The DC U-Turn

If Washington, D.C. has one redemption among it's countless failures, it has to be the public transportation system, or "The Metro". Metrobuses run fairly regularly and the subway can get you most places around the city. (Mental note: Write scathing blog entry over haughty Georgetown fucktards who do not want the Metro to have a subway stop in "their part of town".)

The reason I praise the Metro system is because if I ever had to drive anywhere in this city, I would wind up in jail for 1st degree murder. One reason: The DC U-turn.

If you haven't had the pleasure of witnessing one of life's dumber moments behind the wheel while in the District, let me enlighten you: The DC U-turn occurs when a particularly self-deluded DC motorist decides he forgot to drop his kid off with his illegal alien nanny, or, his trophy wife decided she should have worn her other pair of Jimmy Choo shoes (or any of the other hundreds she owns). Said motorist then pulls an illegal u-turn in the middle of the street, regardless of on-coming traffic. This will typically cause traffic to halt on both sides of the street to much tire screeching and horn honking.

The offending driver then proceeds to give dirty looks to everyone who has honked, as they are clearly "King or Queen of the World" and can do "whatever the fuck they like".

There are two main differences between the standard "Illegal U-turn" and the "DC U-turn". Firstly, the DC U-turn will only happen within 15 feet of a traffic intersection. Had the selfish prick (or prickette) taken an extra minute to properly, and safely, use the intersection to change directions the U-turn could have been avoided. Instead, it seems to be way more efficient to "pull the U-bee" in front of everyone else so they can see how important you are to change directions mid-street. Secondly, while an Illegal U-turn can be made by any type of vehicle on the road, the DC U-turn can only be done by Mercedes, BMWs, or Saabs.

Reason being is because "you gotta look good being an asshole", which I think is the new motto DCists are voting on for the new license plate.

I fucking hate DC.

Michael Bay Must Die!

Transformers: The Movie...enough said.

I was actually starting to get over my severe hatred for Michael Bay's salacious attempt at creating a live-action version of my beloved 80's cartoon. Then I stumbled upon an article in "The Onion" bashing his talent and mocking him creating a CGI Oscar for himself. Here is the link, it is hilarious:

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/cgi_team_creates_realistic_oscar

But back to my main rant...I hate Michael bay. His career started innocently enough with cult blockbusters like "The Rock", "Bad Boys", and "Armageddon", but somewhere along the line of success Michael's insanity grew. He was granted bigger budgets. Michael pumped out "Pearl Harbor", "The Island", and "Bad Boys II". Somehow, explosions and bullets began to replace important aspects of the movie like "plot" and "character development".

The ultimate heinous act came when it was announced he was set to direct "Transformers". I knew my fate was sealed. I went, I saw, I vomited. Michael Bay systematically raped my childhood in a short 144 minutes. For those of you who took enjoyment in this tepid piece of cow shit, I pity you. I invite you over to my place where I will break out a couple seasons of the animated series and help rehabilitate you to the true mythos of the Transformers.

Then we can plot the assassination of Michael Bay over popcorn and sour patch kids.

Attack of the Killer Coffee

I'm at work. No one else is. All three of my bosses are out on vacation so it's a little quiet in the cubby. I get a little sleepy. I need help. Hmm...coffee might help. I venture into the break room to hunt down coffee. I find the filter. I find the ground coffee beans. I find the coffee machine.

And then I realize I have no fucking clue how to run it. Damn.

I hunt for directions. There aren't any. Damn damn. Alright, well I am a college-educated person, how hard can it be to make coffee? It's just coffee beans and hot water, right? So I fill in what I think looks like 4 cups of water into the coffee pot. I place the filter in the filter holder. I scoop in what I think looks like 4 cups worth of ground coffee. Now I look for the spot where I should be pouring the pot full of water into to begin the brewing process.

Correction, I STUPIDLY look for the spot where I should be pouring the pot full of water.

You'd think this would be a pretty clear part of the machine. I search for the "moron directions", usually a short phrase stamped into the plastic that states "Pour Water Here" so us college graduates can make coffee for our bosses and prove to ourselves the $100,000 spent over the past God-knows how many years was worth it. No such luck for me. Damn damn damn!

So I pick an empty hole in the machine and pour the water in. I hit the "Brew" button and the machine starts to rumble. I watch patiently, trying to determine if I have made coffee or if the machine is going to self-destruct due to water damage. A brown liquid trickles into the pot.

I've made coffee!

And then I notice...there's less coffee than what I thought was going to come out. No matter, I probably couldn't drink 4 cups anyway. I pour my first cup and dig in. Hmm...very bold. And a texture I've never really tasted before. Kinda tastes like...a mouthful of freshly ground coffee beans! I've made some form of "Omega Coffee". It tasted good though. Unfortunately, I was pretty much wired from 11am-6pm straight through. Then I crashed hard and took a 2 hour power nap. I guess I needed to recoup after all those hours of jittering. I'll just chalk it up to a learning experience.

