Friday, June 27, 2008

Wedding Crasher

I inadvertently crashed a wedding last weekend. I was going to a friend's wedding at a swanky place in Georgetown on 28th and Q st. I didn't know there were two swanky places there (one on Q st and the other around the corner on 28th street). So, of course, the cab driver drops me off at the wrong one.

The people at the first wedding seemed a little too douchebaggy to be friends with my friend, but I just assumed that they were friends of friends. I was on my second drink and getting hit on by a cute bridesmaid who was on her sixth (and wanted to get married, like, YESTERDAY, because all her friends are married and, she's been in 5 weddings this year, and why can't she find a cute guy who wants to settle down...) when she asks this:

Girl: so are you a friend of the bride or groom?

Me: I'm a friend of the bride. I've known her almost 10 years. You?

Girl: I'm friends with John.

Me: Who?

Girl: John...the groom.

Now, I knew something was up. Either my friend had met someone last week and fell madly in love and decided that since the wedding was paid for, let's get married, OR...I might be in the wrong place. I said I had to go to the bathroom and asked one of the staff what the name of this place was.

Me: So it's not the Evermay?

Waitress: No, that's around the corner.

Me: I feel like an idiot.

Waitress: Don't worry about it, it happens all the time.

Me: Really?

Waitress: No...not really, I was just trying to make you feel better.

So I sneak out of the first wedding and into the second wedding. But I am spotted and I have to tell the story. BUSTED! Anyway, I won't go into too many details about the wedding, but, here are some highlights.

  1. at one point during dinner someone giving a toast for the bride says something about her home state's (Kentucky) sports. Then people from the grooms side start singing the Clemson University fight song. Loudly. during dinner. Not making this up.
  2. There were apparently weeks of "discussions" about the wedding cake, so they had two cakes. One traditional, and one was, I sh1t you not, a fondant cake that was a perfect replica of the Clemson mascot (a tiger) straddling a giant boulder.
  3. I was stuck at a table with two vegetarians, one of whom (who was not gay) offered me his meat in exchange for my vegetables. I said "I don't want your meat, but thanks anyway".
  4. Someone's date gave me her phone number when her date went to the bathroom. The bride saw this and said something to me about it.

My friend, being very southern, tried to make the most of the mascot cake and thought of something romantic to say about a cake with a tiger and a rock. Although there is not much, romantically speaking, that you can say about a tiger and a rock, she pulled it off, She said:

"This boulder was donated by one of the Clemson alums and the players all rub the rock for luck right before a big game. His only stipulation on the gift was that 'if they aren't willing to give 110%, then tell em to keep their hands off my rock', which is how you should go into a marriage...willing to give it 110% or not at all." Awwwww...If I had ovaries, I would've probably cried at that.

On the way home, I got a stuck with a nigerian cabby who told me that weddings are a good place to pick up women, then proceeded to bombard me with pick up advice and suggest further materials for me to order. (not making this up) He told me he was a pickup artist, and recited a list of his idols and told me I had to order this stuff and that he had a lot of trouble getting dates before he found this material (which may have something to do with the fact he drives a cab and gives random strangers advice on getting laid, but i digress).

He said that, believe it or not, driving a cab is a great way to meet women because in a club they can walk away, but in a cab they have to talk to you. By that logic, I guess other great places to meet women are elevators, toilet stalls and women's prisons.

So I made it home, walked my new foster dog (who HATES other dogs) and debated whether to write about this. Wedding Crashers? Tiger Cakes? Nigerian Cab Romeos? Vegetarians offerring me their meat? Who's gonna belive this?

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Wow, Gasoline Really IS Expensive

On Friday I realized how expensive gas has really become. After the gym, my friend Uncle Rico and I were having beers at my place before we went out. When we went to our vehicles afterwards, Uncle Rico's truck smelled like a gas station. He has a pickup truck that's pretty high off the ground. When we looked underneath it, we saw that someone had cut his fuel line and stolen his gas!

Now this sucks on many levels. If they had siphoned the gas from his tank by unscrewing his gas cap, then he would be out $50 for the gas, but it wouldn't be a big deal. Since they cut his fuel line, he was out of gas and the truck wasn't going anywhere until he got a mechanic to come out to my neighborhood to fix it. And mechanics don't like going to work on a Saturday (join the club!), especially if they have to go to a neighborhood where people steal gas.

