Sign on the Metro reads:
-Come to this once-a-decade stamp show to see the world's greatest rarities! Tens of millions of dollars worth of stamps and envelopes!
-Washington Convention Center
I'm not entirely surprised this event happens only once a decade. Seriously, how much interest can be drummed up for postage over 10 years?
And what does a postal exhibition really do, anyway? Who gets that excited over licking paper? (LSD users are not encouraged to answer)
Moreover, who gets excited over stamps that were never used to do what they were originally designed for? They just sit there. It's like going to a toilet convention and marveling over bowls that were never flushed (ew).
And just what are these rarities of the stamp world??? (answer: the people who find this stuff interesting)
And tens of millions of dollars worth of unused stamps?!? WTF?!!!? The USPS made out like bandits on that one. It's a convention that celebrates all of the paid-for-but-not-delivered services of the postal system.
Do we pay for a meal and walk out before it's arrived? NO. Do we pay for a concert and leave before the opening number? NO.
The stamp must be used if it is bought. Lick it and stick it people.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
My pal Liz
Ah Liz ... good friend and companion: she's patient enough to put up with my bullshit, listens to me ramble about gay bars and broccoli, and accompanies me on the strangest adventures in the District. These are some of our stories for the spring semester of 2006:
Sex in Chinatown (see earlier blog): 2 men, high or drunk, decided to get it on in our presence at 2 p.m. on a rainy Saturday afternoon in the middle of the street. Liz wanted to call the police, I wanted my digital camera.
Bathroom hunting: Originally hunting for a theatre with empty seats to see Brokeback Mountain (try Virginia - all the seats were filled at Dupont Circle [keep it clean!]), our quest took us to the Van Ness metro stop where apparently there are no public toilets (15 min. walk only led us to a renovation-in-progress Subway). Thank god for Burger King. And then we ended up at the Eagle, realizing that boys really do wear chaps at leather bars, and certainly not wanting to use their bathroom.
KrispyKreme: Who says I dont get lucky (mind the jokes) ??? Check out the KK (watch those acronyms) on Dupont Circle at closing time you might score big (well, either there or down at Omega) with a dozen free donuts that would have otherwise ended up with the trash (as in the "garbage", not those at Omega).
Free Toast: Some extremely friendly youngsters decided to bust out 4 toasters and a waffle maker to pass out free toast (butter, jam, syrup included) to the drunken parade of post-bar crawlers on the corner of U and 17th one night. They had glittery signs held by cute little ladies peddling their offerings and yelling "FREE TOAST!!!" (rather like a carwash, yet sadly without the suds and studs) to passerbys and extremely thankful cabbies.
And she's leaving me for 4 months next Thursday ... who will come with me to JRs, for crying out loud?!?
Sex in Chinatown (see earlier blog): 2 men, high or drunk, decided to get it on in our presence at 2 p.m. on a rainy Saturday afternoon in the middle of the street. Liz wanted to call the police, I wanted my digital camera.
Bathroom hunting: Originally hunting for a theatre with empty seats to see Brokeback Mountain (try Virginia - all the seats were filled at Dupont Circle [keep it clean!]), our quest took us to the Van Ness metro stop where apparently there are no public toilets (15 min. walk only led us to a renovation-in-progress Subway). Thank god for Burger King. And then we ended up at the Eagle, realizing that boys really do wear chaps at leather bars, and certainly not wanting to use their bathroom.
KrispyKreme: Who says I dont get lucky (mind the jokes) ??? Check out the KK (watch those acronyms) on Dupont Circle at closing time you might score big (well, either there or down at Omega) with a dozen free donuts that would have otherwise ended up with the trash (as in the "garbage", not those at Omega).
Free Toast: Some extremely friendly youngsters decided to bust out 4 toasters and a waffle maker to pass out free toast (butter, jam, syrup included) to the drunken parade of post-bar crawlers on the corner of U and 17th one night. They had glittery signs held by cute little ladies peddling their offerings and yelling "FREE TOAST!!!" (rather like a carwash, yet sadly without the suds and studs) to passerbys and extremely thankful cabbies.
And she's leaving me for 4 months next Thursday ... who will come with me to JRs, for crying out loud?!?
