WiFi

WiFi can be both a blessing and a curse. For example, the hotel I'm staying now. For some reason my room's a dead zone, where I only get one bar of signal. And sometimes that goes down to zero, for example right when I'm saving an e-mail. And sometimes I have to walk around the room to find a signal.

Oddly enough, the rest of the hotel seems OK -- I've walked down the corridor in both directions and the signal is only bad right at my room. I'd move, but I'm not staying here long.

Improper sandwich-eating

I had to narc on a woman who was eating her sandwich on Prego's deli (17th and Corcoran) outside patio today. Why? From the bag she had, it was clear she'd bought it from the next-door Subway, rather than from Prego's. It was an easy thing to do, because her crimes were manifold: eating bad fast food, favoring a chain over a local business, and of course making free use of a patio that was only for Prego's customers. Plus I wanted her table, because it was in the shade. :) The owner was annoyed when I pointed the violator out, complaining to me that she pays $3,000 a year in tax for the outside table and then Subway customers sit there, but she opted against confrontation and let the Subway-eater finish her sandwich.

Dirty

Dirty
Originally uploaded by alex.DC.

Netflix seemed perfect when it first came along, but I guess this is an inevitable part of the aging process. It's frustrating when a disc ends up unplayable no matter how much you try to polish it back to perfection -- especially when you're watching something as riveting as Traffik when it happens.

Twenty-Three Million to 111,000

I never realized how important a driver’s license is until I lost it recently. Last night I went up to Best Buy to pick up something I’d ordered online, and they wouldn’t let me take because I didn’t have my license, it even though I had the e-mail confirmation and the credit card I placed the order with – meaning the only way it wasn’t me is if someone had mugged me and stolen both my wallet and my e-mail letter.

Later that night I went to the Black Cat to meet my friend Al (for what we call an “Al Night.”) As with the trip to Best Buy, I’d already forgotten I didn’t have it. Before I could object, the doorman put two huge black Xs with magic marker on my hands – the mark that indicates you’re too young to drink, and usually is associated with pimply-faced teenagers. Very undignified. I went home, scrubbed my hands with a special soap made of citrus-based solvent and crushed pumice until the X’s came off, grabbed my passport, and returned to the Black Cat.

The annoyingness of these events was mitigated somewhat by the bands we saw there, J.B. Beverley And The Wayward Drifters, and Junkrod Joe And The Cadillac Hearse. Junkrod Joe was fast, loud cow-punk, and JB Beverly was more rockabilly (and the better of the two bands). Plus there were lots of women there eager to dance, even with a terrible partner like me (thanks for the lesson Anna!). Between the bands, Al and I played pinball, which was fun even if Al humiliated me with a final score of 23 million to my pathetic 111,000. The evening was topped off with slices of pizza at Manny and Olga’s, which only tastes good late at night after a few drinks, and then Al caught the S2 uptown to Mount Pleasant as I caught another S2 south.

The Colour of a Dog Running Away

I just finished The Colour of a Dog Running Away, a book by Welsh author Richard Gwyn. It's a thriller with an alcohol-soaked and lovelorn protagonist, written in a style reminiscent of Umberto Eco (complete with various links to Medeival societies, which may draw unfortunate comparisons to Dan Brown). The book takes you into the seamy underworld of Barcelona, a world which in this book is filled with exotic buildings designed by Antonin Gaudi, fire-eaters, "roof people," and a crazy rabbit-raising neighbor, to mention just a few things. Like most of my literature these days, I picked it up at an airport (Heathrow); the book is well worth a read if you can find it.

Funny quote

Thanks to the Post's Reliable Source for bringing to my attention this great quote from Paris Hilton in the Times of London:

"There's nobody in the world like me. I think every decade has an iconic blonde -- like Marilyn Monroe or Princess Diana -- and right now, I'm that icon."

More Sunday night thoughts

I just got back from a Sunday night bike ride, which got my brain going. So a few more thoughts.

