Pirates and Cougars

I involved myself in a few activities and went to a few places this weekend that I'm ashamed to admit to, but I will. First, Pirates Tavern, in Silver Spring. Now don't get me wrong I love a pirate as much as the next person but on a Friday night do I really need to be in a pirate themed bar in Maryland??? I had to go. Six months ago Matt got insanely drunk there, bought everyone drinks while saying "I work for the fucking government." and stole gummy worms from other people's shots, then vomited in the bar and was carried home through the blizzard by some friends. (And he continued vomiting all the way home) He put into place a 6 month self-imposed ban and this was his return. Like I said, I had to go.

Wow this place was pirated up to the core. Skeletons, treasure chests, costumed service staff, lots of netting, sails and wooden things...no plank though. Sad. Grog: traditional pirate drink. Mix three types of whiskey with cinnamon and ginger beer and put it in a massive hold-this-with-both-hands sized glass and there you have grog. The pirates came around and played songs, sang, harassed us and they did it all in pirate speak, which was cool, but we were a big group and so they kinda came after us a lot which was annoying considering the topics of conversation. 1. Clark gets enraged about belly dancers at the restaurant Marrakesh and says its just as offensive as going in blackface. He was legitly angry and he's one of the most mild mannered humans alive. 2. Mike shouts quasi racists comments at the pirates when he gets the idea that the black pirate is named 'Black Jack' (he wasn't). 3. Shana reams out Clark and Matt for talking about the women in Kazakhstan. 4. Shana was forced to take a birthday shot called a Cannonball, which was made from what sounded like 3 types of 150+ proof booze. Immediate remorse. 5. Katie was singing Irish songs. All in all the place was fun. The people that work there may or may not be way too into pirates, and those ladies' corsets were WAY too tight and they were showing WAY too much cleavage, but the booze was fun and the company was good. I would def take friends from out of town there again but I doubt it'd be my go-to bar.

After Shana's birthday dinner at Mei Nu the next night, which was incredible as always, we went to Modern Lounge to check it out. It was the biggest mixed bag of random fools I had ever seen. The music was meh, it smelled funny and there were two really wasted people grinding on one another hardcore and it was only 11pm. We bailed and met Lukas and Jesus at Rhino bar (ugh I know, positively shameful), where their roommate Britney is the bartender. We drank for free all night. There was some dancing, some highly unsavory behavior by the Polish man and like 100 super drunk Georgetown undergrads, but we muscled through with the power of free booze (thank you britney!) At last call we leave, but not before Britney shoves 4 Miller Lites in my purse. Somehow Jesus and I end up in some Georgetown senior's house chatting it up...I guess it was a party and wasn't anymore. I have no clue. Jesus accused me of cougaring it up with one of the kids. Yo, talking and facebooking is not cougaring.

Katy says she's not a cougar because she's too young to be a cougar. She calls herself a puma, which I learned from Matt is inaccurate because cougars are pumas. So we start googling big cats and find the Serval. It can jump 12ft. It is so cute. THIS is the kinda cat you want to be (I mean if you're into the whole cougaring it up thing). It is my new favorite animal and should I ever be involved with a younger man will be how I distinguish myself from the cougars. Apparently they can be domesticated and form strong bonds with families. However if I woke up and one was standing on my bed I would freak the hell out. They are big.

Music, Lasers, the Gays

Jesus wanted me to go to a concert at the Rock 'n Roll Hotel last night. I love that place. Its dark and cool, has tons of couches, not too many hipsters, its an intimate venue, good drinks, flying guitars on the ceiling...it is awesome. I also love seeing Jesus in North East DC, he just gets edgy and uncomfortable whenever he strays too far from the comfort of Georgetown's cobblestone streets and gourmet cupcakes. He donned his t-shirt with a hole in it and we ventured forth. The cab ride was totally an indication of how things would devolve. We discussed pot, ecstasy, cocaine, GW drug dealers and dancing. The driver was laughing and I half suspected he was a narc. We get there and I quickly usher Jesus, Rock 'n Roll Hotel virgin, upstairs and show him around the place. He wanders around every inch of the place like a moderately retarded 3 year old staring up in amazement and confusion. I breathe a sigh of relief when at last he exclaims, "I really like this place! This place is weird but cool." Jesus is REALLY judgey, especially for someone who frequents Rhino Bar and Clydes, and its totally obnoxious to be somewhere he doesn't like because you will not hear the end of it and you end up binge drinking until you can no longer hear his bitching.