Hmm...still really quiet around here. Getting a little sleepy. Think I'll make some coffee...

The D.C. Grass Toupe

So I'm walking home from work one day and I take notice of this really stupid stretch of sidewalk I am ambulating on. There's nothing wrong with the concrete. For the most part, the ground around the sidewalk is dirt or spotty patches of light grass EXCEPT for the 14 inches of pristine, thick sod lining the walkway. I'm hoping the picture I took with my cell phone clearly illustrates this bonehead idea.

Honestly, who are we fooling? It looks like a really bad toupe for grass with body issues. I just want to bring a comb and try to brush the grass over a little to better hide the dirt "bald spot". That way the grass can feel better about itself. I know if I had a toupe that had coverage like this, I wouldn't feel too good. I'm just trying to help the environment after all. If we're going to kill the planet, at least let it look nice as we do it!

I would love to meet the person who thought it would be a good move. Now I've been to many cities in this country and have yet to see something as silly as the "grass toupe", so I am chalking this up to yet another jackass D.C. thing. I've got this mental imagery of a bunch of politicians discussing how they only have enough money to sod a small portion of the open space in D.C....and then some wise public official has the brainchild that rather than sod a small portion of the park space, they could just sod all the park space with a little bit of grass! WOW!

If you are a botanist or any other kind of "ist" that likes to work with trees or grass and this is some kind of cutting edge technology, please let me know and I will kindly retract my rant. But, living in D.C. for nearly a year now it's easy to see that chances are this wasn't the smartest thing people could have done.

Well that does it for my latest "D.C. is Lame Because..." post. Until the next time I find something retarded in this city (which shouldn't be too long), farewell!

I couldn't have said it better...

Writer Michael Scherer's take on the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner. He nailed D.C. residents to the proverbial "T". Please take a moment to read how lame the people of this city are:

"The Coolest D.C. Party is Still Lame"

Open-Mouth Chewers

Some people fear that when they go to Hell (and I probably will), they will face a world of fire and brimstone. A place where demons will poke and prod at your flesh as you writhe in pain as Satan himself laughs at your misfortune.

I could only hope for such a fate, for I know mine will be much worse.

I fully expect my own personal hell to be populated by open-mouth chewers constantly enjoying a juicy meal right next to me for all eternity.

Where do these people come from? Who taught them how to eat? I once knew this girl...let's call her "Jenn L.". She was pleasant enough (in very small doses), but she really showed her white trash roots at lunch time. I can't describe to you the complete lack of attention she paid to her eating habits. I think I can only relate her chowing down on a sandwich to the T-Rex in "Jurassic Park" eating the lawyer: Just a whole lot of wide bites, lip smacking, and bits of food in her teeth.

I mean, by pure disgust at hearing herself chew you would think she would have self-corrected. Typically when a person performs an action wherein others stare at them in utter disbelief and disgust, that person tends to halt whatever it was they were doing. But no! No matter how incredulously I stare at her as she ruminates like a cow out to pasture, no matter how many blatant hints I drop, no matter how many times I dry heave in disgust, she does not get the hint. To her, this is all normal.

My solution: Death Squads. Just eradicate these people off the face of the Earth.

Brutal? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely.

Once we have rid the world of open-mouth chewers, it will be time to move onto the "Public Nose-Pickers". We'll save that for another blog...

Fuckin' D.C. (Had to put it in for good measure!)

A Cliche Revisement

I'm sure we've all heard the cliche, "It's like riding a bicycle". This phrase generally refers to an action that can be easily recalled with little difficulty or effort.

I am formally filing my protest with this terminology.

I bought a bike today. It's part of my "Let's get healthy and save some cash on Metro costs at the same time" movement I am in now. Back in the 'Good Ol' Days', I rode a bike everywhere for miles on miles. I was quite spry and nimble on it too. Quite the bikerider. In my head I heard that fateful cliche ringing outloud..."It's like riding a bicycle"... Hearkening back to my youth, I felt I would be able to leap onto the bike and take off down the road as if 10 years had gone by in an instant.

I was wrong.

I rode for a block and nearly killed myself. Another block, another near-death experience. Luckily by this point in time I had made it to my apartment and could end the awkwardness that was my first attempt at riding a bike again. Therefore, I am formally protesting the use of the cliche "It's like riding a bike" on a strong argument that it's FUCKING HARD!

Concurrently I am putting aside my macho bullshit ego and ordering a bike helmet. But it's gonna be blood red with flames or something cool like that!