1) it seems like everytime in the last 3 or so weeks that I've been having a conversation with someone at a cafe, the lone person next to us has been eavesdropping, not subtly but blatantly, as in nodding of head, guffawing at things we've said, and even jumping in at points. Now, we all know that no table is an island unto itself, and once in a while it's fun to make a new friend at a cafe. But to be that blatant about it, especially when the other table shows no interest in drawing you in, is not socially acceptable!

2) Update on the dishonest signature gatherer/slots initiative -- the Washington Post ran a good editorial on the subject on Saturday titled Don't Sign. I saw a signature gather at the Dupont Farmer's Market today and was all ready to tell him off, but he turned out to be innocently gathering signatures for Councilmember David Catania.

3) I saw Lejeune at the Galaxy Hut this weekend (images here). Good stuff. They've got a sound all their own, but I picked up influences as diverse as New Order and the Ventures. J, possessed of more music depth than I, said they reminded her of The Church, and sure enough it turns out that they list The Church as one of their many influences. Definitely worth seeing.

4) Gotta say something good about Galaxy Hut. If I lived in that neighborhood I'd be hanging out there every night.

Morf?

Morf?
Originally uploaded by alex.DC.

Who is Morf, and why do I imagine it to be the female counterpart to Borf? (Spotted at 18th and Q NW.)

Cracker @ 930 Club 7/14/06

Cracker @ 930 Club 7/14/06
Originally uploaded by alex.DC.

Last night I popped by the 930 Club to see Cracker, a band which most people probably still associate with a series of huge hits in the 90s such as "Low," "Teen Angst," and "Eurotrash Girl." And some also associate them with frontman Dave Lowery's other band, Camper Van Beethoven (cover of "Pictures of Matchstick Men," "Take the Skinheads Bowling.") Since those glory days of the 90s, they have gradually faded into a lesser level of fame ("they're still around?" one friend asked me), but one gets the sense that they don't care about that too much, and in fact the smoky, rootsy rock they play is better suited to bars than stadiums anyway. Happily, last night they seemed in top form, and the non-sellout but large crowd was totally into them.

Local band Revival opened for them. Their music was somewhat in the same vein, but more oriented towards the slow side, and augmented at times by violin (shades of Camper), keyboard, and electric clarinet.

Regrettably, my visit to the 930 club led me to realize that I've lost my driver's license, and despite my feeble protestations ("dhoude, I'm not even close to 21!") I was stamped underage, which is OK because the perfect spot we got at the front of the stage right next to guitarist Johnny Hickman's feet made it difficult to get to the bar anyway.

Before the show, we stopped at Polly's for a bite to eat. It's been many years since I've been to this neighborhood bar, mainly because for a time it would have been impossible to find a table or a seat at the bar there on a Friday night. Also the quality of their food seemed to diminish for a while. Apparently those days are past, and it wasn't overly crowded and my burger was delicious. And props to the waitress for bringing me a sample shot glass of beer to try when I couldn't decide what to get.

Movies

Two recent movies I've seen:

I caught Wordplay, a documentary about Crossword Puzzle competitions, at the Dupont Circle theaters this weekend. This movie is already a huge hit with crossword puzzle addicts everywhere, but even for a non-addict like myself (I just do them on planes), there was enough to keep this insightful look into an odd, nerdy world interesting. Appearances by crossword addicts Jon Stewart and Bill Clinton added to the amusement factor, and seeing the latter talk about how he does the NYTimes puzzle every day made me nostalgic for the days when we had a genuinely smart president.

On DVD, I watched the 1944 Murder My Sweet, a black and white classic about a hardboiled detective named Philip Marlowe who gets himself into a tangled mess when an oddball gives him $20 to find a missing old flame. With lines like "she had a face like mud," and "she was cool, like somebody making funeral arrangements for a murder not yet committed," this must be the movie from which all film noir spoofs are inspired.

