The Washington Express.

The title refers to the bus service that is currently transporting me to New York.

It's the same principal as Bolt Bus, Mega Bus, or any other of the express lines that have grown wildly popular between major east coast cities. 


But why what does Washington Deluxe have overits competitors? 1. It smells like cold campbells chicken noodle soup. 2. A black dude, much like Eddie Murphy as the preacher, with jerry curls galore and a gold 1988 town car to match ushers you onto the bus like its some sort of rocket with its short fuze already lit.

About the worst fake holiday bit, still true.  But when opportunity knocks... or shall I say Derek (same thing, right?)

Google Brian Zoubek.  Derek's friend.  They went to high school together.  Played on same sports teams.  They enjoy the same cuisines; mainly bagel bites or any other Tostino pizza product. They play Mario Cart.  Brian even looks over the fact that Derek's Polish.

You know what else he looks over? Try, everything. 7 foot huge, 2010 NCAA Basketball Champion.

This New Years, we romp around Manhattan for a Happy Zoubs Year.  With new blazer and darkest jeans available to man, we will go were the night takes us.



Somebody has to be eating cold chicken noodle right out of can on this god foresaken bus.

"I hunt da raaats"

Said the contractor. And on that note, to NYC I go.

'Happy Holidays' is for the terrorists.

Merry Christmas.

My apologies for the blogging sabatical. A few things are running against it.

- I don't want to lose my job. I'm still in the probationary period, so not being signed for offenses related to blogging would be the ultimate in stupidity.

-I don't know what to say. Literally. I'm confused as to what this whole working thing is supposed to be.

-Adam said, Derek's mom gets more comments on a trip to the grocery store than does this blog. Discouraging, yet true. Genevieve can stunt.

-Blogging as anything other a way to let people who want to know how you are and generally care about you is narcissistic.

I could furnish more excuses, but Im going to get off the bus instead.

See you on the other side of the worst of the fake holidays, New Years!


There are many more excuses I could furnish.

I wish upon a red rocket.

Deliver me.

Old Post Office

Almost there.

Christmas, not Holiday Tree.

Bless Cap City

Contrasts.

Black, white.

Peaceful snowfall, enraged anti-iran war protesters.

Me? I'm just trying to get a good cup of coffee.

The lives we lead.

So my friend Ryan works in a 'mental health clinic' (that was my futile attempt at political correctness, but 'funny farm' works just as well). While I'm about to exploit their insanity, I must first note that I fully respect the pain of those who suffer from mental illnesses and the manner in which those affected individuals must fight to preserve some semblance of a normal life.

With that being said, he comes home with some hilarious stories. Example provided over gchat:

"There was a patient at the hospital, who was juggling 4 oranges, and
as i walked by he goes "you dude, do you wanna go on a tour of the
underground railroad with me when i get out of here? ive been meaning
to do it for a while now"
so i think im gonna take him up on that offer "

As always, thank you Ryan.

Lamely Enough. . . .

1.) I redacted all traces of where I work due to the threat of losing my job. This is dumb.

2.) Anonymous posting has been taken advantage of, so I now moderate comments like China's Google, Kim Jung Il, and the Third Reich combined.

3.) One concerned reader commented that this blog has gone down in quality. 3 a.) I never promised nor delivered quality. 3.b.) My mom still loves it.

Transformers vs. Congressman

The following was sent to everyone on Capitol Hill back in my interning days. Transformers 3 was being filmed in DC. Only government stiffs would be able to construct in e-mail that makes enormous robot fights seem mundane. Great job.


10/12/2010
4:30 p.m.

Due to the filming of a movie studio production, the following street closures will be in effect for both vehicular and pedestrian traffic from 6:30 p.m. on October 12, 2010, through 6:00 a.m. on October 13, 2010:

Third Street from Independence Avenue, SW, to Constitution Avenue, NW, and
Fourth Street from Independence Avenue, SW, to Constitution Avenue, NW.

