Storm a Brewin'

Admiral Boom: Good afternoon to you, young man. Where are you bound?
Bert: Number 17. Got some parties who want to see it.
Admiral Boom: Enter that in the log.
Mr. Binnacle: Aye, aye, sir.
Admiral Boom: A word of advice, young man. Storm signals are up at number 17. Bit of heavy weather brewing there.
Bert: Thanks, Admiral. Keep an eye skinned.
Bert: Here we are, 17 Cherry Tree Lane. Home of George Banks, Esq. Hello, Hello, Hello. Admiral's right, heavy brewing at number 17 and no mistake.

10 points to whoever guesses the movie.

Speaking of heaving brewing, there is STORM a comin'! DC will be under a flood warning by the day’s end, on account of Tropical Storm Ernesto. But I’m not scared. I love this stuff. I’m like Lieutenant Dan on the ship. You know.

I say, bring it, Ernesto.

BRING.

IT.

And again, I have to apologize to my regular readers. Haha, all two of you. I know I broke my promise of posting every other day. There’s been some, how do I say this... shit. But all is better now. These last two weeks have been strange, but I haven’t forgotten to notice life’s little idiosyncrasies. So I have a lot to catch up on. Word.

Why We Crave the Bad

I've been wondering a lot lately why we crave what is obviously not good for us. Why do I reach for the hidden box of cigarettes? The bikers and struggling musicians? That last beer before the night's end? The french fries? The chocolate fudge sundae? An extra trip to the ATM? The unattainable? The incapable.

It might be the thrill. You know. The thrill of being "bad." Making out in the bushes behind a crowded street. Feeling like a bad ass at a local bar. Going 90 on the highway. These are all things I do! And I'm a rational, logical person. Right? How does it all make sense I wonder.

Deep down, I know what's good for me. I know that I'm ingesting toxins into my body with every puff, with every bottle of Magic Hat. I know I risk getting another hundred dollar ticket every time I go above 65. But, yet, that doesn't stop me from surpassing 85. Every time. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

I had a recent chocolate craving. No, strike that. I had a recent "get the hell out of my way or I will frickin' kill you if I can't find a piece of god damn chocolate around here" craving. Don't worry, I was successful. Thank god. Anyway, I wondered why. I'm really not a huge dessert person. It definitely isn't that time of the month. So what did I really need?

After some extensive research (ok, a few google searches, you caught me), I discovered that there are, in fact, studies that show that chocolate is like sex. Cocoa releases serotonin, dopamine and something called phenylethylamine. Essentially, they all make you feel, shall we say, "excited." Now, you'd have to eat a frickin' 18-wheeler full of the stuff to really get, shall we say, "excited," but still. Point taken.

Second point: there is nothing wrong with feeling excited! Sure, the rational side of me says, "Date the nice boy.. the safe boy.. order the salad.. you don't need alcohol to have fun.. and save money, make a frickin' sandwich today!" but where's the fun in that?

The release of serotonin is a natural phenomenon. I believe that certain activities were meant to do this. Sorry, dear friends at the Vatican, but it's true.

I've been trying to convince myself to get past the lack of excitement - the lack of serotonin - in a few situations recently. I try to convince myself that, in the long term, this will make me happier. But, at least for me, I need a little spark. I need to feel weak in the knees. I need to feel like my family might not approve. And, god damnit, I need another french fry.

The Urge to Dance

Did you ever just get the urge to break it down on the sidewalk? I did. This morning. It surprises me because it was raining, I was under my umbrella and it was muggy as hell. But my ipod was turned up and I couldn't control the urge.

I was at a red light. The red stop hand forced me to stand still, waiting for the white walk man to appear. Some mellow reflective song ended. And then, as if the gods planned it, just as I was allowed to cross the street, just as the white walk man showed his face, Aretha blurts out "This the House that Jack Built."

It was a long walk signal. Now, in DC, the walk signs tell you how many seconds you have to cross. This particular intersection gives you about 75 seconds. I thought, you know what, I could totally take my time and dance across this street! I could do all my moves that I normally do in my head. I could twist around, throw in a little shoulder action, a little hip action, and give these stopped cars a show!