Why I don't like to sign petitions

I have to admit I have a natural aversion to signing petitions. What it comes down to is that usually you have to take a random stranger's word that your name, address, and signature are going to be used for what they say they are. In what other scenario would you do that?

Case in point: couple of guys parked outside Prego (17th and Corcoran) this weekend, collecting signatures. I scooted by them so I could get in and buy a sandwich without being hit up for whatever it was they wanted, and then I was able to sit on the sidewalk terrace and watch them as I ate my lunch.

Their pitch to passers-by was "do you want to sign a petition calling for more DC lottery money to go to public schools?" Sounds good, right? A lot of people stopped and signed without wanting to know any more than that. But a few more knowledgeable people asked more detailed questions, which led to a more complicated story having to do with legalized gambling in southeast, and I got the distinct impression that in fact, that might be what this petition was about. Seemed a little disingenous to me.

Then a guy who apparently really knows what's going on asked one of the signature-collectors if he was from DC, and the guy told him no, at which point the guy lectured him and said that an earlier intiative had been thrown out for just that reason. (When I got home I looked it up on Washingtonpost.com and DCist and he was right: more details here and here.) So what we actually had going on there was not an effort to support public schools, but what looked like an incredibly dishonest effort to collect signatures for legalized gambling.

A few other observations: one of the signature collectors, the one from out of town, stopped his efforts for a good 20 minutes to hit on a woman who'd just given her name and address to him upon signing. Flattered by the attention, she told him all about the non-profit she worked at, impressed that she thought she'd met another do-gooder, rather than an out-of-town hack out earning $2 a signature from some faceless corporate entity.

It was funny to see some of the responses of people who didn't want to sign: many of them just stormed by without acknowledging them; a number of people said they weren't from DC, and in a few cases that seemed to probably not be true; and one woman said "I'm late for my yoga class." A variety of other lame excuses were offered up, and the signature collectors jokingly argued with many of them, but when a couple of women yelled at them "we're totally against gambling" they didn't even try to offer a response. Conversely, a homeless guy wanted to sign, and they tried to put him off with questions about his fixed address, but finally let him sign it.

In retrospect, a good question to ask such people would be "who hired you to do this?" And the moral of the story here definitely is: be careful what you sign. It is amazing to see how many people on 17th Street this weekend signed a petition for legalized gambling thinking they were helping kids.

Antelope @ Fort Reno

Antelope @ Fort Reno
Originally uploaded by alex.DC.

So last night I decided to mosey on up to see one of the free summer concerts at Fort Reno. I arrived just as Antelope, a Dischord band that's been around a few years and traces its ancestry to El Guapo, was starting to play. I hadn't heard them before but they were really good -- kind of a sparse, melodic sound (more photos here. Also playing were French Toast, who were also good but didn't grab me nearly as much.

Forgive me if I've said this before, but Fort Reno is one of the best ways to spend a summer evening in DC. It's outdoors in a beautiful setting, the crowd has the comfortable feel of a neighborhood barbequeue, and it's free -- a labor of love for as many years I can remember by a small ever-changing group of dedicated volunteers.

Afterwards since I was most of the way uptown, I decided to head up Wisconsin Avenue to the Armand's Carryout at the corner, up near Garrison or Harrison Street or somewhere like that. I was relishing the thought of eating a delicious slice of deep dish pizza at one of their outdoor tables, and so was disappointed to see that they were gone -- replaced by a Quiznos. Not the same thing at all!

So I pointed my car south down Wisconsin, and with little traffic, a long string of green lights, and a cool breeze in the window I decided to see where the road would take me. I drove all the way into Georgetown and turned left on M Street, and kept going, right until I found a parking spot as big as a house directly in front of the Red Lion (21st and Penn).

