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My New Haircut

November 22, 2009 1 comment

My friend, the reigning queen of Match.com, came into town a couple of weeks ago for a visit. It was the first time in three years I had seen her, and not much had changed, except for the last time we were together she was on the verge of finalizing her divorce.

Years later, and a few relationships later, she was back on the prowl. A smart, sassy, gorgeous girl, she has no problem whatsoever striking up a conversation with anyone she pleases.

On Friday night, while another girlfriend and I were brutally beating some poor baby-faced men at shuffleboard, my visitor met a sweet, young musician. At the end of the evening, my friend got musician guy’s number and told him he could meet up with us the following night.

Twenty-seven hours later, we were on our fifth bar and the friendly musician was having a hard time keeping up with us seasoned party-ers. After a shot of rough whiskey, he and my friend went outside for a smoke. They started kissing, and moments later, he tumbled to the ground. Just straight up fell with no good explanation.

Before the bar closed, the bartender bought my friend and her clumsy beau another shot. Down it went. And down the musician almost went on our walk to the subway.

Once on the subway, a pattern emerged of the musician falling asleep on my friend’s shoulder, and then lifting his head to make out with her, and then falling again. Four stops into our ride, he said he had to run and sprined off the train. As we pull away I see him throwing up along the side of the subway stop. All I could think was good for him for having the sense to get off instead of puking all over my friend’s lap.

Meanwhile, a 21-year-old bold Catholic University kid had managed to find his way into the seat next to my friend. Brave as he was, I am certain he regretted that decision.

You see, drunk or not, my friend is a quick lady. And she very soon called him out, loudly, for coming over because he thought he could slide into the musician’s place without her noticing. But somehow, between the introduction and the call-out, she learned this young chap was from Jersey. So all of a sudden my drunk, brilliant friend, was yelling, over and over again, “Heineken! Jager Bomb! Heineken! Jager Bomb!” with the best Jersey accent she could muster.

Sitting diagonally from her, I thought she had lost her mind. Why was she screaming drink names to this poor kid, in between telling him he had no chance with her?

Lil’ dude didn’t shy away quickly. So when he asked what was so wrong with making out with him, she quickly replied” “Well first of all, what is with your hair? That’s terrible hair. And those shoes are gross. Get some new shoes…”

And on it went intermixed with cries of Heineken! and Jager Bomb!, and something about a new hair cut. Until the young man, finally retreated to his original seat, next to his very embarrassed friend.

But not before the whole front of the subway car was shedding tears from laughing at my friend’s antics. Two people told me it made their night.

Turns out the cries of Heineken! Jager Bomb! and New Haircut! were from this clip, called “My New Haircut,” which makes quite a lot of fun of Jersey guys. Please watch. I promise you will laugh.

A sidenote to this story is four days before my friend arrived in DC she had so badly broken her toe, she had to wear a giant grey robo-boot her entire trip. A sight to be scene as she hobbled along, holding up drunk musician guy. The boot also ended as a prop in the subway scene. My friend railed it against the metal siding of the train every time she was making a point, or screaming Heineken! Jager Bomb!, to the pitiful young man beside her.

To the young man’s credit, he did perform a full-on bow prior to exiting the train. I was surprised he had enough manhood left to pull that off.

Cheers for the friends in life who never fail to make an evening memorable.

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Categories: Bars, DC, Friends

Notes from Vegas

I spent last weekend in Las Vegas with two of my favorite high school boys. What follows are my observations from a well-rounded, fabulous trip.

– Vegas is no longer a place to take your family–unless your children are adults. Giant billboards featuring hoochie girls in racy outfits (if you can call them outfits) run the length of the Strip advertising half-naked shows at major casinos. The pool scene is a hotbed of inappropriate conversations between adults ranging in age from 18 to 55, all who have started drinking by noon. I can’t, in fact, think of an activity to take a child to in Vegas anymore.

-To fit in at a Vegas club, your dress can only cover one to two centimeters below your bottom. Otherwise you are out of place. My friend counted four separate women on the dance floor whose underwear, or lack thereof, he saw in plain view, in some cases multiple times. Since when is it sexy to blatantly reveal your thong on a dance floor before you get the guy you are grinding with back to your room! A true sign I am too old for the Vegas club scene.

-Walking the 2.1 miles, from the Wynn to the Luxor in cheap high heels may seem like a good idea at the time, with the lights, and the shiny new hotels to see, but I guarantee your feet will pay. I still have a red inflamed blister on the top of my toe, five days later.

-But on that same note, the Strip is at its best at night. The lights alone can give you a high. Say what you want about Times Square, and how annoying the foot traffic is, but the same thing applies. You just can’t beat bright, shining, colorful lights. It’s like having Christmas decorations up all year.

-Eating a plain old McDonald’s cheeseburger at 2 am is a great way to weaken the blow from your hangover…despite what my friend may say.

-It is very much worth leaving the Strip, and the city, and finding your way to one of the many natural wonders that surround Vegas. This trip I found myself hiking through Red Rocks Canyon, and being incredibly disappointed that I had dropped and permanently damaged my camera at the club the night before.