Filming will also extend to Grant Statue located in the Unit Block of First Street, SW. Additionally, there will be vehicle stunts, pyrotechnics, simulated gunfire, actors portraying armed military personnel, and a significant amount of filming equipment in the area. Oversight for filming will be handled by the Metropolitan Police and U.S. Park Service. There will be no filming on Capitol Grounds. Once the activity has concluded, an updated message will be sent. (dj/jb)

Please do not respond to this message. This is an unattended mailbox. End of message.


Cool, right?

Yea

"where are we?" - jh

Chingatown

jaime.

Hoyas vs Aggies

Free tickets to company box filled with beer.....don't mind if I do.  No better way to wake up on a beautiful Saturday morn.

Maybe this whole working thing won't be so bad after all.

Actually, check back with me on Monday.

Rats

Do you see the above? Drink it in for a while. Close your eyes even. Picture the rat, a rodent of such proportions, that it would dwarf most lap dogs.

Have it in your head?

Now realize this is reality. This is not a drill. It lives. THEY LIVE. More specifically, in the ceiling above Scott's bedroom.

We've heard them for a while, but have managed to drone the noises - those which seem to derive from their small industrial factory - with an old fan. As of recent, they have ramped up 'production' (or whatever they are doing) to such proportions that we are fearing of an invasion.


How this invasion may occur. . . we don't want to be around to find out. So as American war tactics go, we shall launch a pre-emptive attack.

Enter, the exterminator.

Till then, we must stay vigil.


Salim explains to Zoolander (not original names):

"They hear us plotting. They've sent a message to my blackberry saying 'stop it, we know, stop it."

"They did that? Wow, man."




PS- Mom, we aren't in any real trouble. Please dont 'txt' me with health warnings and suggested courses of action followed by "luv u".

I'm a big boy now. I can fight my own (rat) battles.

My View

Not so cool at the moment. Just got back from gorging myself on comp'ed indian food and my hair still needs to be cut.

I look like Justin Bieber the business man.

Update to come soon.

Being the grown-up that I now am, I attempted to get up this morning and tromp through the rain and the cold to my morning workout.

The whole scheme was ill prepared. Got to bed too late. Ate too much upon waking. Felt like the above picture denotes.

Whatever. Only a few more hours of self-loathing over task A-1 for the day failing.

Things to do: Haircut (lobbyists hate hippies), Cobbler (shoe repair . . . lobbyists also hate the poor), continue plan for world domination (as always)

Thanksgiving

After joining nearly 40 million people (as said by a radio DJ) on the road yesterday in the Thanksgiving traffic, I had arrived home.

Maybe its a small town Pennsylvania thing, but Thanksgiving Eve tradition is for everyone you ever played T-ball with, sat near in study hall, mowed their lawn, or passed in the grocery store to pile into a specific town bar and catch up on the times.

In the case of Nazareth, PA, this bar is the Holy Family Club: The social club of my childhood catholic school. Don't be surprised that the bar is owned by the church; growing up, the priests would drink like fish and smoke like (I wanted another animal here for continuity sake) their lives depended on it.

One must realize, I have panic attacks even going into the local Wal-Mart because of the inevitability of seeing faces I thought I would never have to see again. However, I feel removed enough - only now - from the town scene that last night was a blast. Maybe it was the Thanksgiving spirit, but it was great to see everyone.

Although it was most likely $1 beers and $2 coctails that did it for me. Oh, how I was thankful for that!

To conclude the Thanksgiving entry, I give you part deux of "Sam Malcolm: The life and times of" Enjoy, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Hello Everyone,
My guess is that most of you will be receiving this letter on the 25th, so I would first like to wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. I hope all of you find a large turkey at the center of your table today; not the feeble, french cousin which lacks the size and grandeur that are common in most American bred turkeys. Yes, it’s true. Turkeys in France are dwarfed by their American counterparts. An american, such as myself, can’t help using adjectives such as sickly, questionable, unfortunate and “smart”. When I say “smart,” I am not necessarily insinuating that the IQ of the French turkey is superior to that of the American, or that French consumers are more aware of any potential benefits of eating smaller fowl. No. Here in France, the word smart has taken on a completely new meaning thanks to the introduction of the Smart Car. Silly french people have associated the word “smart” with the size of the vehicle, hence, small.

