this year, the title goes to ...

last year, i got a little sentimental over the gift that RK gave me for christmas. it was an awesome gift.

this year though ... i think the title for best gift has got to go to a. now, i know christmas isn't for another week. but whatever. if anyone else can top months of work to produce something this awesome in every way, i will eat my words.

so a big blog shout out to a, who i imagine spent lo a many eves watching reruns of the office (damn strike) and trying to decide if she/we are over grey's anatomy (verdict is still out) while churning out this bad boy.

on a related note, this is the first year that the two of us have ever gotten both our christmas presents to one another on time - let alone within a month. kudos to us.

just stop it already

alright, mainstream media. enough.

this means you, today show, world news with charles gibson, nbc nightly news with brian williams. all of y'all.

listen.

i am currently enjoying a very successful and fruitful relationship with my friend Denial over the fact that my brother is going to be gone for a whole year on tour in the middle east. his little boys - you see, i am so close with Denial that i'm not even going to tell you how those kids are going to react to him being gone. i'm going to get a piece of cheese out of the refrigerator instead of telling you.

mmm. cheese.

so as i was saying, you seem to be really interested in driving a wedge between Denial and i. why you gotta play Denial like that? you're constantly showing these goddamn videos every single day of fathers coming home from war - all in their fatigues with shaved heads looking like my bro - to surprise their kids at school. or at the mall. or on a school trip to the mall. tonight two little kids unwrapped a big box they thought was from their dad in iraq, but actually was their dad from iraq.

for the love of.... will you please stop with these things? puh-lease.

whatareyoutryingtoprove?! stop it. stop making my heart come up through my throat like a rocket, and the tears come to my eyes so fast i think i might start spraying tears freakishly at a 90-degree angle from my face instead of just allowing them to leisurely drip down my cheek.

if i have to see one more 5-year-old boy shreik daddy while they're leaping into the arms of a father that looks just like a father i know, i'm going to have to break up with Denial. or put a remote through the new tv. and then b would break up with me. see, no one wins here.

stop it.

je suis une fille formidable

i'm allowing myself to be a little sentimental today, a little appreciative of the way things are. wait, that's not accurate. i'm allowing myself to blog about it is all. it's been six weeks now since we've moved into the city, from the burbs of arlington into adams morgan, from a high-rise to an english basement, from corporate landlords to a nice gay couple who are, themselves, just getting settled into this big old house. my commute used to be a walk across the street to the metro; now, i walk for 35 minutes to school and from school. i'm outside about 75 times more now than i was before, walking, soaking in sunlight and endorphines that are significantly affecting my mood, and my affection for this city and her quietly dignified neighborhoods is growing by the day.

in six weeks, i haven't stopped grinning to myself when i cross new hampshire and look at the fountain at dupont circle down the block, or when i pass the building where i used to work as a receptionist for an architecture firm when we first moved here. when i cross k, i usually slow up a little in the middle of the street, stretching my neck for a glimpse of the office that is just waiting for me to wrap up this whole law school thing and pass the bar already. i breathe in fresh air every day, to and from work.

i've tried before to write about how this move has changed me, has changed my feelings about washington. about how i feel like i've been a fraud all these years, telling people back home i live in dc. i didn't live in dc. this side of the potomac and that side feel completely different. and i'm a little ashamed it took us so long to get here.

i can see the washington monument down 18th on those days i do choose to wait for the bus. i don't have congressional representation. and my driver's license finally does not say michigan. this is officially home.

and i was feeling especially sentimental, brimming over even, as i snapped shut my phone walking past the world bank, away from my last fall semester, having called to announce to b that i was triumphant ... that against all odds i'd managed to write a solid antitrust exam ... that i won't be failing any classes, not this semester. i crossed pennsylvania, dusk closing in around me, smiling like a damn fool ... and i knew today would be the day i might be able to explain how much happier i am now living in the city.

i had considered slipping into circle one bistro, a favorite hotel bar near campus, the location of my bachelorette party, a surprise party for b, and many a happy hour through the years. but i thought it would be better to stop in someplace new, reward myself for being thisclose to finishing law school with a new spot. (and obviously i was stopping for a drink. because somehow drinking at a bar alone at 5:15 on a wednesday is way better than coming home and uncorking a bottle of two buck chuck alone at 5:15 on a wednesday. obviously.) so i grabbed a fresh copy of the onion, and snuck into this cute little italian place on connecticut, just north of dupont circle, called tomate or something. it's a little place, the first floor almost all windows, and coming to a point to fit snugly on the little piece of real estate it inhabits. i've always thought it was adorable, but we've never gone. so in i went.

