bullets don't look like croissants...

Sad, terrifying, yet not really that surprising news broke yesterday when I saw DCist editor Aaron Morrissey tweet:

As it turns out, @amorrissey was right. There was a shooting, which was followed by a related massive car accident on U St., NW, where one person died. And as if that weren't enough to offend those of us who prefer common decency to senseless violence and idiocy, this whole thing happened during a funeral procession and, apparently, because of the funeral procession. Indeed, just when we thought the transient dipsters who make up 47 percent of this city had tight-pantsed all the gang violence out of NW, the "1-7 crew" and its enemies decided to let everyone know they hadn't.

The man who died (or am I now old enough to call him a kid?) was 21-year-old Jamal Coates, who, according to Ward 1 YouTube darling and community organizer Bryan Weaver, was just about to turn his life around. That is, Mr. Coates was in the process of leaving his thug life behind and finding a less violent path. And while it's easy to lionize the deceased, in this case it seems at least kind of true. Weaver says Coates recently worked to get his GED, took on some internships with DC's Parks and Recreation (now that's selfless) and even went to Guatemala to teach kids how to play basketball.

But not anymore. Now he's dead and the life of another kid, 21-year-old Brandon Miller, is completely ruined, as he's just been arrested and charged with the first degree murder of Coates.

I'm not even sure where to go with this. This is supposed to be a humor blog, but the only thing funny about this is that the story broke on Twitter, the same place where I learned cats look like croissants.



HAHAHAHAHA! OMG! Cats really DO look like croissants! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*sigh*

What were we talking about again?

Oh yeah, someone died in a fire. Wait, what? Someone else died a horribly violent death yesterday?!? Yes, and just one Metro stop and a few blocks away from the shooting incident.

Great. Now, this blog is really in a proverbial pickle. Two horrible incidents in less than 24 hours and only one video about cats looking like croissants? What the f*ck do we do now?! HELP ME OUT, TWITTER!

NOT HELPING, INTERNET! Which means, I think I have to turn to what I fear most to feel better. Going outside. Here's to hoping everyone has a bullet-free, fire-free, and chemical-burn free rest of the day; may we all see cats looking like croissants instead.

broverkill...?

During my "break" from DC, I probably lost about 75 percent of my readership, which means instead of four readers, I now have one. Although, I guess that is still an assumption. Perhaps this lone holdout also doesn't read, but instead spends his time searching for places for me to live on Craigslist. Scratch that. I mean he spends his time searching for ridiculous places for me to live on Craigslist. Last week, before I revealed that I was back and had managed to already move into and predictably lock myself out of Fort Kickass, he forwarded me this. I've been sitting on it because, well, I think you'll see why after you look at it. It's a bit of a mindf*ck.


And because I'm told by those who can read that it's impossible to read the words from that screenshot, here they are. Make sure whatever helper animal you're using doesn't have any kibble or bits in its mouth, because it just might gag:

$770 1 Bedroom in a 6Br, 3 story Bro Palace- America (Mt. Pleasant)

WARNING: If you are not a complete Brohemouth, do not read this ad. The awesome of this house will make your face melt like Raiders of the Lost Ark.

We've had this Temple to Broseidon under our control since W. went Ameri-bro and Mission Accomplished the shit out of Iraq and it has seen some of the greatest bros of the last decade pass through its hallowed halls: 2 direct descendants of the A-Team, they guy who came up with Under Armour's "We must protect this house" campaign, Nicholas Cage, and a surfer bro (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-5F_7DwPpo) that made Keanu Reeves in Point Break look like Lionel Richie. After coming to America to learn the ways of the brah, our recent international brotege (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlWNg4k0MLY) has flown by the seat of his pants back Down Under, most likely to bang as many foreign chicks as possible. We're looking for a bro of epic broportions, talent and exploits to fill his spot in the brahacracy.

About the house itself:
• The house, as any true Brotel should, has its own brah-niker: Sparta, because what's more brah than being the most cock diesel fighters of all the ancient world? Slaying mad bitches that’s what, which were pretty sure the Spartans did too. if these guys were around today they'd wear Affliction Tees for sure bro
• Kitchen equipped with multiple blenders for protein shakes
• if you need to know more, then you’re no bro, and your face will start melting any minute now

The bros in this house like to party hard and bang chicks even harder. If you hate China and Russia winning any Olympic medal and shed a bro-tear when Phelps won his 8th gold medal, join the club. However, only real Teddy Brosevelts know the true tragedy was that the IOC (also known as Vichy France) didn’t let Phelps compete in every event.