We grab drinks and head down to catch three songs from the opening act, who was really decent. Like a way edgier Jack Johnson/James Blunt. His voice was angelic at moments in his love songs. As we walked in the room though something was odd. I looked around and realized I was one of only 5 females in the room and all the men were very well groomed. "Jay Brennan is gay?" I asked. "Yeah, I mean why?" Jesus asked. "Well that explains the quantity of man love in the room...and it also explains the lesbians who I thought were hipster boys but upon closer inspection are actually chicks." We then scanned the crowd and judged. It is what we do best.

The opening act finished and the crowd just instinctively shifted forward, everyone moving en mass to get as close to Jay Brennan as possible. He came out (well I'm fairly sure he came out long before this) and started with an incredible Lady Gaga cover. His lyrics were never trite, his voice was velvety and versatile and his commentary between songs was hysterical. He totally appealed to the DC crowd by incorporating intern/senators/sexual favors jokes. Jesus and I made fast friends with a chick and her gay friend who were next to us and she was constantly engaging in a dialogue with Jay, she was really funny. I should mention that every girl there had her respective gay friend in tow. I, however, feel I was the only one who wasn't lusting after the gay men or asking them to "try women". I did catch the eye of a few lesbians. I always do. They always hit on me. Its like a rule. And I never know its happening until they've bought me a drink and someone points out that I'm being hit on, then it gets awkward as I attempt to slink away tactfully. And lesbians always hate Jesus. No clue why, but they hate him. We were a dynamic duo for sure.

After the show we went upstairs and danced to crazy top 40 hits amidst green and red lasers. It was awesome. Lasers make everything so much cooler. At one point this devastatingly gorgeous man said, "My boyfriend just called." I was just drunk enough to ask him if I could pretend he was straight, "Just for pretend!" because it was a very grave thing for women everywhere that a man so beautiful wasn't into chicks. Thankfully he laughed and said he'd be fine with my pretending he was straight and was not offended and I got back to dancing to Madonna's Like a Prayer with a frantically flailing Jesus. (Okay so I lusted after that one, but if you saw him you'd totally understand) All in all, an awesome night on H st.

Just when I think that night couldn't have gotten any better I get a call from Jesus this morning, his voice thick with sleep and shame. Jesus apparently kept the dream alive last night and went to Rhino Bar, where dreams go to die. He then went home and passed out and peed his pants. He's literally going to pretend he's not speaking to me for like a week for writing this, but it had to be done. Britney, his new roommate, spent the night and apparently awoke to the fresh scent of urine and a puddle on her leg. Sad, but true.

Animals

I would consider myself an animal lover, especially the fuzzy ones. They are just so cute and fun and I love them. I am also someone who is severely disturbed when I seen animals get abused, one could say I have a conscience. In my travels, however, I have come to accept that to some people animals are just animals and be treated as such. An elephant is a gorgeous creature and watching one paint a picture of a daisy on a sunny day in Chaing Mai I actually got a little teary eyed because it seemed to have so much humanity, that is until it stopped painting and the wiry Thai trainer punched him in the head. Then I just needed a drink. On the other end of the spectrum some people love animals way too much, to the extent that it is bizarre, disturbing, unnatural and should probably be reported to the proper authorities. Today I'm exploring all the freakshows that involve animals in their freakdom.

The following video is what prompted this blog, when I saw it for the first time I laughed, I'll admit it. But then I got a little irate, but after Willis told me the cat was apparently a rescue cat and had been abused before, and that it was left in the trash can for 15 hours before someone heard it crying, it became sad. I do agree with one of the comments at the bottom saying that the woman should be put in a garbage receptacle of some sort for 15 days and see how she likes it.