I like my neighborhood (kinda), but no one steals gas in Bethesda. So you can make fun of the burbs all you want, but at least you don't have to worry about your gas being stolen, and you don't have to buy your chinese takeout from behind bulletproof glass.

Thursday, June 19, 2008


I'm not 22 anymore. It used to be that I could go out drinking till 4 in the morning and be walking around like nothing happened by 9 am. But your 30s are different from your 20s, and not necessarilly in a good way.

My friend Dirty Dave, who I've discussed here and here, is in town for a couple of days. We went out drinking (bad idea number one), and did more drinking (still a bad idea) and even more drinking (now a really bad idea) ended up in a strip club where I learned that someone I know in real life works as a waitress. Don't worry, sweetie, your secret is safe with me (and the imaginary people on the internet). At some point during the night, Dave tries to convince us to go the massage parlor/whore house up the street.

Me: Dude, you haven't lived here for four years, what makes you think it's still in business.

Dave: [so drunk he's slurring his words] because that place was FCUKIN AWESOME, man and when a whorehouse is that fcuking awesome, it stays around forever! My grandkids will be fcuking hookers there one day.

Me: Well, I hope they get new ones, because those whores will be pretty old by the time your grandkids visit that place.

I decide to take a pass on the whorehouse because I don't even like using public toilets so using a public va-jay-jay doesn't really appeal to me. I stay at the strip club with the girl I know, Papa Doc and Old Skool while Dirty Dave and the Weasel go to the whorehouse. After about half an hour Dave comes back and he's not all that happy.

Dave: Man, that place is going down hill. Those hookers were in the mid 40s and a little on the heavy side.

Me: So what did you do?

Dave: Is that a trick question? I fcuked her...

There is more to this story, and while it's really funny, I'll keep it to myself since this is a PG-13 rated site. He's still in town for another day and he challenged me to another eating contest at Fogo de Chau, but I don't really think I'm up for it. I'm so hungover I can barely hold down coffee, I don't think I'm ready for unlimited grilled meats.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

updates and such

Well, I'm planning on taking it easy this weekend. Maybe some tidying up around the fortress, but no actual work. I'm trying to get a couple of foundation guys to come in and take a look at my basement brick "issue" next weekend, so thinking about my house falling down and burying me alive while I curse the heavens, or me spending lots of money to keep it from doing so hasn't inspired me to do much of anything else.

In other news, now that gas has been over $4 a gallon for a while, I have been noticing a few things around this city. People are, understandably, driving less so I'm getting much better parking spots than I was before. I've been getting good spots in places like Dupont and Adams Morgan where, if I had told you I got a good spot there when gas was $2 a gallon, you would call me a liar. Also, when I go out, I see far less "bridge and tunnel" douchebags at the bars I'm frequenting in DC. (I'm sure if you go out to a bar in Arlington now, it looks like you died and went to douchebag heaven, but that's a different post for another day). On the bad side, gas is expensive so I shell out $40 and it doesn't even fill up my tank. Sacrilige!!!

Also, on my commute to work, the trains have been way more crowded than usual. They usually get a little more crowded by tourists this time of year, but I doubt these people that are annoying me are tourists. They look like people who used to drive to work and are upset that they have to ride in tin cans underground with the rest of us peasants. Well, you know what, Lord McPrissypants, you suck. You don't know where to stand on the escalator, you're not smart enough to figure out that standing in the doorway when people are trying to get in (or out) of the train is something that only idiots and inconsiderate people do.

And lastly, I got down as far as 164.4 pounds today. I don't know if I'll go to the tournament tomorrow because although I can lose 5 lbs right before weigh ins if I really wanted to, I don't think I can recover and be strong enough to compete a couple of hours later. Also, I reinjured my elbow a leeetle bit today at the gym so even at full strength it might not be a good idea to push it. I'll see how I feel about it tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


I had a couple of contractors in to take a look at my basement. I've gotten such aggravation out of the top two floors, that I really don't want to mess with the basement so I was toying with the idea of hiring someone to do the whole basement. I have someone in mind for that, but the guy doesn't do foundations and he pointed out something that he thought I should get checked out before he started. And no, he didn't point out a pre-cancerous mole or anything, although what he did point out was almost as frightening.