So now my new obsession is to dance across intersections. Wouldn't this make morning commutes so much more entertaining!? I mean, seriously, why not? The cars at the opposite light can't go anywhere, and I have all the time in the world to dance across!

I think Washingtonians would be so much happier if this actually happened. We all have ipods already. And we're bobbing our heads. I say, let it out, people! You know you want to! Dance across that intersection! Don't let societal norms hold you back! Jackson 5, Aretha, Whitney, George Michael, techno remixes, Rent Soundtrack... whatever! You feel it, you go for it.

Haha, ok, so I've had some wine. But this thought actually did cross my mind this morning. Think about it. I picture the opening scene of Austin Powers when they all dance in unison down the street in cheesy outfits. The new DC... just you wait.

Creepy Old White Guy

Lots to catch up on! Sorry for breaking my "every other day" blog posting promise, but I was on a mini vacation and have just recovered and transitioned back to real life. Incidentally, I wish the beach was real life. I wonder if I could survive there on an artist's income. I would be a very tan, very relaxed, artist.

Anyway, fast forward to yesterday afternoon. (Or rewind, depending on where you started.) In an effort to maintain my newly achieved tan through September, which is the date of a very special wedding, I decided it'd be best to lay out in the local park by my apartment and catch some rays. I do this often, bringing my "park blanket" and a book or my ipod. Sometimes the Post. Sometimes I get a sandwich. Sometimes I get all crazy and get an Italian sub. Those are exciting days.

So yesterday, I get all my supplies (sandwich, book, etc.) and I pick my spot on the grass. I position my flip flops and my bag by my hand so that, if I fall asleep, it's less likely that someone will steal them. I apply some tanning lotion, roll up my tank top, and prepare for the ultimate in local DC relaxation.

Until! All of a sudden I notice a man walking towards me. I immediately stereotype him as a "creepy old white guy." He walks around the tree a few times, and then lays down on the grass not too far from where I am. This would be normally ok... if the park was crowded. But it was NOT crowded. I'm thinking, grrrreeeeat. Pervert.

I ignore him, glancing up every now and then to see him staring at me. His shirt comes off (ew, FYI) and he lounges on one elbow facing me the whole time.

I refuse to move. This is my park too, damnit. And there are people around, so I don't feel like I'm in any immediate danger. So I stay there. I eat my delicious sandwich (props to So's Your Mom deli). I make a few phone calls, try to read my book, etc.

Finally, though, I had to give in... not because his staring got to me, but because he started saying things. Out of nowhere, I hear, "You're so beautiful. I want to take you home with me." It was so faint, I thought for a second that I must have imagined it. But it was real. And it was very VERY creepy.

So I moved to a another spot in the park. And after a few minutes, I peered in his direction to see that he had left. Apparently he felt rejected.

Creepy old white guy, here are some tips. Don't be so creepy! This is not a good way to get girls. Keep your shirt ON. And wait until at least a few conversations have transpired before you start whispering sweet nothings from across the grass. Did you really expect a positive response? Has anyone ever been like, "Sure! I'll come home with you! Better yet, why don't you come over to my place? Creepy old white guy, you're awesome!" Well, maybe it works for you once in a blue moon. But not today.

My Narrow Mouth

I have always hated doctors. With a passion. You can trace this back to many things in my childhood, of course, but let’s not go there. Let’s focus on the positive.

So I recently chose a new dentist, which, by the way, is the worst of all doctors (haha, this may not be so positive after all). I have always feared the dentist and have always dreaded going. I have very strong opinions about what goes in there. For example, I believe that the reason my gums bleed is because, “I obviously have very sensitive gums, more sensitive than most.” But, in reality, I know that it’s because I don’t floss enough. Still, that doesn’t stop me from grunting, “Owww... what the hell?” when they poke at me, usually followed by, "f'in bitch," in my head. And then I add a good solid roll of the eyes. I believe that oral hygienists have the compassion of twigs.

