Oh boy! Just when you thought DC couldn't get more f*cked up (after all, most of the population thinks dognapping is pretty great), turns out there's a dude wandering around town kicking ladies in the shins! Splendid!
According to the woman who got kicked, "Jeannie," it's this man, but without the hobo-esque (or Jesus-like?) facial hair:
I yanked this photo from another blog called Holla Back DC that someone linked to on Prince of Petworth, where this story first broke. As always, The Anti DC is third to know. Or fourth. Or last. Whatever.
I've got more important things to do over here. Like watch men's tennis and read The Onion. I guess maybe I'm sexist because I really don't like women's tennis and I laughed for hours over that Onion article.
This led to several hours of self-analysis. Can a woman be sexist against her own kind? Maybe. I mean, I also hate The View. And I don't much care for Lifetime. On the other hand, I love to bake. And I love The Tyra Banks Show. Needless, to say I was very confused -- so confused, in fact, that I vowed never to engage in any form of self-introspection again.
Instead, I decided to go buy a pineapple. And no, that's not an exciting euphemism for anything. I really mean, I got on my bicycle and went to the grocers to buy a pineapple. I lead a very exciting life.
After procuring the ripest, most delicious smelling pineapple in the bunch, I returned to my bike, unlocked it, shoved my wad of keys in my back pocket and rode off into the sunset. And by "sunset" I mean "soul-killing humidity." The ride was going all right, but the whole time I was hoping not to get kicked. So when a fellow cyclist passed me and my pineapple and said, "Your keys are falling out of your pocket," I nearly weaved those keys between my knuckles in an effort to defend my shins. Then something weird happened. While reaching for my makeshift brass knuckles, I noticed that my keys really were readying to fall out of my pocket! This wasn't a man trying to kick me! This was a man trying to help me! Moreover, he had a tennis racket! No wonder I prefer men's tennis to women's!
I guess I'm not sexist, after all!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some dishes to wash, laundry to fold and a crazy man to go hunt down and kick.
Happy Fourth of July!