By the stairs there are several bricks with no mortar. Apparently, sometime in the past 100 years, water got in and washed out the mortar. In ye olde days, mortar didn't have portland cement like it does nowadays. I ye olde days, they made the stuff between the bricks with one part lime and 3 parts sand, the same way that they've been making it since Roman times.

So the first guy looks at it, takes some measurments and gives me a quote of $650 to repoint the brick. Sounds good. I can handle that. The only reason I didn't say yes was that I wasn't sure that he knew what he was doing. He was going to repoint it with cement, but with old bricks you need to do it with the old timey mortar otherwise the new cement is harder than the brick and it will crack the bricks when the bricks expand and contract when the seasons change. Even I know that, and I suck.

The second guy comes and won't give me an estimate because he says that I need a structural engineer to look at it first and do a study. I know estimates are free, and I like free, but I had the feeling that studies aren't free. Studies sound expensive. He said he'd have his office call me to set up an appointment with an engineer, but that doing the study and running tests (tests? that sounds even more expensive) would be $500. And that's before they even do any work. Ouch. Anyway, the guy never called. How can you scare me like that and then not call me? If anybody knows a good structural engineer or whatever (and by whatever, I mean a foundation guy) leave me a comment in the comment box.

I'll try to take some pictures of it, but it's too depressing to look at now.

In other news, my quest to lose 15 lbs in 15 days hit a road block when I plateaued like I did last time. I was stuck at 168-169 lbs, but today I worked out in the morning and ran 3 miles at noon and managed to get down to 166.7 pounds (but then I had lunch). For the next few days I'm going to keep working out twice a day and eating nothing but things that are green (green beans, raw broccoli, celery) and taste disgusting or fruits (cherries, blueberries and strawberries that I use to reward myself after I work out) and water...and coffee. If I can get down to 159 by sunday morning, I'll go compete, if not I don't want to go. It would suck to be at the bottom of the 160-180 lb weight class and humiliate myself. If I wanted to publicly humiliate myself, I don't have to go all the way to Richmond to do it. I can just walk around DC in a "McCain for President" t-shirt and save myself $100.

In other news...on Saturday, the National Geographic in Downtown DC is having some kind of film festival and is showing some of my favorite Kung Fu Films from my childhood. I don't know if I can make it, but it's not big deal since I already own two of the films, 36th Chamber of Shaolin and Executioners from Shaolin on DVD. (not kidding). I'm hoping that before I die I can find The Five Deadly Venoms on DVD so that I can have all 3 movies buried with me. (still not kidding). Anyway, those of you in the area might want to check it out.

Also, not kidding about the basement. Leave comments in the box if you know somebody.

Friday, June 06, 2008

The Time I weighed my Poop

I'm beginning to have sympathy for what you women go through. I always hear women complain about trying to lose weight and I never gave it a second thought because after being forced to watch a few Sex and the City episodes I realized that women can complain about anything. ("these shoes are ugly; these shoes look nice, but they are uncomfortable; I don't have enough dates; I have too many dates; the sex is bad; the sex is good...but it's too good; my apartment is too small; I have too many shoes; all my friends are getting married; Samantha has syphillis...wah wah wah).

But I'm thinking about going to another jiu jitsu tournament next saturday near Richmond, so I wanted to get down to 159 lbs and I realized why women complain about losing weight. It's HARD. You're hungry all the time and the only food you can eat is stuff that tastes like crap. I was at 175 pounds last week, but a lot of it wasn't muscle. That would put me in the 160-179 lb class, but I am sure that there will again be a lot of bigger guys there (200 lbs) that cut weight to get down to 179 and I don't feel like getting my arm almost broken again. I need to get down to a weight where I'm less than 10% body fat, and for me that's 160 lbs. It took me almost two months for my elbow to heal since last time so I want to fight at the right weight this time: 159 lbs. I cut out sodas (bye bye cherry cokes) and started eating salads (how gay is that?) and I am now 168 and miserable. I've been obsessing about calories and weight and working out like a fiend to get rid of the excess baggage. I was talking with my friend Uncle Rico (former Division I wrestler) about cutting weight:

Uncle Rico: Train yourself to take dumps in the morning.* You might be able
to drop a pound or a pound and a half before weigh ins if you dookie in the
mornings instead of the afternoon.