I am so horrible as a dental patient, it’s almost embarrassing. I say “almost” because I haven’t yet reached the point of rational thinking. I still HATE the dentist and all that he stands for. I still think the equipment is barbaric and cruel. And I still think people who go into the dental profession must have some sick twisted idea of humanity. And it’s called sadism.

With that said...

I went to the dentist yesterday for a follow up appointment, some x-rays and a discussion with the doctor about additional cosmetic work. I have to say, if I must endure the dentist, I found the place to do it. This place has scented candles, soothing music, water, juice and a food massager. And, they LOVE me. What can I say, I know how to turn on the charm when necessary.

Throughout the whole experience – the x-ray chair, the regular chair and the three or four hygienists that worked on my mouth – there was a distinct theme. I’ll let you be the judge. You ready for this? These are actual quotes, no joke.

During xrays:
(The hygienist didn’t speak English very well.)
“Oh boy! You have small mouth! How supposed to get it in there?”
“You can’t open mouth wider than THAT?”
“Mouth so small! How you have mouth so small?”

During the consultation with the doctor:
(The doctor was amazing, but loved to hear himself talk.)
“You don’t have a lot to worry about actually. You have great lips. And you present well.”
“What I’d like to do is widen your smile. Like Julia Roberts. Your mouth is really narrow, but it’s deep.”
“You have excellent bone structure. Very healthy. Very healthy.”

During the goopy-mold mouth impression:
(This hygienist was curiously giddy. I think she snuck into the nitrous room actually.)
“I can’t seem to fit it in. Your mouth is so tiny!”
“I want to use the child version on you because your mouth is so small, but then we wouldn’t be able to get it all the way back. Your mouth is narrow, but it goes back far!”
“You have to be quick with these things. Sometimes it gets hard before you even get it in the mouth.”
“Brace yourself. I’m about to pull it out.”

So, in the end, given the obvious hilarity of the above quotes, this past dentist appointment wasn’t so bad. It’s amazing how a little sexual innuendo can make any situation funny... and, in the case of the worst doctor in the world (i.e., the dentist), sexual innuendo can make it tolerable... especially when you’re laughing on the inside, unbeknownst to anyone else in the room.

I also learned that although my mouth is abnormally narrow, it’s deep. And I have nice lips.

Flux

Flux is such a great word. Totally underutilized. I feel that lately my life has been in a somewhat surreal state of flux, which, by definition, means flow or change (or bodily discharge, fyi, but obviously I'm avoiding that particular meaning, at least for this post).

I've always been the type of person that avoids change at all costs. Moving to DC was the biggest change I had ever hoped to endure. I'd go to school here, get a job here, meet new friends, live here, breathe here. Forever. FOR. EV. ER. Thank you Sandlot.

But what I failed to realize was that change would happen around me and directly to me. And that I'd be powerless to stop it. People move away. Schmadri, Schmenny and Schmatie (names have been changed for the sake of anonymity), for example, three of my closest and dearest friends, three people that know me better than most, have already moved on. And several more are about to. My job has changed... twice. My apartment... once. My hair... a lot.

People in this city are constantly saying that DC is "so transient." It's become a cliche at this point. "Oh, nobody is actually from here. It's so transient. You know." ... "Yeah, man. Word."

Well, finally I've accepted this state of change, this state of flux, for what it is. One of the tenets of Buddhism is that life is always in flux. There are no constants. And if we believe that something is constant or always this way or that way, we are fooling ourselves. And we create what Buddhism calls "dukkha," which is essentially when you feel like shit. Ha.

People will move away, and I will miss them. But I have the power to keep in touch and to... pause... "visit" them. I mean, really, it's not like I have to wait for the next horse and buggy to pass through town. Everyone has their own path. Right now, mine is here. And it'll be interesting to see where others' paths take them.

Also, change is not necessarily negative. I'm so happy I'm on job #3 now. I love it. And if it weren't for job #2, I wouldn't be here. Scmatie, Scmadri and Schmenny are all in great places now. We'll always have a strong bond, and I am so very happy (and hopeful) for them. And change can be cyclical too. Schmaroline and Schmusan, yay for your return. And I love this apartment. And my hair, well, it's a work in progress. But that's kind of fun. It's in flux, so to speak.