I encountered this problem in class one day when I was describing the american university system to my students. It is first important to mention that in France, the majority of universities are free and non-selective. This means that when a student graduates from high school, and obtains their baccalaureate (massive, comprehensive test at the end of high school) he or she has the option of going to any university that suits their needs. Im sure you can only imagine the horrified looks on their faces and the peculiar noises they emitted when I informed them that most american students have to pay in the tens of thousands of dollars, every year, for four years, to attend college. To prevent any of my students from blacking out, I attempted to calm their nerves by talking about different monetary aids such as scholarships. Completely oblivious to their concept of the word smart, I explained to them that athletes, minorities and smart students are most favored to obtain this money to put towards education. I continued on for roughly another minute or two, explaining different aspects of scholarships. It is my belief that, during this time, each one of my students were concocting images of the typical american university in their head. I am certain that the overall image looked something like American Pie: Beta House with Gary Colemans running all over the place. Thankfully, the teacher was there to clarify that by “smart” I meant “intelligent,” thus rendering their conceptions of the american university a little more realistic and a lot less interesting. Just a little anecdote.

Anyways, since the last time I wrote, not much has changed. For the most part, striking has stopped in France which has brought regularity to my working schedule. I am now consistently teaching 10-12 hours of classes every week. I must emphasize that I use the word teaching very loosely because I don’t lecture the students on the fundamentals and rules of english, and I sure don’t evaluate the students. My sole objective is to come into class, speak english and make the students speak english. Some classes have proven to be extremely interested in learning english, or at least interested in having someone relatively young in their class who is not their teacher. There are other only a couple of classes which still remain opposed to learning english. These classes are older students who have already completed the Baccalaureate and are attending the post-grad professional school (which is business/trade oriented) that operates in conjunction with the high school. Students in this program have the tendency to feel that english is not and will never be valuable to them. Hence, they sit back in their chair, arms crossed, and when called on they respond, “Je sais pas” or “Je comprend rien”. “I don’t know” and “I don’t understand anything”. Some of these students are 20 or 21 years old, so its difficult for me to encourage participation as an older, more respectable teacher might be able to.
Fortunately, most of my classes have expressed a desire to learn. While they were very timid at first, students are starting to get used to me and open up. I have implemented a new tactic of speaking french poorly, from time to time in class, which usually creates lots of laughter and a general, good mood. Most importantly though, it shows them that making mistakes is completely normal, if not, expected. By speaking french poorly and being fine with it, I notice that students are becoming more comfortable with attempting to speak english which ultimately makes class a much more enjoyable experience. I also should not forget to mention that making mistakes with French (sometimes not on purpose) my students are very quick to correct me which I appreciate very much.

As for my personal francofication. I decline baguettes for whole wheat loafs. I eat eclairs and quiches from time to time, and have started weaning myself of the cheese diet that I started when I arrived here. Red wine is a constant in my apartment considering that quality wine here is very accessible and cheap, as you can imagine. I haven’t started wearing berets yet. My hair on the other hand is the longest its been since I’ve been alive, and I’m now letting my No Shave November extend itself all the way to the New Year.
Anyways, this is all I can write for now. I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving.

Much love, miss you all.

p.s. no i havent slept with any of my students

Till later, Capitol

Mom. . . Dad. . I got a job. Its true. Last Friday was, sadly, my last day as 'intern boy' for at least a while. It's not to say that I can't/won't return to my favorite title in the future, but as for now I am fully employed.

After some fresh bagels and a box of joe, I thanked the Congressional office for a truly eye opening, incredibly valuable experience and I was on my way.