i settled in at the end of the bar, facing the church of scientology across the street, all decked out for christmas. (scientologists celebrate christmas? who knew?) (also, they seem to be okay with smoking. either that, or the constant presence of two or three smokers on the balcony above the entry to the mansion were keeping an eye out, and the smoking was a cover. maybe they're actually watching for a space ship that could at any moment swoop down for them. obviously, my knowledge of scientology is impressive, and not at all marred by pop culture's satire of it.) i ordered a bellini - peach schnopps and champagne, because what else does a self-respecting girl drink at 5:30 on a wednesday night, alone. i cracked open the onion (btw - who knew that i own and love 4 of the top 7 albums of the year as dictated by the onion's AV club. i am so much cooler than i give myself credit for). and i took a nice deep breath. i watched a little soccer, eavesdropped on some conversations, and ordered a little snacky snack. and another glass of champagne. i inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled, allowed myself the small luxury of being one more round of classes from the end of this chapter. i felt a little like i was reading ahead in a book, like i stopped suddenly on page 150, looked around to see if anyone was watching, gingerly flipped to page 250 ... and just read a couple of paragraphs. i liked it.

for the record, i didn't ask the bartender to top off my glass of champagne as i neared the end, nor did i buy the excuse he gave as he grinned and winked that he just needed to finish off the bottle. i did, however, tip accordingly.

as i walked up connecticut, home, with the evening breeze just cool enough to soothe the hint of champagne-induced throbbing in my forehead, i passed an art gallery with photography blanketing the front window. one of the photographs was of a sign that read, je suis une fille formidable. je SUIS une fille formidable!, i thought. je SUIS! je suis une fille formidable qui:

1. really wanted a cigarette;

2. is officially in her last semester of law school; and

3. had to go the dry cleaners drunk on champagne. at 6:30 on a wednesday night.

fantastique.

we all just need to REMAIN CALM - updated

something is not right, here in the metro dc area today. and i don't know what or who is behind it. terrorists? some super virus? alien invasion? satanic possession? i don't have the answers, people. but i know we should all be afraid.

if i hadn't seen the terror with my own eyes, i wouldn't have believed it either, friends. seriously. and what scares me the most is that it's happening in everyday work places - academia, government contractors. where will it strike next? WHERE GOD WHERE?

people are wearing velour sweatsuits to work today.

i know it's scary. i know, i'm scared too. two cases have been confirmed, one with photographic evidence (picture NSFW*), so you know exactly what to look for. what we need here is to be vigilant, people. we need to track this ... this ... whatever in god's name it is that has resulted in people wearing velour sweatsuits to work ... with the utmost precision. i'm about to call DHS. i have grave suspicions that the terrorists have either (1) affected the brains of certain of our coworkers, with an eye to manipulate them into some awful covert act, which they are testing by first seeing if they are willing to commit the horrendous act of wearing a velour sweatsuit to work; or (2) are trying to sabotage the american workforce by grinding productivity to a screeching halt as we all try to figure out why the fuck our coworkers are wearing velour sweatsuits to work.

do you have a coworker wearing a velour sweatsuit to work today? if so, it's your duty as an american to post a comment and email me photographic evidence if possible. we need to stop this thing, people. freedom, liberty, our whole way of life could be at stake here.

god bless.

UPDATE:



upstanding american SJ has done his duty. he has bravely sought and submitted more evidence of the growing epidemic.



you're truly a hero, SJ. i salute you.









*not NSFW in that way, you pervs. if you want to see random nipples, go to the superficial or something.

does karma take payment in the form of contributions to worthy causes .. for credits that could be redeemed later, say, during a federal tax law exam?

i couldn't help but think, as i stood in my socks and well-loved, long-sleeved western t-shirt on the cold cement of my english basement doorstep, trying not to let in the few mosquitoes who've refused to let the cold air collapse their minuscule lungs, that i'm a sucker. but in a good way.