She has the gall to pet it and coo at it then dumps it and walks off like nothing happened! Who are you lady?!? Get a hobby, one that doesn't involve throwing live mammals into trash cans!


FURRIES!

The next crew of animal weirdos I think need to be addressed are what are known as "Furries". These are people who are into fictional animal characters with human characteristics, in other words these fools dress up in head to toe furry animal costumes and hang out at conventions and weird Furry sex gatherings. It is even a whole cartoon genre. Its weird.




The Furry phenomena was introduced to me one odd night at Clydes. Clearly it was half off wine night because otherwise I really do not understand how things devolved to furries. I had forgotten we had all discussed it but woke up in horror when I looked at my phone the next morning and saw that I'd been looking at these pictures. It all came rushing back and I got a little less creeped out by my drunken self, still though I'm really, really uncomfortable knowing that these people are out there.

*Fun Fact* Some furries claim that Josie and the Pussycats were the original furries. I'm not so sure but...


Some animals fight back.

Sure Tillikum looks cute, yaaaaay Shamu! Yeah, until you stiff him on some fish or blow that whistle a little too loud, then he jumps up, grabs your pony tail and drags you to a watery grave in front of 200 freaked out little kids and their parents who video it and put it on youtube.

Honestly though she was asking for it. This whale had killed before. He was found with the body of a transient draped over him one morning a few years before. Why was there a transient in a whale tank? How did the transient get into the water park? How was the body draped over the whale? Was Tillikum framed?

No, these men are not the grand martials of the Pride Parade, its Sigfried and Roy. The white tiger looks so cute and friendly! Until he mauls you and eats your face. Generally these clowns don't have much trouble with the animals in their shows, or the ones they allow to run around their home (which closer resembles a Persian themed gay nightclub in Chelsea than an actual home), because they keep them so doped up they couldn't fight if they tried. But man oh man this is what happens when you mess with wild animals, you get freaking mauled. Isn't that obvious to people yet? They're animals, no concept of right or wrong, subjugate them and put them in small spaces with weird diets and they are going to lose their minds sooner or later and eat you.

Long story short, don't hurt animals, and don't try and lock them up and train them, they really don't dig captivity and eventually they'll rip your face off or drown you. As weird as the Furries are, to be honest, I think the moral of this story is that they are the lesser of all the evils presented here. Wow. Who was ready for that one? They're still weirdos.

WTF DC

This one goes out to all the freaks and weirdos in DC who cause those full on, jaw dropping, breath-taking, mildly horrific moments...

1) A bum is inebriated to a nearly fatal extent on the metro, nothing new there. He then begins to urinate in the metro car, gross but harmless. He's not peeing on anyone and he has no idea what's going on or where he is, thanks to the open bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 sloshing around in his pocket as he sways with the movement of the metro car. Out of nowhere a big guy in fatigues jumps up, karate chops the bum in the throat (insert audible cracking sound), wrestles him to the ground and is screaming at him, demanding that he apologize to the people on the metro. When I was interviewed by Metro my response was, "I don't have time for this, but you need to lock that fool up. He just attacked another human! Who the hell karate chops a windpipe man? That kind of post traumatic stress induced freak out is not cool. Lock that fool up." (Timestamp: 7:35am, Orange Line to Vienna)

2) Peter Bic was the bum who lived on the Hill who I spoke to every single day, both on my way to work and on my way home, for about a year. Not once did recognize me. Peter slept on the patio in front of Arman's Pizza and had only 2 teeth in his mouth. What compelled me to speak to him was the globe he had in his shopping cart. Bums generally do have odd things but I'd never seen one with a globe and I respected that Peter had one. He always gave me his card, yes he had a card with his name and his website. You know I went to the website. It was a single paragraph that went on for what would be about 20 pages single spaced and it was all conspiracy theory. He linked JFK's death to 9/11 to the Ginsberg baby to Einstein's Theory of Relativity, it was all one big conspiracy to Peter. How did he come up with this? How did he make his own website? How did he get access to a computer? Where did he get his business cards? Why does a bum need business cards?

