Gentrification and Booze

Well gentrification has its upsides, no matter what they say. I was on a part of Georgia Avenue today which isn't exactly an area where the yuppies go for their fair trade organic soy chai decaf lattes at Starbucks.

I was there to attend a brainwashing, errr, I mean "orientation" for people who want to be foster owners for dogs until they are adopted. I have been thinking of getting a dog, and I figured this would be a good way to see if I am ready for that kind of commitment. Plus, having a dog for a few weeks, then getting a different dog, then another one, without having to commit to one is great in principle. It's like being single, young, rich, and having lots of money. New bitches every week and no commitment!

On the way back I needed to get a present for a birthday partay that I was going to. A friend suggested beaujolais nouveau, which is a special holiday wine that they make, that you should drink before the end of the year, because within 6 months it tastes like a mixture of balsamic vinegar, dirt and that stuff between your toes when you jog.

After the brainwashing, I went to visit the shelter dogs, one of whom's life I might spare in the near future, and then went to the liqour store. Luckily, I was on one of the parts of Georgia Avenue that have 3 liqour stores on every block (okay, one was a homeless guy offering to sell me a drink from his 40 ounce bottle of malt liqour, but you get the point). There were 2 liquors across the street from each other...seriously. Are people really thirsty on Georgia Avenue?

At the first place I went, the guy behind the counter told me that he wasn't sure if they had "Booo-jo-lay" but he said to check in the room in the back with the sign that said "wine library" (I wish I was making this up but I'm not). I saw a guy who looked like an extra on the Sopranos, who I assumed was the Wine Librarian (is that the proper term?). He mispronounced "beaujolais" and then told me that he ordered it, but it wasn't in yet. Then he offered to kill Don Corleone and end the feud between the five families of the Cosa Nostra if I would agree to back his bid to be Capo di Tutti Capi--the boss of all bosses (sort of like the Pope of the Mafia). Okay, that didn't really happen, but with his accent, it very well could have.

At the second place, they tried to sell me some of LAST year's beaujolais. Since the stuff goes bad after a few months, that's not a good idea. The price was cheap, but after a year it probably tastes worse than battery acid or cajun cooking so I said no thanks. He suggested some champagne, which sounded like a good idea.

HIN: I want one that will fool them into thinking I have class

Guy: How about some Cristal?

HIN: No, I'm not trying to convince them I'm a rapper.

Guy: This Dom Perignon is $200, it very classy!

HIN: No ones gonna believe I'm that classy.

Guy: How classy do you want to be?

HIN: I'd like a hundred bucks worth of class...plus tax. It's a special occasion.

I realized I probably shouldn't be getting advice on class from a guy with gang tattoos on his neck, so I called a friend (with class) and mispronounced the names of the champagnes they had until she said "yes, that's a good one." Then I was off to a birthday partay at the Decatur House. It was black tie, and I had my own Tuxedo, because I'm all classy and shit.

The Decatur House is one of the oldest houses in DC and it's historically preserved. I had no idea that in colonial times they had things like urinals and fluorescent lighting, but I'm not a history buff.