According to a Buddhist saying, we are not corks in a river, as many proverbs teach, flowing with the tides and the waves. We are the river, changing, adapting and then changing again. As for transiency, I say bring it on. It's what makes life interesting and fun. I'm a river, damnit. Next post: why tubing is frickin awesome.

Madam's Tomorrow Night

How can you resist the Madam?

Well, perhaps you can. I mean, it's possible. But in any case, as you may know, RAINN is hosting charity happy hours at Madam’s this summer. And you CANNOT resist THAT! Plus, you get to hang out with cool people (eh hem, excuse me, cough) at a very cool place.

Madam’s is donating $1 from every drink and 20% of food sales directly to RAINN’s programs, including the National Sexual Assault Hotline.

The next happy hour will be from 5 to 9 pm on Thursday, July 20, which is (eh hem) TOMORROW.

There's one more on August 17, FYI.

Going out anyway? Go out for a great cause.

See you there. Don't be a loser. ;)

More info about RAINN can be found at www.rainn.org.

More info about Madam’s Organ can be found at www.madamsorgan.com.

Madam's Organ
2461 18th Street, NW
Washington, DC 20009

Being Real

Don't you wish sometimes that people would just be real? Just completely and utterly honest. Not so much with actual facts, but more on the emotional side of things. I do. And I'm not saying that I'm the perfect model of honesty. I tend to withdraw, close up, become emotionally removed. But lately, I'm getting better. And in getting better... in seeing things for what they are... I'm opening up. And I'm happier.

So let's talk about what's real.

Today, I made a pact to update this blog more often. At least every other day. That is my goal. And I will do it, by god.

Let's see. What else? Ah, I quit smoking last week. And then, in a somewhat predictable drunken moment, I bought a pack and I smoked. So the reality of that situation is that I haven't completely quit. But I've quit enough to feel better. To breathe better. To focus. And I love that.

And lest we forget the oppressive heat. I know it's not just DC, but it tends to be worse here. There is no breeze. There is no water. Only humidity. And smelly sweaty people.

I ate some pasta tonight that I made over a week ago. If I get sick, I have only myself to blame. But it was still good.

I watched Must Love Dogs on HBO. Great cheesy movie.

And now here I sit, finishing a glass of wine, wondering where my John Cusack is. No. Wait. Strike that. Wondering where my Christopher Plummer is. Christopher Plummer in the early years, of course. This is the first night in a while that I haven't gone out. And I'm enjoying the quiet. I'm thinking about my wonderful friends, my family and my sister. Boon, the will power I have at this very moment not to have a cigarette is for you.

Here's to being real.

Waking Up to Clear Skies, Fuzzy Head

Finally! After about a week of rain, the sun is finally out. Seriously, that was insane. If you live here in DC, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I was almost ready to call up my good buddy Noah and load up the animals. Save the monkeys! Haha.

Side note, if that actually did happen, and we had to choose which species to save in order to prevent their extinction, can you imagine the chaos that would ensue? Don’t let the dirty monkeys on the ark! No homosexual monkeys either. We only have room for a few select Hispanic monkeys (but only after they undergo a time-consuming and expensive ark admittance process). And if you’re a Muslim monkey, forget about it. But if you’re a Christian monkey, extra bananas for you!

In any case, we are all very grateful that the Great Deluge has seemingly ended.

It was a gorgeous morning. And even though I was hungover, and awakened too early by my noisy upstairs neighbors, I felt refreshed by the change in weather. I was so happy, in fact, that the swarms of tourists did not affect me. I barely noticed the uptight businessmen and the unnecessarily fast-walking businesswomen. I barely even noticed my hangover. I took my time in the crosswalks. And my ipod provided a fun beat. Yeah, I’m that girl dancing on the corner. Life is good today.

Wow

In a way, I feel like this photo sums up these past few weeks...














Simply absurd.

Life throws curveballs all the time. This I knew. I just hope that like Connie's performance, my life will somehow show an inkling of humor amidst the craziness.

We shall see.

More to come soon.