Moving on, owning some container capable of holding more than 4 beers at once is an absolute requirement. Having recently banged a chick born in the 90's is a plus. If it was doggy and you didn't call her ever again…BRO-FIVE!

If you think you're brah enough to enter the kingdom of brah, respond to this ad. Our response will either come in the form of an email or by means of bald eagle courier. RamBros love America.

Brahsta La Vista.

Bro. My. Gawd. While I can understand why people refuse to keep up with fashion trends here (90 percent of this city's population is composed of disheveled tools), I cannot understand why DC's douchebags can't keep up with douche trends (90 PERCENT OF THIS CITY'S POPULATION IS COMPOSED OF DISHEVELED TOOLS!). I mean, COME ON! If we're going to be on the cutting edge of anything, being a tool should really be high up there. Like, we should be telling Brody Jenner what slang to use, not the other way around, and definitely not three years later. I'm guessing while Mr. Jenner was perfecting his bronunciation, these tools were still debating which band was cooler: Limp Bizkit or Crazy Town (um, don't pretend like you've never heard their one hit blunder).

Anysugarbaby, before I go ahead and judge the brahsiers who wrote the above ad, I'm going to postulate the theory that perhaps they're just joking. Maybe they're just f*cking with me like the way People magazine did in 1992 when it named its sexiest man alive:


Nick Nolte?! Really?! Did the editors see the picture? Were they still coming off their coke benders from the '80s? Because that is a brotastrophy of epic broportions. (What's worse? He also won a Golden Globe that year for The Prince of Tides. *shudder*)

So yeah, that happened. (I'll give you a moment to really let that sink in.)

Seriously. Jesuz. We live in a world where Nick Nolte was considered the sexiest man alive. *dry heave*

But the fact that Nick Nolte, at one point, was not only considered attractive, but THE SEXIEST MAN ALIVE (I will never come to terms with that), we cannot control. What we can control, though, is the world directly around us today and I am thankful to be living in (and subsequently locking myself out of) Fort Kickass opposed to DC's very own "Sparta," where I'm sure the bros look more like Nick Nolte than Gerard Butler.


Now if only I can swing an invite to this Bro Palace for a dinner party sometime so I can say, "Tonight, we dine in hell!" and truly mean it. That, e-friends is my one and bronly dream.

Bros, I'll be waiting for your Evite.

dear commuters and your cars

Suck it. I don't mean to be crass here (OK, I do), but I can't help myself after reading this article from Saturday's Washington Post, in which dumbass commuters complain about the city of DC finally trying to make its streets more pedestrian and bike-friendly for -- wait for it -- THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE HERE.

The District is escalating what some suburban commuters are calling its war against workers who drive into the city. The city has changed parts of Constitution Avenue NE from a reversible commuter artery back to a quiet side street and is considering removing the reversible lane on 16th Street NW, a key commuting route from Montgomery County.

That idea sounds awesome. Listen, I live on 16th Street. It's loud. Sure, the noise is sometimes attributable to the occasional shout/firework/gun shot (not necessarily all at the same time), but most of the time it's from traffic. Trust me, when you live a 15-minute bike ride from work, suffer from a slight case of insomnia and don't need to be in the office until 9 a.m. 10 a.m., it sucks to be awoken by a trillion suburbanites injecting themselves into the city to get to their sh*tty jobs at 7 a.m. 6 a.m. by utilizing that reversible lane on 16th Street.

The District is moving toward becoming "the most anti-car city in the country," said John Townsend, a spokesman for AAA Mid-Atlantic. "They see commuters as the enemy."

While I think commuting is a big waste of time personally (I'd rather pay more for the luxury of being able to walk/bike anywhere I need to go than pay less and live in, say, Dale City), I don't see commuters as the enemy, per se. Their cars -- perhaps. But commuters themselves? Not if they're doing what most people do in the rest of the world, such as riding the damn commuter trains THAT WERE CONSTRUCTED ESPECIALLY FOR THEM with the other plebes.

And yes, I just called you all plebes. I'm a plebe. You're a plebe. Everyone's a plebe-plebe. Get over it. I don't care whether you drive a broke-down hatchback or a Bentley. If you're driving yourself in a motor vehicle and not commuting via helicopter, hovercraft or some other legitimately cool, non-traditional mode of transportation, you're a plebe and you need to learn to just deal with it. And therein lies the problem.