Tomorrow is a new day, a different day. It is unlike any other I have had before. It is my first day of my first 'real' job. If the suspense hasn't killed you by now, my new employer is XXXXXXXXXXXXXX, across from the White House (it doesn't hurt to add that last part).

To explain the XXXXXXX, I quote their website: "The XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX business federation representing the interests of more than XXXXXXXXX businesses of all sizes, sectors, and regions, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX."

And of course, a second opinion from Wikipedia: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXis a lobbying group in the United States of America, representing many businesses and associations across the USA and throughout the world. It is not an agency of the United States government. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX staffed with policy specialists, lobbyists and lawyers. Politically, XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXis generally considered to be a conservative organization. It is known for spending more money than any other lobbying organization on a yearly basis.

To put that last part in perspective, Exxon Mobil spent approx. $27.4 million in 2009 while XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX spent approx. $144.5 in 2009.

Yea, they throw down.

What will I be doing for them? To be honest, not entirely sure. But one can only know so much from interviews. From what I do understand, I will act as the middle man between the various events/ experiential trips abroad/ published reports of the Commerce and their members - making sure each is receiving the maximum amount of benefits that the chamber has to offer.

How accurate will this be? Probably not very. But I'm very optimistic about the opportunity, the exposure it will afford me as to yet another side of Washington, my to-be boss, and a $1, 10 minute bus ride as my commute isn't a bad thing in the least.

As I felt a potential 'night before Disney' syndrome coming on, I have primed myself with some Advil PM to take the edge off before I go to sleep. 'Night before Disney' syndrome, you ask? Its the non-denominational way to explain the 'Night before Christmas' syndrome to all my Jewish friends (Shalom).

Till tomorrow.

Capitol Hill Club

Awesome watering hole.   They let the riff raff in the otherwise members only club for happy hour. Sorry for the terrible photo.  Its not terribly suave to take an obvious pic in places where the Bushes come to hang.

Muhlenberg

Baller. A preacher who said to his  congregation during the beggining of the revolutionary war, "there is a time to pray and there is a time to fight. The time to fight is now!" He then threw off his holy garbs, displaying a military uniform with sword underneath. All the men in his congregation followed him into battle. Like I said, baller.

There's only need for one star.

The first morning in a while where waking up was a casual affair. After a decent amount of HBO and a satisfactory period of 'chill' (for those who know me well, it wasn't long), I headed out to the next stage of my adventure.

The cab picks me up, drives a few miles, weaves through the Anaheim Angels Stadium (Angels in the Outfield, anyone?) parking lot, and drops me off at the Amtrak Station. I buy my ticket and I'm off to Los Angeles.

From Union Station in LA, I take the Metro to Hollywood Blvd. in order to do the requisite touristy motions and pass the time until Gina, my resident LA guide and friend since forever, gets out of work with America's Next Top Model. . . so Hollywood.

But as for now, my taste of LA derives largely from a drunk bum who nearly falls onto the tracks at the station. Before I witness my first death/suicide, police are quick to bring him to his feet and 'escort' him out.

As the escalator delivers me into the daylight from the grim scene that is the LA subway, Hollywood Boulevard is RIGHT there. And let me tell you, cinematic tricks make this famous street appear much more glamorous than reality. The stars are lining the sidewalk in front of cheesy tourist traps and even cheesier gift shops.

Sorry Adrienne, was going to spring for the "Best Sister" Oscar Award, but then I remembered that I never had another sister to compare you with. In addition, I didn't have $9 to spare on a 6 in. naked plastic man. Although, if another occasion ever arises where a similar naked man is presented to me at $8 and doesn't throw any unearned accolades your way, be sure I'll make the purchase.

So I continue to take in Grauman's Chinese Theatre, the "Hollywood" on high above the city, et cetera. After a tiring morning, I head to the Renaisance Hotel lobby,\ to chat with my pilot friend about worldly issues.

Soon enough, Gina picks me up and we dash off through LA traffic. She points out every restaurant and cafe ever featured in People magazine, E! Hollywood, or other star obsessed media outlets that I've never kept up with.