3) Lady on my block who wears Ralph Lauren Polo dresses every day. First, 2001 called and they want their dress back. Second, why does this woman have like 12 different colors of the same dress? Lady you are single-handedly keeping the entire population of the District of Columbia trapped in a fashion black hole. DC finally starts getting some style and you've gotta drag us back down to yuppy hell. It makes me want to go all PETA and douse her in red paint every day in the hopes that she will be forced to wear something, ANYTHING, else.

4) Conversation between two bums in Georgetown, one of whom was wearing a Santa hat.
"Man you look like a asshole in that hat." -Bum 1
"Fuck you this is a cash cow! People can't resist my Santa style." -Bum 2
A lady gives him a buck as she walks by.
"See man, a CASH COW." -Bum 2
"I gotta get me a Santa hat." -Bum 1
"Don't steal my shit man! You can be my elf." -Bum 2

5) Drunk woman points and laughs at a man's dreads on the metro. Notes loudly how disgusting they are to her companions. Upon entering metro car drunk woman shoves gross dreads man out of the way. Woman is asked by her one of her companions, "Do you know what you just did?" She smiles and shakes her head yes emphatically. Yeah, that was me. My bad. But seriously, fix your hair gross dreads dude and that would have never happened.

Adult Games

Contrary to your initial reaction to the title of this entry, this is not about anything of a lascivious or scandalous nature. (Sorry to those of you who I know are disappointed)

So last night I met Janai out at the Red Derby. Now I dig this place for a few reasons; its close to my place,  cheap and it is that one peg above divey that makes it comfortable but not trendy. The highlight last night, however, was Jenga.

I should mention here that I love games. I really love games, but I am terrible at them. I am the first to grab darts in a bar, and frankly, I'm lucky to hit the board. I don't even know the rules. I don't even try to learn the rules of games anymore, I just kinda get in there and do what seems right. Never play pool with me because I cheat. I knock the balls in when no one's looking. I do it every time I play. I would feel bad, but people get frustrated playing pool with me because I am so terrible. What starts off as cute and funny turns pathetic and annoying, so yeah I cheat and I do it for the team. In Thailand I was once asked to stop playing frisbee because I was so awful. It wasn't the freaking Olympics man, it was a game of frisbee on a remote beach, but I was a serious hindrance to the game. True confession, I practiced by myself until I could throw the thing and have it not go behind me, now I'm not so bad at frisbee but its a far cry from good. I was amazing at Texas Hold 'Em the first time I played in Argentina. John, a Texan who prided himself in his abilities in the game, got so mad at my blind luck that he threw his cards across the room. But once I actually learned the rules and tried using strategy I couldn't win a hand. You see, I have what we in the business call horse shit luck. I'm awesome at anything the first time I play but its all downhill from there.

We started playing Jenga and it quickly got old and we began making towers. Janai being Janai, a fellow cheap as chips, shoestring backpacker who spins fire and not only fell in love with a mullet-rocking Mexican, but she joined a circus while in Central America (See mom, I did a lot of things in Central America but i did NOT join a circus, consider it a triumph and a testament to your good parenting...no offense Janai), obviously her towers were way cooler than mine. I watched her zone out and channel her inner hippy, which is way more hippyish than my own, and just get at it. Janai's inner hippy probably smells like patchouli, has dreads that it doesn't maintain well and makes their own clothes, where as mine showers daily, pays 80 bucks in Georgetown for a haircut and prefers shopping at Zara. She incorporated everything from the candle on the table to her beer and maybe even a sweet potato french fry or two into her tower. My tower looked comparable to a small box. Okay it wasn't that bad. Eventually it was actually pretty good but who can compete with a candle? But we spent what seemed like ages constructing ever more precarious looking towers who's angles challenged the inebriated laws of physics and it was awesome.