Metro sightings
Metro sightings in the past few weeks:
-A sign indicating 1 in 4 suffers from a mental illness, to which I realize that there are more people on the Metro with IPODs then there are those with mental illnesses.
-A man dressed entirely in pink: pink dress, pink pearls, and pink high-tops (not high heels ... really, high-tops). And not very convincing as a woman.
-A man in complete tribal garb, with clattering shark-tooth necklaces and a rainstick.
-A bride and groom, dressed for the aisle ("Do you take ... the red line?" ... "I do" ...)
-A man knitting ... what?
-A construction worker with a hardhat that had "Bruce Willis" printed on it.
-A woman who crossed herself immediately upon entrance to the carriage (can you blame her?).
-A sign indicating 1 in 4 suffers from a mental illness, to which I realize that there are more people on the Metro with IPODs then there are those with mental illnesses.
-A man dressed entirely in pink: pink dress, pink pearls, and pink high-tops (not high heels ... really, high-tops). And not very convincing as a woman.
-A man in complete tribal garb, with clattering shark-tooth necklaces and a rainstick.
-A bride and groom, dressed for the aisle ("Do you take ... the red line?" ... "I do" ...)
-A man knitting ... what?
-A construction worker with a hardhat that had "Bruce Willis" printed on it.
-A woman who crossed herself immediately upon entrance to the carriage (can you blame her?).
Sound bites
I have the unique opportunity of studying at a deaf school. Gallaudet University is a completely different world; and sometimes it's really easy to lose yourself in it. Going off campus you are suddenly reminded of just how many hearing people there are beyond the cozy gates, how loud it all is, and how chaotic and penetrating sound can be. But at Gallaudet you can hide from the fury, the pace and the rush.
But there is the odd occasion on campus where sound does disturb the tranquility of silence ...
Take, for instance, my suite in the dorms. There are three bedrooms adjoined by a hallway with a shared bathroom. All of my suitemates are deaf, which conveniently allows me to blast Wicked at 7.00a.m. every morning and sing obnoxiously at the top of my lungs.
The drawback is my one suitemate that does not remember how sound can travel underneath doorways from the bathroom to my bedroom.
Routinely, every night while I am studying, my precious suitemate decides that it is time for his cleansing ritual. To most, this means a shower. But for you boys out there who don't like to make a mess and do laundry (you know who you are!), a cleansing ritual can mean a truly Herbal Essence experience.
How can one be expected to study while he hears a grown man groan and giggle to the repetitious beat of "cleansing"?
I'd love to bang on the door and yell "Keep it down!!!", although he would not hear me and I doubt that at that point he would be able to oblige ...
But there is the odd occasion on campus where sound does disturb the tranquility of silence ...
Take, for instance, my suite in the dorms. There are three bedrooms adjoined by a hallway with a shared bathroom. All of my suitemates are deaf, which conveniently allows me to blast Wicked at 7.00a.m. every morning and sing obnoxiously at the top of my lungs.
The drawback is my one suitemate that does not remember how sound can travel underneath doorways from the bathroom to my bedroom.
Routinely, every night while I am studying, my precious suitemate decides that it is time for his cleansing ritual. To most, this means a shower. But for you boys out there who don't like to make a mess and do laundry (you know who you are!), a cleansing ritual can mean a truly Herbal Essence experience.
How can one be expected to study while he hears a grown man groan and giggle to the repetitious beat of "cleansing"?
I'd love to bang on the door and yell "Keep it down!!!", although he would not hear me and I doubt that at that point he would be able to oblige ...
Friday, April 21, 2006
grande macchiatotally BS
"Starbucks is committed to reducing our environmental impact through increased use of recycled post-consumer materials. Help us help the planet." - Starbucks cup
Let me offer you my personal adaptation and the true meaning behind this message:
"Starbucks is committed to trying to win our customer's sympathy by hypocritically proclaiming our compassion for Mother Earth by pretending to reduce our environmental impact by having drive-thru windows where exhaust fumes of impatient SUV-driving soccer moms further deplete our ozone layer and through increased but not complete use of recycled post-consumer materials (ew, this sounds gross). Help us help the planet by serving all iced drinks in plastic containers and not offering recycling bins at any of our locations." -- Starbucks cup.
But there's probably not enough room on the cup to print all of that. Plus, let's conserve the ink; who knows, future generations may be without.