Its amusing to hear of a city where obsession revolves around a certain class of people, the celebrity. Sounds familiar? DC does it too. Except those obsessed over here are much less attractive and much more nerdy. Example: Gina nearly runs over T.I., famed rapper and ex-con, in a crosswalk and I nearly trip over Wolf Blitzer, CNN Politico, on a run around town.

Analogies always work: Washington, DC is to ambassadors, senators, and K Street Lobbying firms as LA is to studios, talent agencies, and recording label. Gina's roomates conversations followed accordingly. Maybe I watch too much Entourage, but it was interesting in the least and enlightening at the most.

That evening, we headed out to Santa Monica on the coast for sushi. Now, that was the California that the Governator's wife and Beckham speak of in the tourist board commercials. Beautiful.

A great evening that ended in a nearly delusion spell of fatigue. To bed, I went.

Sadly, my taste of the real LA ended as soon as it began. The next morning I was off on the Super Shuttle to be flown out of LAX.

But now, I'm back in the Dirty and going to pick up the one and only Theodore Allen.

In and Out Burger. Check.

They were just... ok. Five Guys, you still have the title.

Victory party, but we lost?

A great time.  We were not about to pay for drinks in the main ball room, open to the public.  So we dove into a private party, and when approached through around the words "from Washington", "flown out to help the campaign", "big supporters", etc.  However, we got too cocky and brought in 5 other people into our plan and were asked to leave by the dorkiest press secretary ever. Regardless, thank you Mr. Moldanado. Your gin and tonics were great.

Needing greener pastures, my friend managed a press pass, and began taking out goblets of wine and food from various other rooms.

The whole night was very Robin Hood, if you will.

CBS 2. KCAL 9. Intern boy goes public.

Phone Banking

Mobilizing Californians next to my buddy, Mimi Walters, candidate for CA State Treasurer.

Little Mermaid playing in the distance...

Richard infront of HQ

Thinkin bout shreddin some gnarr

Laguna Beach

No signs or LC or any other of the '15 seconds of fame' crew.

Arrived

Im too tired/hungry/cold to come up with something witty enough to detract from how tacky the above is.  Regardless, Im in CA. And all I need is a 5 hr. Energy to get the juices flowing for tonight.

Carly Fiorina for Senate

Thats the race I have chosen to support as election day comes ever near. Why you may ask have I selected a candidate for Senate from California? Her flying me out, putting me up in a hotel, and paying for pretty much all  expenses definitely had something to do with it.

After hopping in a cab at 4:45, Im now sitting at Dulles waiting for my flight to Dallas, Tx y'all.

I'm struggling with a few things, currently. First, why is this money being dumped on to me? Secondly, is this real life? Search 'david after the dentist' on youtube.com if you missed the reference.

Belly of a New Beast

Inside the US Chamber of Commerce, ready to explain to someone as to why they should chose me over the other pokemon. An interview.

I havent done this in a while, yet it feels more comfortable than ever before.

Good, it  better.

Sam - A Special Report

One of the soldiers amongst my rank has taken on the venture of teaching English to those baguette loving, skinny cigarette smoking, barrette wearing, stinky French children. The following is the account of his experience to date. Enjoy. I did.


Hello Everyone,

I am currently on a high speed train that just left Paris’ Gare du Nord headed towards the Belgian city of Brussels, home of the European Union, to begin my 12 day vacation. At the end of October every year, the French Educational System feels obliged to provide its teachers this period of freedom, also known as vacannes de Tout-Saint, as an escape from the pimply, hormonal, face-sucking french youth. As the northern French countryside zips by while the sun ricochets into my eyes from the adjacent French girl’s pocket mirror, I sit here with a peculiar feeling. Only three weeks ago I arrived here in France, and if my calculations are correct, I’ve managed to have worked only 8 of the 13 days which I was assigned to teach. Im not complaining, I get paid and I still get to retain my allotted vacation time.

