boo hoo

If anyone is bored enough at work (or life, in my case) to spend a whole lot of time online, you've probably heard of a little bloggy phenomenon known as TMI Thursday. Started by DC blogger extraordinaire LiLu over at Live It Love It earlier this year, bloggers around the country (and maybe even abroad) have taken to the concept, which invites e-people to overshare their most tumultuous and/or embarrassing moments.

Now, I've never participated because, really, stories such as those about incontinence aren't so uncommon that they'd warrant a whole blog post over here. In fact, my helper horse Sven just shat through his giant horse diaper as I typed that sentence. And I'm peeing right now. It's an everyday thing, really.

And so as I rack my brain in order to whore myself out to catch this cresting TMI wave, I feel forced to go in a different direction -- one without bodily functions, awkward sexual encounters or tampons. Nope. For this possibly one and only edition of TMI Thursday on The Anti DC, I bring to you a story of sentimentality and emotion. Now, that's TMI.

Here goes: I'm a sensitive person. Underneath all the circuitry and wires (as well as my sweatervests and tight pants), I tend to cry like a baby at the drop of a hat. In fact, I'm crying right now just for using two cliches in one sentence.

I cry after almost every episode of Grey's Anatomy (yes, I watch that).

I cry during nearly every movie that even tries to pull at my heartstrings heartwires. Into the Wild? Tears. Terminator 2? Puddles of tears. Zoolander? Pass the Kleenex®. When Zoolander and Hansel finally team up against Mugatu, I can't help but get a bit choked up. Male models coming together to fight evil...sigh.

I cry while reading certain books, such as The Road by Cormac McCarthy. I cry when listening to certain songs written by Phil Collins called "In the Air Tonight," even if sung by The Chipmunks. Hell, I've even been known to cry for no reason at all. Perhaps I've simply just had something stuck in my eye for the past 29 years.

Or maybe I'm just melodramatic. Whatever it is, it can be a bit ridiculous, especially if I start getting choked up in public, although that's still better than simply getting choked in public, unless, of course, you're into that sort of thing...creep.

Anyway, the point is, I'm a big old sap. I donate what I can to charities on the regular. I give money to beggars. I don't even hate children anymore, although I'm still scared of them. I help people in wheelchairs reach for stuff on the top shelf. I help old people cross the street. And most TMI-y of all, I suppose, I'm not a total bitch, at least in real life.

Online, however, is another story. I am nothing short of an e-asshole. In fact, I might even be the biggest e-asshole you know. But I do it for a good cause. DC needs its junk punched every now and again (or daily) and no one punches DC's junk better than me.*

Which brings me to my inspiration for writing this post. This made me cry. The fact that Lauriol Plaza is apparently "the best" Washington, DC, can do as far as getting a decent taco is incredibly depressing. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've been there to judge for myself, so like most things I rant about, I possess no firsthand knowledge that would allow me a legitimate opinion, but I've heard things -- things that have kept me away. Basically, I've heard from several reliable sources that it's terrible. Horrible, in fact; hardly even worthy of the adjective "edible," let alone "best." Also, whenever I ride by that place after selling butt plugs to old men, the crowd always looks so douchey, although in DC that's pretty much a given, so it's hard to hold it against Lauriol specifically. But still.

O decent fish tacos, fish tacos! Wherefore art thou, decent fish tacos!?

There's not enough handkerchiefs (or diapers! or tampons!) in the world to sop up these tears...

*Actually, I'm not the only one that mocks DC on the regular so effectively. The DC Universe does its fair share of excellent DC junk-punches, as well.