The last time I played Jenga was in El Retiro, in Lanquin, Guatemala, the hostel I worked at for a month and a half while backpacking through Central America. It was a life sized game of Jenga, like playing with two by fours, so when the towers fell the whole place shook. No matter what else was going on, cross-dressing fashion shows, Mexican food night, Michael Jackson dance offs, you could peer through the dizzying haze of Flor de Cana, illicit smokables, and cigarettes and see a group of 6-8 people focusing every ounce of their concentration on the giant game of Jenga. It was funny because through out the night everyone in the establishment would, at some point, walk over and watch or take part or even just look over to see how it was going and there was a tangible feeling of disappointment each time the blocks came crashing down, like we all had a vested interest in the game.

I think playing games is one of those things we hold onto even after we've long surpassed the age of setting aside childish things; like building sand castles at the beach and finger painting or investing way too much time, effort and energy into finding Waldo. I like it though, that more places like Rocket Bar and Buffalo Billiards are there to cater to our inner children, because week after week of being inured by the idea that you're an adult and should be mature, professional and stoic (read: boring) sometimes you just want to play. As we get older the venues in which we play are different but the games change little from those we reveled in as kids. You could say the bar industry is paving the way for the emancipation of our inner children by making it socially acceptable for adults to play. I'm fully all about it. You know who to call next time you hit up Rocket Bar for a sick game of ski ball, just keep me away from the pool table.

**Ski ball happens to be the one game I am skilled in. Okay I am beyond skilled, I am a golden goddess. But its because I roll it right down the middle every time and get the 50, I never go boldly into the proverbial ski ball night and go for that 100 like most of my friends, I stick with the 50. I always win and am endlessly pleased with myself but I know its boring to play me because I always go right for the 50. Give me a break its the one game I can play and win without cheating.

Somehow I feel I owe it to the world to start a blog

"It will be interesting to see how long you keep this up." says Shana, a friend, neighbor and collegue. Oh how she underestimated my narcissism...

I'm not going to give any sort of overview of how this is gonna play out, what topics will be covered or where I'm going with this because honestly I have no idea. I'm using this is a forum to display my random, and often times bizarre, thoughts, experiences and encounters.

I've recently decided that its well time to apply to Masters programs, something along the lines of International Development. I'm particularly interested in AU's Natural Resources and Sustainable Development program, which requires a year of study at the University for Peace in Costa Rica, not bad, not bad. I'm also looking into three programs in Holland and one in Italy. More and more it becomes clear that I need to live abroad. Yes, yes I've spent tons of time backpacking and studying in South and Central America and Southeast Asia, but I mean really living, like when I was in Argentina for over a year...only longer. When discussing the prospect of doing a Masters in Europe with Janai I contemplated my life as a European and it went a bit like this...

Me: The best thing about European Universities is no GREs, and your chances of getting a job over there are way better. And, of course, meeting a lovely European man...

I would love to be a kept woman. Sit in my lovely home on some idyllic street in some old as dirt european town, sipping coffee, eating pan de chocolate and wearing a fantastic scarf. I'd get back to my painting, ride a bicycle everywhere, smoke rollies and have a terrier. And you could be there too Janai! We could refer to things as "declase" and "soooo bourgeouise", read Satre and speak in a mixture of 4-5 languages, of which we know a marginal amount, because pretention is the bibelot Europeans never leave home without.

Aaaaah my European life.
 
Don't misunderstand, although it sounds as if I'm painting all Europeans as vapid, self-absorbed, indulgent, uselessly oppulant and obnoxiously showy, I'm not. That's obviously only the French. The rest of them are quite lovely to be around.
 
But on a real note, spending some quality time in Europe would be good for me I think. Take in a bit of Old World scenery, walk more, live in a tiny flat somewhere charming, stop being so impressed by things that are 400+ year old and maybe find a way to leach off of their welfare state as I age as Universal Healthcare in the States seems to be a far flung dream.