Let me offer you my personal adaptation and the true meaning behind this message:
"Starbucks is committed to trying to win our customer's sympathy by hypocritically proclaiming our compassion for Mother Earth by pretending to reduce our environmental impact by having drive-thru windows where exhaust fumes of impatient SUV-driving soccer moms further deplete our ozone layer and through increased but not complete use of recycled post-consumer materials (ew, this sounds gross). Help us help the planet by serving all iced drinks in plastic containers and not offering recycling bins at any of our locations." -- Starbucks cup.
But there's probably not enough room on the cup to print all of that. Plus, let's conserve the ink; who knows, future generations may be without.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Clipart
Let's assume that the pictures available in Microsofts online ClipArt files are a representative sample of what our society values. Using a one-word search of the entire ClipArt database, lets see what we truly hold near and dear to our hearts (or FreeCell):
Money = 1200+
Education = 1200+
Clothing = 1200+
Food = 1200+
Family = 1128
Love = 792
Alcohol = 312
Success = 264
Exercise = 252
Peace = 92
Joy = 48
Hope = 10
Imagination = 6
Charity = 6
Emotion = 3
Faith = 3
David = 1 (woohoo!!!)
Money = 1200+
Education = 1200+
Clothing = 1200+
Food = 1200+
Family = 1128
Love = 792
Alcohol = 312
Success = 264
Exercise = 252
Peace = 92
Joy = 48
Hope = 10
Imagination = 6
Charity = 6
Emotion = 3
Faith = 3
David = 1 (woohoo!!!)
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Matchbox $20
Matchbox is a pleasant restaurant in Chinatown that serves anything but Chinese food -- burgers and pizza are the main to-dos of the menu, which I think is a sort of slap in the face to the strict reverence to Eastern design, cuisine, and language that all of ChinaBlock (... er, Chinatown) adheres to.
Nevertheless, Matchbox churns out decent fare for a decent fare. Twenty greenbacks will get you 2 mini-hamburgers (dolled up wittingly as appetizers so the price raises 50%), paper-thin french-fries (or were they onions? ... I really don't know, but they were greasier than a sweaty construction worker so I dont mind ... the worker, that is), and a thin-crust Italian-style 9-inch delightful pizza.
Now, I like a good pizza better than my own mother (can I get a whoop whoop? ... guys ... guys ... where'd everyone go?). So, I've been around the block a couple of times whoring myself out to various Italian pizzerias and allowing them to be the Sirens to my Odysseus (and yes, I did have to check the spelling of Odysseus).
It's been almost one year since I got back from Italy, and Matchbox was the first place to challenge my thinking that America couldn't pull off a proper Roman-style pizza unless it ordered it FedEx (those interested in attending their own pizza-making course should check out: http://www.il-pizzaiolo.it/school.html).
And there I was, wine-less but content, folding my pizza instinctively and ramming it down my face to the sounds of laughter, the chatter of good company, and a temperate calm in the middle of a bustling non-stop city. For a moment, I wondered if I had ever left.
Has it only been a year?
Nevertheless, Matchbox churns out decent fare for a decent fare. Twenty greenbacks will get you 2 mini-hamburgers (dolled up wittingly as appetizers so the price raises 50%), paper-thin french-fries (or were they onions? ... I really don't know, but they were greasier than a sweaty construction worker so I dont mind ... the worker, that is), and a thin-crust Italian-style 9-inch delightful pizza.
Now, I like a good pizza better than my own mother (can I get a whoop whoop? ... guys ... guys ... where'd everyone go?). So, I've been around the block a couple of times whoring myself out to various Italian pizzerias and allowing them to be the Sirens to my Odysseus (and yes, I did have to check the spelling of Odysseus).
It's been almost one year since I got back from Italy, and Matchbox was the first place to challenge my thinking that America couldn't pull off a proper Roman-style pizza unless it ordered it FedEx (those interested in attending their own pizza-making course should check out: http://www.il-pizzaiolo.it/school.html).
And there I was, wine-less but content, folding my pizza instinctively and ramming it down my face to the sounds of laughter, the chatter of good company, and a temperate calm in the middle of a bustling non-stop city. For a moment, I wondered if I had ever left.
Has it only been a year?
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