Me: Is it that much? How do I find out how much my dumps weigh?

Uncle Rico: Take a dump in a shoe box and bring it in. My buddy works in a lab and he can weigh it for you.

Me: [stunned silence]

Uncle Rico: Yeah, I've done it before. Just make sure you cover it with talcum
powder, otherwise it's disgusting.

Me: I don't care if you cover it with pixie dust, a turd in a box is still nasty, I'll try something else.

Pooping in the morning sounds like a good idea though, I must say. So was curious to know how much my dumps weigh because I want to weigh 159 exactly at the tournament (not 157 or 155) so I wanted to find out how much I could reliably cut by going to the bathroom, but pooping in a box is kinda sick and gross. So did the next best thing. I used the bathroom scale and I weighed myself before and after I pooped. I did this several times to ensure consistency. And I deduced my poops weigh between 1.1 and 1.4 lbs. Now I just have to train myself to go in the morning.

*Other weight cutting tips: drink lots of fluids and eat nothing but rice cakes for the week before the match. The last day don't eat anything and pee as much as possible.

Monday, June 02, 2008


Okay, the results of last post's poll are in. Usually I don't give any weight to polls posted on my site because the results don't come out the way I wanted them too (for the record, my sweater was NOT gay, and neither is any dog, no matter the size). But surpisingly, by a narrow margin, the voters on my site (unlike the voters in the last two presidential elections) showed some sense and decided that the weird guy with the rainbow hair is, in fact, George Clinton.

But speaking of gay...if you are fan of "Fight Club" and other Chuck Palahniuk's books, then you can go to his book signing on June 3. I haven't been able to make it through a sitting of Fight Club without falling asleep (I tried twice). The only reason I can find that some guys think this movie is great is that they are closet homosexuals who hide their insecurities by fawning over this homo-erotic ritualized violence and faux philosophy about why it's okay to be a underachiever with no direction. Keep lifting weights, taking steroids and walking around in a t-shirt that's a couple of sizes too small, but don't think you're fooling anyone.

Moving on...if anyone reading this lives in Virginia, there's a good art show in Staunton that you might want to check out at Kronos Gallery. It's by avant garde, anti war artist Joroko. I have a couple of his pieces displayed in the ninja fortress. week is the last week for Artomatic, so be sure to check that out before it closes. Be sure to catch the exhibits by Matt Sesow and Patrick Wilson there.

And lastly, I don't want to pat myself on the back too much, but I was particularly proud of not losing my temper on Friday. There's a hipster bar a few blocks from the ninja fortress that I've only been to about 5 times in the 3 years I've lived there. The reason I avoid it is that I hate hipsters way more than I love cheap microbrewed beers and emo music. Anyway, I was on a date and at the end of it I stopped in to get a drink at the place at one of the outdoor tables. (I hate going inside because it's crowded and hipsters hate soap like Bush hates the constitution) There was a table outside but only one chair and the girl offerred to grab another one from one of the other tables, but I said I would do it (because I'm a gentleman).

There is a long table (several tables pushed together by hipsters to form a douchebag black hole) and a couple of empty seats. I asked if they were taken and they said that, no one was sitting in them, but that they were saving them for their friends who were coming later. Now, I think I mentioned before that I'm pretty good at keeping my cool, except when someone bigger than me (which is, statistically, over 50% of the population) tries to physically intimidate me. Then, as the douchebags say, it's on like donkey kong and it usually get's ugly quicker than a game of strip poker with Oprah Winfrey and Rosie O'donnell. So it's 4 hipsters and their girlfriends and me discussing the chair:

Me: well, you can't just save a seat like that at a bar, if---

hipster one: who say's we can't? Is there a bar rulebook or something?

hipster two: we took those chairs, so we can reserve them for whoever we want.

Me: [starting to get upset] really?

hipster one: yeah, really!

[take a deeeeeep breath]

Me: yeah? Well guess what? this argument is over, I'm taking the chair

[takes chair]

hipsters 1,2,3 and 4 [unintelligible yelling and threats about ass-kicking].

I think that was the right thing to do. Keeping your cool is always the best choice. He was trying to push my buttons and intimidate me into backing down so that he could look like a real man in front of his girl, but I didn't play his game and I also didn't let it get physical. I didn't want a fight, I wanted a chair...and I got what I wanted.