Thursday, November 30, 2006
Swan Attack - video powered by Metacafe
*If you define pretty good as cowering in a corner and crying while a bird beats me senseless and my parents laugh at me, then I did, indeed, do pretty good in that fight.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Back to the story: when we entered the place, it felt like a David Lynch movie. No, really. The restaurant was on a desolated road in the middle of nowhere. It might easily have been in the mountainous region between Afghanistan and Somewhereistan as it was in Maryland. But the restaurant was packed with people. Strange Lynchian people. There was a bar/table in the middle of the room that looked to high up for a normal sized person to sit comfortably. So, of course, there were two midgets seated there uncomfortably. One of them looked suspiciously like the midget from the Twin Peaks Fire Walk movie. I was going to ask him how the movie ends, partly because I don’t remember ever having stayed awake through an entire David Lynch movie and partly because it would make for good blog fodder, but my date reminded me that when dwarves get angry, sometimes they bite, and they probably haven’t had their shots. We’ll talk when I’m wearing shin guards, my little friends!
As if the scene wasn’t odd enough, what transformed it from mildly bizarre (like Twin Peaks) to completely baffling (like Mulholland Drive) was that a tall, freakishly skinny man entered and sat at the table beside me. I was a foot away from skeletor. I had no idea who the scarecrow was, but my date did. It was none other than Michael Chertoff.
To prove that no one like British food, I give you exhibit A: the menu
Me: Who the hell is Michael Chertoff?
Date: He’s the head of Homeland Security.
Me: Homeland Security? I saw them open for Modest Mouse. Fcuk
them, they suck!
Date: No, “Homeland Security” as in the agency that makes little old ladies take their orthopedic shoes off in the airport so they check them for bombs.
Me: That’s not him…where’s his Secret Service?
Date: He doesn’t get secret service, only the President gets that.
Me: Huh? That’s just crazy. What if a terrorist was in here, he would be completely vulnerable.
Date: A terrorist wouldn’t be here. A terrorist would be somewhere like Zaytinya eating middle eastern food.
Me: Why couldn’t they be here? Are you saying terrorists don’t like British food?
Date: No one likes british food.
Me: Hmmmm….Good point.
Anyway, if you think I’m kidding about how skinny he is. Here is a picture of him that I found on the internet.
Bangers and Mash? Ugh. In case you didn’t know, bangers are like sausages….but more phallic and with less flavor.
Boiled Ham & Cabbage? Does anyone eat this, except on a dare? A dare involving lot’s of money, an immunity challenge or the Fear Factor grand prize?
Anyway, if you’ll note the menu, you’ll see that salad is NOT on the menu. This becomes important in the story later. See how subtle that foreshadowing was? Although I have no formal writing training, I can foreshadow with the best of them. So suck it, Shakespeare!
So my date starts thinking I’m odd(er) because I’m taking a little too keen an interest in his food choices. It feels vaguely like I’m paparazzi trying to sneak a peek at the Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes wedding. (As a non-sequitor, I’d just like to note for the record, that while Tom makes more money than me, I’m a few inches taller than him, not crazy, and probably have larger genitalia…IN YOUR FACE, CRUISE!!!).
Date: Why do you care about what he’s ordering.
Me: That man is in charge of protecting us from the terrorists, and I just don’t feel safe knowing that he’s that under-nourished. Look at him…he’s a manorexic.
From that point on, she fed me updates about his eating habits.
Date: Okay, he sent back the sandwich and fries.
Me: I knew it! He only pretends to eat. No one can be that thin and eat actual food. He obviously has never seen any of those After School Specials with Tracy Gold, ‘cuz he would know that it’s all unhealthy and sh1t.
Date: Oh wait, they’re bringing the sandwich back, but with salad on the side instead of fries.
Me: WHAT? Salad? The only thing standing between us and sexually repressed and politically impotent suicide bombers us is a damn salad-eater? I’m gonna’ say something…he needs a better source of protein than that.
Date: Don’t you dare!
Me: Wait a minute, it just occurred to me that salad isn’t even on the menu. So this guy is using his government influence to get special treatment at this restaurant. What a sickening abuse of power. This is worse than when Dick Cheney uses Air Force One to transport Tranny Prostitutes for the republican convention. Or when he shoots lobbyists in the face.
Date: It’s not an abuse of power. They would probably give you salad too, if you asked for it.
Me: Why would I ask for t a salad! Are you calling me a gay?