i listened to the well-scripted lines from the chapped lips of this girl years my junior about the importance of supporting pro-environment candidates, and the success her organization has had when they've had the resources to back pro-environmental candidates opposing nasty, blood oil (my phrase, not hers) republicans in the past few congressional campaigns ... and i was a little jealous. i was jealous that this girl from tennessee had the guts to go door-to-door on a cold november night almost a year before the next election and listen to people say no. (or in my case, yes.) i was jealous that this city hadn't yet worn her down, that she obviously still had hope that grassroots action can make a difference. i was jealous that she can fall asleep at night with that list of names and a grand total to support worthy candidates and curl up with the knowledge that she's doing something. it was equal parts admiration for her and belief in her cause that convinced me to give in. it was also the fact that my giant bleeding liberal heart can only hear "grassroots" and "environmental responsibility" so many times without responding with money, and that girl must have hit the magic number.

so, b, if you're reading - i hope you don't mind that i just gave some money to the tree hugger from tennessee. her organization has a website, so i'm pretty sure it's legit.

we all know what time it is

it's the week of thanksgiving. the week i pretend to study. the week my stomach gets a little tighter, thinking of the 14 precious days between now and that first exam. the week i stop preparing for the classes i actually have and start actually trying to learn something about the law.

it's also the week that itunes puts the holiday music front and center again. the week i guffaw at the holiday displays in the stores: i love thanksgiving! why can't we just enjoy this holiday first?! gawd why do we have to jump over the holiday about eating and family and jump right into the one about presents?! jesus christ.

and the week that i bust out the christmas music.

that's right, i said it. the christmas music. i could blame it on the years spent as a freelance musician, when i'd be starting rehearsals for the obligatory holiday pops concerts right about now, complaining about having to play leroy anderson's sleighride again this year. or rather, complaining about rehearsing it - really? we're spending 40 minutes on a piece we could all play in our sleep? swell. ... but i love the wood claps in the percussion and the trumpet neighing just as much as the next gal. and though i could blame jumping into christmas music on that, i'm going to fess up. i just love christmas music. i love it. i'm not putting up the tree, or hanging lights, or doing any of that business before thanksgiving, promise. but when it comes to the feeling i get when it's finally time to put on the charlie brown christmas special soundtrack, or spend all day with ella and frank lightly singing those songs they were probably sick of singing - i can't help it. i'm a sucker for it. it's like it releases some peppermint-laced endorphines in my brain.

and so if you'll excuse me, i have some tax law to learn, and some leroy anderson to enjoy.

ambassador cabbie #697 is a dick

oh ambassador cabbie #697, today was really not the day to cut in front of me at the dc car inspection center. now, most of my friends - and i'm sure all of my acquaintences who would not consider me a friend - would be quick to tell you that there probably is no good day on which to attempt to cut in front of me in any line, let alone the wrapped-around-the-block line at the dc car inspection center. but today of all days was sooo not the day. any day that has included using public transportation to get from NW dc to fairfax, virginia only to stand outside the metro station at vienna for well over an hour calling the dealership where my poor little car is being held hostage waiting for the shuttle that is supposed to arrive every twenty minutes ... you see, that's a bad morning. paying $560 to rescue said car from the dealership for repairs that in the previous half a dozen visits (whilst my car was still protected by my old friend mr. warranty) the dealership couldn't fucking fix and now magically figured out 6,000 miles after my friend mr. warranty and i parted ways ... that's really a bad morning. and then showing up at the dc car inspection center to find the line a block longer than that time i went on a saturday morning like a fool? well, pal. it's a recipe for disaster.

so then when you, mr. ambassador cabbie #697, decided to cut in front of me as i turned from delaware onto eye street after waiting a half hour for that small joy, all bets were off. maybe you thought i'd stop with the honking. maybe you thought i'd just throw my arms around a little. maybe you didn't mind my yelling out the window. and maybe you didn't think i'd be such a bitch when i got out of my car and stormed to the driver's side of your cab. but you see, i'd had a super shitty morning, and i've been screwed by more than one dc cabbie in my days here ... whatever you did that made karma whisper in your ear cut in front of this girl... she won't mind ... well, i can only imagine it was something awful that led you to me this morning, and earned you the brunt of all my shitty-morning-related frustration and dislike-of-dc-cabbies wrath. you must have totally deserved it.

this theory is buttressed by the fact that one of the sassiest old ladies in dc, bless her heart, happened to be crossing the street while this unfolded. i had just started dialing the number for ambassador cabs (as i so politely promised you i would) and was headed back to my car, muttering under my breath, when she unleashed it on you too. and though my caustic wit and threatening to call your bosses may not have fazed you, clearly this 70-year-old's threat to march straight to the inspection center and tell them herself what you'd just done and demand they write you a ticket - somehow that did the trick.

oh and by the way, i am happy now. thanks for asking.