If you’re thinking that being able to work only 60% of your mandatory schedule is a bargain, think again. Some of my english speaking colleagues haven’t even met all of their classes. For an explanation to this bizarre phenomenon, look no further than the European section of BBC website or any other news disseminator. President Sarkozy, known as “Sarko” or “Carla Bruny’s husband”, and his cronies have proposed a law that would push the official retirement age back two years from 60 to 62. Now that the law is soon to be voted on, and expected to pass, by the National Assembly and the Senate, the unions over here have mobilized. The three most noticeable retaliations are being conducted by transport (Bus, Railroad) officials, oil refineries in Marseille, and students. The consequences of the strikes being undertaken by transport officials is rather predictable: trains and buses not running on or smooth schedule or at all. The work of a very small percentage of disgruntled workers who maintain the oil refineries of the coast of Marseille have effectively stopped the production of petrol, therefore blocking its passage to French engines. The VAST majority of gas stations across France had to put plastic bags over their pumps, and put signs up declaring a rupture of gasoline. The implications could be very severe. Several of my co-workers didn’t show up to work on the Wednesday and Thursday before I left due to the fact there isn’t enough in their tanks. AND FINALLY, the students... My students have gone on strike several days, a few of which they were joined by their instructors. However, my school has managed to keep the strikes very minimal in comparison to other schools located in the larger cities. In Paris and Lyon, the students have finally brought out their keffias, hoodies, and skinny jeans and have begun a series of completely disorganized skirmishes with the French police.

The student strikes at my school have been somewhat hysterical and enormously pathetic. The students block the entrances with moveable gates and trash cans, and begin their political chants at roughly 8 AM. When cars go by the honk and the students scream with joy. At 12, they all put their signs down and go inside to the school canteen for lunch. Each student takes their bowl of mixed greens, their hot main dish, a side dish, a side of cheese, slices of baguette, a piece of fruit, and the choice of a yogurt or desert. Lunch will last for about an hour or an hour and a half; no rush though. Then its back to the entrances, but not before having some nice warm coffee.

But anyways, the days I have taught have been very enjoyable. The classes have all seem to taken a liking to me, some more than others. Its interesting to see how timid the students are when it comes to speaking English. The French education system, as well as the seemingly universal, cold nature of French teachers, have made most students embrace silence rather than speaking up and making a mistake. The French have certainly done their students a disservice.

I must admit, this email seems to be the most difficult I’ve ever written in terms of being able to write English in a fluid, accurate manner. Even though its slightly frustrating right now, Im taking it as a good sign; that my mind is more accustomed too processing french. With the exception of speaking english in class, I use French all the time with my teachers, my roommates, and sometimes with my students. I listen the radio in French. I just finished my first roman, and have started reading Zola.

Were arriving at Bruxelles station now, so Im gonna wrap this up. Ill send this email when I get to the hostel.

Love,
Sam



p.s. just arrived at the hotel to discover that sarkozy has unblocked the refineries. im watching a muted television, but it looks like there was a lot of violence. stretchers and a body bag if im not mistaken. as you can see, the situation is pretty grave here now.

p.p.s looks like the senate passed the reform treaty too.

Jack-aganda

Like propaganda, except about Jack.

Get it?

But really, Jack.  How uncomfortable is it to have Janet Morgan Riggs' hand that far up your....?

I might tattoo that picture on my chest. Still debating.

Outa here

Heading home for the last of the pinky saga. 

My hearts beating out of my chest from all the coffee, diet coke, and Taco Bell the Republican National Committe fuels us with to be their political automotons.

But its what's going  to happen if I want to push this Capitol Hill game as far as I can take it.  You work on a campaign, connections made, incumbent booted from office, and then your absorbed off the street as someone who was there before success.

I will soon report the length of the 'absorbtion' process, which is dismally long and uninsured at best.