The Mix Lounge, on the 64th floor of THEhotel, may win for best view of the Strip. You can see all the way down to the Stratosphere. And with a delicious $15 martini in hand, I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed a view so much.

-Another shout-out to the Mandalay Bay complex is for the Red Square restaurant and bar, which not only features a very tall headless statue out front, but also serves it’s martinis on a strip of ice running the length of a bar. The bartender is also nice enough to hand out free blue cheese stuffed olives to those of us that really couldn’t handle another martini.

-Vegas with a few of your oldest friends, who know you inside and out, and are totally okay with you doing the running man on elevators, is the right way to do Vegas. It keeps me coming back.

You Tell Me

September 4, 2009 Leave a comment

A friend from work challenged me to let her choose three ways I could meet single fellows, or at least meet people who I could meet fellows from, and let the blog readers vote on them. She is convinced she knows which one will win, but when voting, I want you to consider the question at hand. After 11 p.m. on Sunday, September 13th, whatever choice has the most votes will be the activity I do. I will document the experience and report back whether I did in fact meet any nice gents.

Below the poll is a more in-depth explanation about each activity (and information if you want to try any of the activities out yourself!)

Let the voting begin…

UPDATE: With 53% of the vote, the winner is Nintendo Wii Night! Check back soon for a post on how the evening turns out.

Virginia Wine Festival

Sept. 19-20, 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. This festival, at Bull Run Regional Park in Centreville, is one of the biggest in the area, with live music, vendors of crafts and foods and wineries from across the state (including Breaux, Tarara and Kluge Estate). Single-day tickets are $25 in advance, $30 at the gate; designated drivers and ages 12 to 20 $16, $22; ages 6 to 12 $5, $8; 5 and younger free. 540-745-3378 or http://www.across-the-way.com.

Nintendo Wii Night

Don’t have a Wii? You can use the Front Page’s system Sunday through Tuesday.

The Front Page – Ballston 4201 Wilson Blvd., Arlington, VA Executive Airport 1005 Sycolin Rd., Leesburg, VA | 703-777-2420

Thriller Dance Class

Join in the simultaneous global rendition of Michael Jackson’s iconic dance.

Joe’s Movement Emporium 3802-3806 34th St., Mount Rainier, MD | 301-699-1819

Categories: Bars, Dating, Friends, Work

Bathroom Stall Breakthrough

I made a discovery Friday night in the ladies restroom at the bar. The beginnings of social media started in bathroom stalls.

I admit the writings on the wall on this one (hehe), and a person does not have to be an expert in social media to see the connection, but I will say, three drinks deep, that I was fairly ecstatic about my breakthrough.

I did not use to understand what motivated a person to write something on a bathroom stall.

Why tell the world C.F. + T.K.? Aren’t C.F. and T.K. the only ones who needed to know they were “+”?

And does it really make a person feel better to write “Kristen’s a bitch” knowing that there is a good chance “Kristen” won’t ever read it and everyone else who sits down on the toilet probably won’t know who “Kristen” is?

My past judgments aside, I acknowledge that now that Facebook statuses and tweets are available forms of communication what some people post is not all that different from what can be found on the walls of a bathroom.

I credit the following two lines for sparking my claim. The first was in a bathroom at a music venue in Virginia on St. Patrick’s Day. I looked over, and someone had written, “Rock and roll is dead. But that doesn’t mean we can’t dance with the ghost.” For some odd, undefinable reason I liked that line so much I typed it into a “note” on my BlackBerry.

And then on Friday night, I saw this, “THE MAN I LOVE JUST GOT ENGAGED.” Through the Sharpie stain on the wall I felt that woman’s pain.

The world can be a lonely, empty place. And so much of what I think people like myself are doing with blogs, Facebook and Twitter is reaching out into the darkness with the hope that someone else will relate, whether it be to our sadness, our happiness, our interests or our dreams. It’s not the only reason for social media, but it’s certainly one to list under social media’s merits.

Despite my earlier misgivings on bathroom writing, I can’t say I didn’t always read a few lines, just as I admit to checking my Twitter feed and Facebook statuses throughout the day. Whether it be on a metal door or a computer screen, there is something so nice about taking a pause from my life to read a few thoughts from somebody else’s.

Categories: Bars, social media

#4 Quarry House Tavern

On August 12th, I posted a list, provided to me by friendly Bocce-ers, of the Top 5 Places to Meet Decent Men in DC. On Friday night, two childhood friends and I got ourselves down to #4.

The Quarry House Tavern, in downtown Silver Spring, passed the test with flying colors, except that I didn’t meet any men. But there was such potential!

First off I must say the bar Jedi Mind tricks you into being a little bit afraid with it’s sketchy entrance on the side of an Indian buffet restaurant. The set of steep stairs are covered by a rectangular black box that has a door cut into it. There is no sign, except a white piece of paper with The Quarry House scribbled on it and taped to the top of the black box.