Despite being right on the GW campus, the Red Lion has a real low-key feel, and the conversation at the bar covered everything under the sun, most notably a debate on whether Ken Lay's widow would be able to keep his ill-gotten fortune (and whether she engineered his heart attack). They also have Nukie Brown on tap, and most importantly, via a dumbwaiter they serve food from Lindy's Bon Appetit, which has been a DC hamburger legend for decades.

Surprisingly for a place that stakes its fame on burgers, the blue cheese burger I had was coated with blue cheese dressing, rather than actual blue cheese. (The Childe Harold just north of Dupont Circle is really the place to go for blue cheese burgers, but I digress). Nonetheless, the burger was good and I had no regrets. I made a note to myself to return more often.

July 4 recap

It needs to be said that last night was a great July 4 celebration, not so much for the official fireworks display, but for the incredible amount of ordnance that was sent rocketing into the sky (and into trees, and houses) all over the District of Columbia. According to the Washington Post, in an article titled The Years of Living Dangerously, When Fireworks Were a Blast, most of these devices had to be illegal.

As two examples of what was being replicated on what seemed like every city block, coming up Rhode Island Avenue at around 8 pm, I spotted a whole family -- multiple generations of kids and kids at heart -- shooting off a barrage of bottle rockets that reminded me of the wild tracer bullets fired into the Baghdad air at the start of the Gulf War. Further up the road, a family had parked their 80's-era Oldsmobile at the side of 4th Street NW, and in plain view of a gaggle of DC cops who were occupied tending to a homeless woman, some kids were setting off the first of a tremendous array of firecrackers, pinwheels, and sparklers, while the parents were getting another case of fireworks out of the trunk in preparation for the next round.

Why not just watch the pyrotechnically superior, and legal, display on the Mall? That's not the point. There is something quintessentially DC about the do-it yourself spirit underlying this sloppy, dangerous, but exhilarating display of fireworks bought under the counter at ramshackle red-white-and blue stands, or imported from way out in the wilds of Virginia where explosives control of any kind is unheard of and people still celebrate the 4th by shooting in the air. Unsafe, definitely. But DC wouldn't be the same without it.

Trio and other stuff

Today more than most days, I mourn the loss of Trio Pizza (17th and P). Yes, I know Hank's Oyster Bar, which replaced it, has received good reviews. Yes, Alberto's Pizza (21st and P) has always served much better pizza. But there was nothing as perfect as Trio Pizza at the end of an exhilarating bike ride -- like the one I did today -- sitting at one of the outside tables, eating a pizza pie while drinking "beer" (before Trio's tried vailnyl to go a bit upmarket, they didn't even have a brand name for the cheap draft they served), as the sun went down. The pizza by the slice at Alberto's may be the best thing this side of the Lincoln Tunnel, but it just isn't the same experience.

I have a couple of CDs coming to me from Amazon.com. One of them is Blue Scholars, which I discovered because the song "The Ave" was the song of the day on KEXP's podcast (an excellent way to get free new music, by the way). The other is Gnarls Barkley, because my friend Junebug recommended one of their songs, "Crazy," as the song of the summer.

Interesting article

Flowers
Originally uploaded by alex.DC.

The weekend is going well so far, and made all the better because I have a surprise day off tomorrow. It's a surprise because I work with one colleague, and we cover for each other, which means if he takes time off I'm supposed to be there, and vice versa. I thought he was taking tomorrow off, and so I'd planned to come in. Fortunately we clarified this on Friday. I would've felt like a real doofus if we'd both come in Monday, especially since there will be nothing to do -- it'll be slower than six bunched-up Metrobuses rolling up 16th Street at evening rush hour.

Anyway, that's not the point of this post. I wanted to call attention to a great article in today's Washington Post. If you're a fan of Tom Wolfe (author of "Bonfire of the Vanities," among others) this is an interesting look at his early years as a writer on the Post's Metro Desk. Despite the inherent mundaneness of the job, he managed to slip his wit into everyday articles with phrases like "Zeroes in a budget stretched on 'like so many eggs in a hatchery.'" So, here's the article.