But only so much can be done before my stop on the blue line.

note:

Anyone who's recently graduated. To anyone who's accepted a position and is insecure about their path. To anyone who's not yet employed and is uncertain of their future.  I say, good. 

Lets get it all out of system sooner rather than later, right?

This guy.

This is insane.

No one that is awake knows this 30 something dude.  There is no other way to put this.

There is a guy. Sleeping in Phil's house. No one knows him.

Marc. Are you serious?

The 'burbs.

Second attempt at posting. Pic is blurry, so am I. Heading out to burbs. I would only do this for the one and only co-owner of my long time home and lawn company, forever friend Marc.  


This shall be some type of weekend.

The Countdown: Pinky's Return to Normalcy

Week three. How far you have come pinky, yet how ugly you are.  I await the day that you shall rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

Receptions.

The Pennsylvania State Society.

Free drinks, shameless hob nobbing, dont mind if I do!

The society rented out a great space near gallery place in DC. A lot of people from 'home' as I now generally accept people from PA to be now that I'm the Cap City.

Till a sober later.

The Belly of the Beast

It has been a few days since I have updated, but all for good reason.  The great job search has yet again come into full swing. Blogging has fallen way to such great past times as "great,I'll forward you my resume" and "phone tag-a-thons." 

Such shameless acts of networking has recently afforded me the opportunity to dive down into the belly of the capitalist beast - the Republic National Committee HQ. 

I'll explain soon. In the mean time,  off to preparefor the PA State Reception. 

Yuengling.

Later.

Lodato

"I was never into that 'hey everybody naked in the shower' type of thing. That was always you guys and your 'hey, im cool with my sexuality'".

"do you blog from your phone? You a#$hole"

Also, saw my college professor out qt the bars tonight engaging in some scandeluous/ simply human activities. More on it later.

Jack

Scott received a post card from our alma mater after they had called, asking for a donation.  He declined, as he is unemployed. However, putting Jacks ugly mug on the card does make you want to give money to someone of misfortune.

To those friends abroad.

Miss and love you, Jack.

Back to DC

God save the queen

23 In DC Soundtrack

Band of Horses. I'm not sure about the video, but I prescribe listening to the song at night, in car or by foot, but most definitely under street lights. Don't comment until you try. You'll feel as 'deep' as the biggest hipster Brooklyn (or H St. for those Washingtonians) has to offer.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I don't like that saying. At all.

Maybe its the black and white application of logic that I, for better or worse, use to make sense of the world that turns me off to such a plainly contradictory statement.  But how far can logic get you in understanding life anyway?

Example: Everyone wants their life to be different in some way. Whether its money, power, location, job, et cetera, we want a change to occur in atleast a small facet of our lives.

So logically, when you think change would equal happiness and change occurs, you should be happy. A classic logical proof.

So as it always does, change occurs.  Its the only thing thats ever stays the same. And what we find, is that we miss the past.  Budhists have a great way to deal with the aforementioned effect; Don't become attached to anything if your only going to suffer when its gone.

As this is being published on my phone from atop an exercise ball, I have lost my train of thought entirely.

There was some intelligent conclusion regarding our return to Gettysburg College alumni weekend and my sentiments as to being implanted into my past.

But all I really can come to think or now is that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Pwn nwbs

Being poor, pt. 3?

First, we brought you 1 pickle, 1 cheese, 4 pretzels. Then we brought you cheese lollies. Now, we are proud to present banana-peanut butter-brownie-honey panini. On wheat of course, because without your health what are you?

Cigarettes and Mayonnaise

" poor people love mayonnaise. They make mayonnaise sandwhiches. Don't you listen to Trick Daddy?"


On that note, goodnight.

A day at the office...

Points of Reflection

Its exponentially more difficult to pass background checks / employment certification at Washington Sports Club than it is for a congressional office.

Also, people seem to demand more from their gym than their congressman and become more encited by oversite with yoga schedules than overspenditures in domestic policy.