It seems so many of the people who commute via personal motor vehicle think they're entitled to drive like assholes on my roads. I realize I don't literally own 16th Street, but metaphorically, I do. I live here. You don't. I should be able to ride my damn bike up and down that bitch as much as I want to without worrying about some SUV with Maryland plates honking like an asshole while creeping up dangerously close to my sweet ass when I'm as far to the right as I can possibly get without physically peddling in the gutter and subsequently curbing myself. Not tight.

Improving pedestrian safety is a priority for the city. The District has higher pedestrian death rates than New York, Boston, Seattle, Chicago and Los Angeles, with 2.7 deaths per 100,000 people, according to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. Pedestrian injuries rose from 586 in 2000 to 725 in 2006. District officials said the city's broad avenues create wide expanses of asphalt that make it difficult or intimidating for pedestrians to cross.

Seriously. You, automobile commuter, need to step off ma'jock. Or get a job in Maryland. But let me ride dirty in peace on a road that doesn't double as a major highway every weekday at dawn and on one that doesn't cause me to fear for my slightly precious life while I'm out and about enjoying all the sites, establishments and violent crime that my inner city neighborhood has to offer.

Part of the city's new pedestrian plan would eliminate the reversible middle lane on 16th Street NW through Mount Pleasant and Columbia Heights, pedestrian-heavy sections of the city. The city wants to turn the lane into a landscaped island that would serve as a refuge for pedestrians trying to cross the street.

Thank you, I would love a landscaped island. After failing in so many uniquely retarded ways, DC is finally doing something right, so please, you, your car and your silly "taxation with representation," shut the f*ck up.

U.S. Rep. James P. Moran Jr. (D-Va.) said the city should be careful not to chase people away. Like the District, Old Town Alexandria would be a nicer place without all the cars, he said. But there is an economic component to be considered, he said, and people in cars represent customers for restaurants and shops.

"Because of the limitations of our rail and bus system, there are an awful lot of suburbanites who don't have access but are willing to spend lots of money in the District," Moran said. "They are dependent on suburban spending for their tax base."

He added: "DC could wind up as an island isolating themselves with these policies. Don't pray too hard for fear that all your prayers will be answered."

Uh-huh, right...The next time I see a rush of suburbanites trying to kick it at Burritos Fast or Don Juan's, maybe I'll indulge Moran in his opinion that it's self-important douches in SUVs from Maryland and Virginia who keep this city afloat. Until that day, however, I'm forced to just keep it real and end this exactly as I started it: Suck it. Or better yet, I'm going to organize a mass Segway tour around Old Town Alexandria. With babies. In double-wide strollers. Reciprocity is a bitch!

:)

peanut butter jelly time

There is some bizarre sh*t going down on the streets of DC. Although if you think about it, that's not really anything new. I mean, last fall was the season of the wayward Band-Aids (gnarly, I know), which I thought for sure would be the strangest collection of street debris I'd see. However, today on my walk home from the office I noticed something else, something even more inexplicable -- a string of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I was literally following a bread-crumb trail home, as I walked over, around and, unfortunately in one case, on five PB&J on white bread sandwiches. I spotted the first one on Connecticut Ave. toward Van Ness, the second on Connecticut near Cleveland Park, two more on Klingle passing over Rock Creek Park and at last (at least that I saw) one on Park Road heading into Mt. Pleasant.

While squished sandwiches are definitely a step up from used bandages (yeah, it never stops being gnarly), it strikes me as slightly more strange. I mean, who would discard so many simple yet tasty sandwiches? Certainly, this couldn't have been an accident. No one is that careless to drop not one, but five scrumptious sandwiches. So, what is it? What kind of beast would just throw five sandwiches out on the street like...like, well, Band-Aids?!

Terrorists. They hate freedom and delicious sandwiches. Really, it's the only logical conclusion.

Yeah, I got nothin'! Have a lovely weekend, e-friends. I'm going to make a sandwich.

where there's smoke, there's hitchhiking

While walking home from the salaried job Wednesday evening, I came across a crime scene. I approached the yellow police tape after stopping by Target to pick up a few items (twice in one week!) and asked what happened. The policeman guarding the scene didn't say much besides telling me that, my 12-pack of toilet paper and laundry soap were to go nowhere.

"How long will the wait be?" I asked.

"As long as it takes," he replied.

Well, at least if I needed to take a whiz, I was well prepared. (Yeah, I totally just said that.)