Once inside though the bar has everything anyone should ever want in a bar. Amazing whiskey list. Even more amazing beer list. Dark walls covered in metal beer signs. A fantastic juke box with a varied CD collection including The Smiths, U2, Van Morrison, Elvis, Otis Redding, Run DMC, and Johnny Cash. Two kinds of tater tots (get the bacon and cheese over the Old Bay).  Friendly, well-versed staff who are required to buzz around from table-to-table on a busy Friday, but will still stop and help you choose one of the 20 beers you have it narrowed down to.

The kicker: the place is a revolving door of decent-looking, decent-acting men! Without having spoken to any of them, they seemed like the kind of guys who get together on a Friday night and drink good beer and pick decent music on the jukebox, and don’t have a desire to go to a “meat market” bar and hunt for women to take home with them. They instead leave it to chance that a girl will be impressed with their chosen jukebox song and strike up a conversation, that could turn into a date, that could lead to a second date, and maybe even a third, upon which they may get laid.

I spent the evening drinking whiskey and catching up with my friends. I didn’t have a strong desire to spend time near the jukebox and commend men on their picks. When you only get to see friends a couple times a year, it seems more important to enjoy a shot of tequila and two large orders of tater tots together. But now that I know how spot on the Quarry House is, you can bet I’ll be back, with a wing woman in tow.

Categories: Bars, DC, Friends, Silver Spring

21 Again

August 22, 2009 2 comments

Last night I joined seven others in drinking out of an octo-bong–a wide plastic funnel with eight clear rubber tubes. The master of the ceremonies at this particular house party held up the octo-bong, and we all took a tube. After removing the plastic top that held back the beer in the tube, the funnel was raised and we all bent our knees, put our heads back, and drank up. As a virgin octo-bonger, I’m proud to say I was the first to finish my tube of beer.

My friend, who kindly agreed to join me for a happy hour, a birthday party at Fado’s in Chinatown, and a house party in Dupont, got quite the kick out of the news that I had never even seen an octo-bong. To my credit, she is a graduate of a Big Ten school and I went to small liberal arts colleges for my two degrees. We had other kinds of bongs around, just not the octo-bong.

My bong hit of Bud Light capped off a night of Blue Moon, Hoegaarden, a Lemon Drop shot, a Red-Headed Slut shot, and Blue Point Summer Ale (a Long Island ale I had never had before. I would recommend to anyone who likes summer ales).

And though the hangover was a little rougher then I’m used to, it was totally worth it.

The word I would use to describe last night is free. Not free as in no cost. Free as in I was single and truly loving it. I smoked two cigarettes at the party (my mom is going to read this and kill me). I was never a smoker, but during and after college, every once in awhile I enjoyed a Marlboro Light from a friend if I had been drinking. I stopped doing that because my boyfriend said he wouldn’t kiss me at the end of the night if I smoked. I thought that was fair. Three years later, and on my own again, it was a strangely amazing feeling when I was offered a cigarette and could say yes. I don’t think it’s a habit I’ll pick up again, but I savored that moment.

When I was 21 I would have been back at it again tonight. But I’m not 21, and I don’t want to pretend to be. So instead I watched a movie with my roommate and wrote in my blog. I will be in bed by midnight so I can go to yoga at 9 a.m.

But next week my childhood best friend and her sister are coming to town. The Quarry House and the Piratz Tavern await. Let the adventure continue.

Categories: Bars, DC, Friends

The Logistics of a Compliment

August 16, 2009 3 comments

I put on an above-the-knee silk dress and brand new heels. I applied eyeliner, eye shadow and mascara and hurried out the door into the warm summer evening. I arrived at the Columbia Heights Metro stop and a kind woman pointed me in the right direction of my final destination. And so it began.

On the way to the bar, only two honks. But it was still daylight, and not yet 6 pm. By the time I said my good-byes to friends and friends of friends at the Wonderland Ballroom, it was 9:45 and night had fallen. That’s when the fun really began.

It started with a man on a stoop who pushed his lips together and created a squeaky noise that I believe he meant to be an air kiss. Next it was a very loud whistle from a passenger in a white car who I avoided eye contact with. After two blocks, I was greeted with an enthusiastic, but polite “hello” and “nice dress” by another man on a stoop. Then a quick and dirty honk. Finally the walk climaxed with a car speeding past, and a deep voice yelling, “In those heels, I’d do anything to you girl!”

While I enjoy the attention of men, especially when I’ve put the effort in to apply paint to my eyes and stilts to my feet, I am perplexed as to why it feels not-so-nice when I’m shouted at by passing cars. The man who said “nice dress” went over much better than the dude who was going to dirty things to me because of my heels. But I have to admit none of any of the various sounds that came at me walking four city blocks made me feel comfortable.

As a single girl, I love a compliment, but where’s the line? Am I discriminating against the men who decide the best way to tell me I look pretty is to honk or whistle? Why do I feel more threatened by them than I do by the guy who comes up to the bar while I’m waiting and buys me a drink?

It can be a terrifying world for a single 27-year-old female. I’m not naive. I have heard the stories, some from friends. I understand the importance of being self-aware and safe. But on a busy city steet when a man on a stoop greets me and compliments my outfit, even if he is overenthusiastic, I can take the compliment with a polite smile and maybe even a hi back. I’m not sure I want to live in a world where I shouldn’t do that.

Categories: Bars, DC, Flirting