This is the world you live in.

lower case letters, and the current state of my pinky.

yes, that was an actual picture of my pinky. yes, using only one hand shall i record this entry, hence the gramatical errors. and yes, the plastic surgeon triumphantly put humpty dumpty back together again. thank god.

as told, after work on friday i take the trip home. after a day of my parents showering my largely unemployed self with new shoes/suit/etc, i head over to the neighbors party. later, after i return home, i decide to close a door in such a manner as to not use the handle.

everybody does it, so i wanted to beat the cliche.

bad idea. pinky went into hinge. pinky was destroyed.

you must be thinking, how stupid!? i couldn't agree more.

was told be e.r. bone was probably broken, tendon damage, and i would be nail-less for eternity. goodbye hand modeling.

my finger then 'marinaded' if you will - allowing swelling to go down over 3 day period.

then, my savior, sanjay gupta . . . or a plastic surgeon figure generally fitting his profile + mustache. but mustaches only lend further credibility so i was sold.

approx 20 stitches and one minor surgery later, not only am i once again a real boy, but will also have a fully intact finger, plus nail.

that is the story. not glorious. not flattering. if you can stomach it, more pictures to come.

My finger.

This sucks.

Train Time

That is the current view from my MARC train from DC to Baltimore. Headed home for the weekend for an ol' fashion kegger/bonfire/barbecue bonanza with a great group of people.

I was so engaged with watching the city disappear as the train left that a train person was able to take my ticket, rip the stub, and place it back down without me noticing.

Thats bad.

See you soon St. James Court.

Lunch

"Its when 'disturbia' was cool."

Me, jamie,  scott, victoria and lots of wine. A great night to cap off a day of the intern blues.  Made sweet potatoe chips, med. lentil salad, and more wine. Back to the valley after tomorrows attempt at asserting intern dominance. I shall explain at a later date.

Entourage

First, I would like to apologize to those viewing some of my uploaded pictures from a desktop because you are forced into neck breaking poses in order to see the photo. However, I have yet to figure out how to properly alter them, and some are too good to pass up.

Such as the above. A classic congressional entourage that I found myself behind while walking to the bathroom.  If I was only as important as I sometimes appear to be.

Validation?

Guess I shouldn't be so conscious about hiding that intern badge after all. At least the original 90210 wasn't popular when I was in my teens.

Life as it is.

That's my current view of the world, sipping coffee from the third floor cafe of Barnes and Nobles.  Iced coffee... no ice.  It usually draws a look from the given barrista. 

I find myself here, wanting to backhanr the dude next me who is coaching this girl on the phone as how to drive, eat yogurt,and talk on her cell phone -all in the most disgusting pet voice you can fathom.

Really, I road my bike here after getting out of work to meet Scott and Jamie.  Scott is filling out state department tests while Jamie reads something that looks like Vanity Fair. Standard.

So it looks like Ill be working 8 to 6 on mondays and tuesdays at Washington Sports Club Georgetown.  Staff seems fun, they are paying me a decent wage, and I get the unlimited east coast membership for free. Not bad. Plus, its down the street from my house so lunch break takes place in my living room.

Today was Congresses' first day back in session. When I show up to work tomorrow, the halls will be abuzz with politicians left and right- walking fast and talking faster.  I'm excited what the change in work means for me. All I truly know thus far is that I have to wear a suit, or at least tie and jacket. But the way I see it, dress for the job you want, not the job you have. Tacky, yes. Effective, most probably. Its a vain world; play by its rules or suffer its consequences.  I'll play.

Stay tuned.

Baked & wired

Don't worry, mom. Its the name of the cafe. Jamie and I escaped the  war room for a little bit to get some work done. Depicted above is jamie's drink. He's a Twilight fan.

Cheese Lollies.

A new creation from our renowned culinary repetoir. 

Dude, he's a Senator.

Upon further investigation and me playing the 'how fast can i get your business card' game, the guy was not a senator- contradicting the information overheard by Jamie later to be understood as to have come from a drunk bum.  

But those Z burgers at 3 a.m. were sent from God.