So, I waited. As others approached, though, I began to find out what was going on. Apparently, someone got shot in the face on a bus in broad daylight. Not tight. However, when I tried to research crimes going on in Columbia Heights around 5 p.m. on March 12, I couldn't find anything about a shooting...so I don't know how accurate this is. Regardless, though, it was nice of the cop to just let us think someone got shot in the face on a bus in broad daylight. Ace work, buddy!

Anyway, thinking that would be my sole encounter with police tape this week, I went home, made a toilet paper nest and curled up for a nap. (Um, just kidding about that toilet paper nest...or am I?! I got the quilted!)

But, as with most things in life, I would soon find out I was wrong.

My Thursday morning started at 4 a.m. when a slew of sirens disturbed my sweet, sweet slumber (in that toilet-paper nest). And while I hear sirens quite often in my head due to living on one of Washington's main streets, something about these sirens was different. Mainly, they didn't stop. So, I peeked out my window. There were hoses and a couple of firetrucks strewn about the street.

"Is my building on fire?" I thought. But having not seen a flood of people on the street, I decided it probably wasn't and went back to bed. Sleep first, safety second.

Luckily for me, I was right. It wasn't my building that hosted the zillion-alarm fire, but a building about 2 blocks away*, which is where I ran into the second coming of the yellow police tape.

"I guess I won't be taking the bus today," I thought, as I began to walk.

When I finally reached the edge of Rock Creek Park, where the residences end and a vast, bus-stopless stretch of road begins, I ran into the mob. There were about 30 or so people waiting for an alternate bus. Some tried to flag down cabs, but this being DC, the cabs just kept going. (God forbid they do their job.) I waited for a few minutes before remembering I had workable legs, so I decided to just walk another 25 minutes to get to my office. Little did I know, however, that I would miss all the action -- all the Third World action, that is!

Apparently, after a while, when the bus didn't come (of course it didn't!), people started getting restless. And with no cabs, people began to get desperate -- so desperate, in fact, that their eyes must have exuded despair and desperation. Then something magical began to happen. According to a man I met while waiting for the bus to come home later that day, people began to hitchhike!

He relayed that he got a ride across Rock Creek Park that morning by some HVAC repairmen in a rusty white van! He told me one woman hopped into a random Toyota, another got into a shiny Saturn, and even more people piled into other vehicles! In this time of crisis, DC dropped its uptight, First-World distrust of others, and started hopping into gypsy cabs, a practice that's standard in the developing world!

"It was kind of cool," the man at the bus stop told me later that day. "Actually, it was really cool."

Indeed, my bus-stop friend, indeed. I can't believe I missed it. I love a good gypsy cab ride. Now, if only we could make it last forever. However, short of rampant arson, I don't think it will. I mean, even I'm not crazy enough to start burning down homes to make DC cooler. Maybe if I just hop in unlocked cars as they stop at stoplights? That could work. Well, until I get pistol-whipped by someone who didn't readily give up their illegal firearms to the cops...dammit.

*By the way, to donate goods, clothes, food, etc., to those who lost their homes in the blaze, you can drop stuff off at Pfeiffer's Hardware located at 3219 Mount Pleasant St.

you had me at bow tie

Since I've already proclaimed my undying devotion to whom I believe to be the hottest man in the legislative branch, allow me now to introduce to you the hottest most stylish man in DC's local government -- Councilmember Jim Graham (D). Behold!

"Make it work!"

The orange cat-eye spectacles! The multi-colored, polka-dot bow tie! The dramatic side part in his sandy-blond hair! For reals, Mr. Graham has got it going on.

And to my delight, Jim "The Hotness" Graham represents my very own neighborhood, the venerable Columbia Heights/Mt. Pleasant! And, apparently, he's not half bad! He's trying to keep my rent low!

But slim pocketbook aside, what's clearly more important here is this man's eye for detail.

A "bee"-jeweled broach! (Get it? LOL!)

And let's not overlook his love of luxury!

Chinchilla, fox, mink? Oh my!

But lest you get the wrong idea, let me take a page from the respectable US Weekly and tell you that the stars council members are just like us, as exhibited by Graham, this man among boys.

He loves animals!

He lifts boxes!

He rides the metro (with the mayor)!

And he does it all while keeping his sh*t tight. No Crocs shall sully his fine linen metro attire. Nary a fleece shall besmirch his shoulders! And may he sooner see a polyester novelty tie in hell before one defaces his finely tailored collar! Eff Clinton, Obama, McCain, et al.! Graham Graham's Bow Tie 2008!