After a while, we finished our Irish Burgers, checked each other for signs of Mad Cow Disease and proceeded with our date. To be quite honest with you, I feel less safe when I think about flying to visit relatives for the holidays when I know that are borders are being secured by someone who is ingesting way too much ruffage and not nearly enough proteins or carbs. But what can you do? I can’t hold him down and make him eat the boiled ham and cabbage. First of all, it’s probably a crime, and secondly that sounds like something that you’d use to interrogate prisoners at a secret CIA prison when the waterboarding and choke holds lose their intimidation effect. I think British Cuisine is the secret to the United Kingdom’s historical military prowess. If you’re reared on a diet of bangers and boiled ham, then when you’re stuck in a foxhole and have to eat a rat to survive, it’s probably not that big of an adjustment. In fact, my theory (which I just made up) is that a nation’s military prowess is inversely proportional to it’s culinary skillz. (US, UK, Germany & Soviet Union = bad food and powerful military; Italy, France, China, Mexico = Good food and pathetic military forces). That’s why I think we’ll remain a superpower until we encounter a country with a worse culinary tradition than the US. Who knows? Maybe China or India will popularize deep-fried cow dung or something equally disgusting to overcome the ubiquitous buffalo wings and fries that we abuse our bodies with. But in the meantime, I don’t know how to end this post, so I’ll just mention that I have to pee really badly right now. Bye.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
This SUV plowed into a school that is within striking distance of the fortress. Luckily, those kids were probably cutting class, doing drugs, or engaging in unprotected pre-marital sex and were therefore no where near the school when the SUV attack happened. There’s probably a lesson to be learned from this, but I don’t know what it is, and, frankly, I don’t care. I just know that if someone crashes into the impenetrable ninja fortress with their SUV, they better be really, really high. Because when I get a hold of them, they are going hope that they are on some serious pain killers so that their deaths will be relatively merciful.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Now I know why greed is one of the seven deadly sins. Greed is probably the worst of the seven deadly sins--except for gluttony, because it makes you a big fatass. No, I take that back, because with gluttony, you get to enjoy some delicious deep friend food. Maybe some flan, or a peanut butter and banana sandwich. With lust, you get to make sexy time, which is fun. With rage, you get to kill annoying pedestrians with your NLAAV. But what do you get with envy? Nothing besides your name mentioned in a NY Times article showing the world what a greedy little twerp you are who’s not satisfied with anything they have. Yes, I’m talking about you Mr. Reid Hoffman. Or should I call you Greed Hoffman? You sold your company for over a billion dollars, (of which you probably got tens of millions) but are upset that the YouTube guys got more than you? You want us to feel sorry for you because your millions only entitle you to live an “upper middle class” life style? Boo effing hoo.
So what? You didn’t get all the marbles. Do you think if I was dating Rachel McHottie, that I would get upset because she wasn’t Judy Greer? No! You know why? Because unlike you, Greed Hoffman, I know what’s important in life. And it has nothing to do with you and your little techie friends comparing Porsche Boxters and trying to out-man each other to make up for your small man-tools. What life is about is the simple pleasures. Like nailing Rachel McHottie and then telling your friends about it (and having them believe you). Life’s about flan and peanut butter and banana sammiches. It’s about the smell of dew on a Sunday morning and pulling back the covers to see a sleeping Judy Greer in your bed. Uhhh, I meant, Rachel McHottie. Like I said, I’m not greedy or anything.
Anyway…I may be getting a new laptop soon, and if I do, I’ll probably blog more regularly. But in the meantime, have a happy thanksgiving everyone (especially Judy Greer and Rachel McHottie, and except for Greed Hoffman).
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
When I read that article about someone destroying the entire front of a DC rowhouse using nothing more than an SUV and copious amounts of Booze, I figured I should increase the defensive fortifications on my house by parking the NLAAV in front immediately. I live near a hipster bar and a lot of the Yuppies in my neighborhood drive SUVs. I can just imagine some angry yuppie, going to that bar, getting drunk, then leaving in a rage because he coudln't find someone to engage in deviant sex with him, then getting behind the wheel of the SUV and mounting an assault on the ninja fortress.
I think Ideally I should dig a moat around the fortress and fill it with alligators, but I don't think I could get the required permits for that. Plus I'm lazy. So I'll just park the NLAAV in front and put a sign on the windshield that says "Unlike this House, My Sudanese Neighbor's House Is Remarkably Vulnerable to SUV Attacks."
Friday, November 03, 2006
Why did my bank just send me a Mortgage Life Insurance Application? My thoughts:
- A veiled threat on my life? If so, they should know I studied Northern Shaolin Kung Fu for a year and a half from this guy when I was 15, so don’t even try it!
- why would I possibly care if my mortgage gets paid off or not when I die? If the bank is so worried about their money, let them buy it.
- in the application, they stuck me in an age bracket that starts at my age and ends at an age that I consider old…does that make me old? Because I'm not...no, really...what? What's so funny?
- the first age bracket is “Under 25”. What person under 25 owns a whole house? When I was 25 I was still trying to figure out how to use the microwave (I’ll be done figuring it out soon).
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
In case some of you are looking for something ninja-esque to do this weekend, I figured I would give you a quick heads up. If you'll remember waaaaaay back in one of the first Ninja News segments (that I am too lazy to look up right now) I told you about an independent film maker that made a film about dating, and one fo the stories in it was a ninja that goes on a blind date. Well, it's showing this weekend in the DC area and I think if you have some ninja in your heart (or want to avoid me stabbing you you in the heart with a katana) then you should check it out.
!The Final Screening of 2006!
SAT NOVEMBER 4 :: 8 PM :: $6
a benefit screening for We Are Family, a DC non-profit that assists the elderly
WAREHOUSE Screening Room
1017-21 7th St., NW
Washington, DC 20001