Thursday, May 7, 2009

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.

17 comments:

Beach Bum said...

My mom used to call me "melted butter" as a kid, because I cry so much.

Yep, movies, TV shows, books... Even the other day when my boyfriend said something terribly mushy that should have made me smile, I burst into tears. Because I was happy. WTF, really.

Now to Lauriol Plaza, the place is pretty good (definitely edible), but I wouldn't call the best. The food is just like Alero, IMO, except trendier.

Scotus said...

I always thought of myself more as a DC nipple-twister than a junk-puncher, but I appreciate the compliment. Praise from Caesar, indeed.

Marissa said...

beach bum: We are one and the same! I used to cry about going to summer camp...when I was a teenager.

scotus: Nipple-twister? Nice. Nipple-twisting and junk-punching minds must think alike. I noticed we both respectively nipple-twisted and junk-punched DC, or Marion Barry, rather, for his commentary and action re: the DC gay marriage bill. Kudos!

LiLu said...

Have you read "Where the Red Fern Grows"?

I cried for a WEEK. I kid you not.

And how on earth did Lauriol win over Rosa? Rosa's expensive as hell, but at least the food's dece.

Scotus said...

Junk-Puncher and Nipple-Twister! We can be superheroes. (Or villains, if that's less work.)

JFo said...

You saved your street cred with the last third of your post. Agree that "Lauriol" and "best" should not be used in the same sentence, but it can still be fun. Consider it the lowered expectations version of a tex-mex place.

Ben (The Tiger) said...

Worst comes to worst, there are the chain restaurants... Chevys can do decent Tex-Mex fish tacos, I believe... (Not great, but decent!) And what about Rio Grande? Have they disappeared?

Patty Duke said...

I think we may be the ying and the
yang of crying. Where you cry at the drop of a hat I hrdly ever cry. i envy you for being able to to do that.

Finding good Tex-Mex in the DC area is always going to be a crap shoot. Because of the hybrid(sp?) nature of the cuisine, every chef has his own idea of what Tex Mex is. Also DC doesn't have a large enough Mexican population to support authentic Mexican restaurants where you can good Mexican food. IMO

nate said...

Don't feel bad, I well up at Pedigree commercials for christ's sake, and I'm barely even human.

FoggyDew said...

Allow me to suggest two words when it comes to fish tacos: Cantina Marina.

Ditto LiLu, WtRFG made me cry like a 10-year-old boy at a priest convention.

Marissa said...

lilu: Oh man. Old Dan and Little Anne...I think that is one of the reasons why I fear cats.

scotus: I don't know. Superheroes can more or less sit around in their headquarters...villains have to be out committing crimes and such. Also, I like the idea of superpowers.

jfo: It's because I have no real life street cred.

ben: Yeah. Nothing's ever going to come close to real Mexican road-side taco stands. Without swine flu salsa.

patty: It is a good emotional release, I suppose. Good thing I don't wear a lot of eye make-up.

nate: Cute dogs...tears of joy.

foggydew: Duly noted. Will have to try it out.

Lindsay said...

Lauriol Plaza is horrible. I want to cry whenever my friends suggest that we go there.

For good tacos, try Taqueria Nacionale near Union Station.

Ben (The Tiger) said...

Marissa --

I actually saw a place out on Columbia Pike not far from the Arlington Drafthouse that had a "roadside taco-stand" look to it. (Complete with sad-looking Mexican family hanging out in the small seating area.)

Shall I do a field trip next week and report back?

Boomhauer said...

And to think I thought you were so tough that spent your days quaffing the salty tears of small children while skinning puppies to make Ushankas. How wrong I am...O decent fish tacos, fish tacos! Wherefore art thou, decent fish tacos!?I do occasionally enjoy a Haydees Tilapia taco, even though that's a little far removed from what you want.

Peter said...

I know now why you cry - but it is something I can never do.

Marissa said...

lindsay: That sounds authentic. I shall give it a shot.

ben: Looking forward to the run-down.

boomhauer: You're confusing me with my old helper tortoise, Vladimir. He was a cruel bastard. But whipped up on hell of an ushenka once from a couple of husky pups. Understandably, we had to part ways, you know, with my love of the Iditarod and all.

peter: Whatever, Peter, I know you have it in you to invest in Sick Bitches Sandwiches and Shizzles Smooth Flow Juice.

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