an open thank you note to karma

good day, karma.

as you probably know, after doing what i deemed to be the right (ok, and satisfying, sure) thing and totally busting the damn fool i work with, i was really torn between commupins-related glee and pragmatic realization that i may have just made the next six months even longer and more miserable ... this dread was compounded when, as i left ej on the bus and walked the block to the new digs, i realized that i only moved one week ago. has it really only been a week? dude, karma, i gotta tell you. this has been a long ass week. as you may recall, i spent one day this week - a day that seemed like three - driving my engine-light-constantly-on foreign car to multiple mechanics and the dc inspection center. oh yeah, and the headlights being crooked? seriously, karma. mad props for making sure that the dc inspection dudes didn't notice that i used huge wads of duct tape to adjust their aim. that was awesome. but even still? longest. week. ever. and so, the commupins-related glee was falling away in the cold november rain...

but thanks so much, karma, for that nondescript package waiting under the steps of my landlords' 5000 square foot urban mansion. sure, the note attached was from my future and not-borderline-sociopathic coworkers, but i know it was really from you. i mean, sure they really do miss me and i'm sure really can't wait for me to start (dude, someone has got to get on that minnesota contract research question that needs to be answered ten ways from tuesday!) and i'm sure they do really hope that the new place is treating me well. also i'm sure they hope that you, karma, are treating me well too.

and you are.

because a short while later as i stirred the delicious pot of chili that i have been looking forward to all day and probably bored the shit out of my coworker today talking about every 30 minutes (damn do i love chili and DAMN is it the perfect day for chili), you called. you totally CALLED me, karma! and that was sweet. ok, sure, you called in the form of my old landlady with the good news that the old place rented and somehow the person who rented it wants to move a week from tomorrow, which is the day after our lease ends, but that if i clean that dump out tomorrow and turn in my keys i can TOTALLY get a refund for six days worth of rent - which is fucking sweet. karma, thanks for showing some random dude my dirty ass empty apartment, and whispering into his nomadic ear that this place, though in serious need of some vacuuming and no small amount of ajax, is just the place to call home. that was super nice of you!

to sum, karma, you obviously care deeply for me. i appreciate this affection, this affection that is so clearly evidenced by this awesome outpouring of karmic goodwill in less than 90 minutes on this cold fall evening. thanks a ton!

take care, karma. you're tops!

best,
s

p.s. karma, don't you think living in adams morgan is the effing bomb? because i totally do.

metro monday: the end of an era edition

i had faith, going into this morning's commute, that the orange line would give me something/one spectacular this morning, an appropriate send-off on the last metro monday in her overcrowded cars. i wasn't sure if i'd be graced with an outrageously dressed commuter (maybe the gentleman i saw at clyde's in chinatown this weekend lost a bet and had to show up to work wearing the cape and cod piece?) or if i'd get a repeat of last week's off-loading and horrendously crowded platform.

but really, nothing spectacular happened at all. a few people sitting on the left, yada yada. b and i got to sit next to each other, which is pretty remarkable. there wasn't even a comb-over. i saw no white purses. there was no one pushing over a pregnant lady in a rush to score a seat. i did see a guy wearing a red sox cap with his suit, but much like this year's world series, it was incredibly anti-climatic.

i've got nothing people. nothing but a little sadness that i'm leaving an apartment and a neighborhood i love ... and a little hope that my new above-ground commute will provide fresh material.

so this is it, orange line. it's been real.

oh for fuck's sake, cnn.com

i am consistently disappointed in you, cnn, much like a midwestern mother trying to pretend her children aren't adults and demanding that the holiday be Just The Way They've Always Been. but this, truly, has taken things in a whole new direction.

Martial arts TV star picks presidential candidate

chuck norris? CHUCK NORRIS?

how is chuck norris' endorsement in the presidential race even on the list of possible news stories that could be covered on your well-read website? how, how, how? has one of The Onion's writers snuck onto your staff? have you been hacked by the same person who got into ann coulter's website last week, or that chick from The Hills' myspace page? and does anyone believe she isn't behind that sex tape scandal? i really need to think that there is some logical explanation for the reporting of this completely irrelevant presidential endorsement. because i've always been under the impression that chuck norris' relevance in national politics was one of the signs of impending apocalypse. obviously, my biblical knowledge is impressive.

on the bright side, if this means that the political opinions of people who truly don't matter are going to be real news, i'm for hillary. please leave me a comment for a full interview and headshot. i'll be waiting.