The Weekend Review

This weekend I fully took advantage of a smattering of DC metro area delights.  I stumbled into a variety of events without really making plans, and it turned out to be a great weekend.

It started off with a Friday night of live music at the State Theater in Falls Church.  A variety of bands performed, including 

NUMA, Everyone but Pete, and Blind Rhetoric, but the real highlight of the evening was the headlining band, Sematic.  With a sound similar to the early nineties era of rock (think modern day version of Alice in Chains meets Sound Garden meets Stone Temple Pilots) Sematic lit up the stage and set the crowd wild...including myself.  The lead singer Tim Gilbert (who is new to the group), did a phenomenal job.  He worked the crowd like a seasoned pro.  I'm not one to get caught up in the local music scene, but Sematic is a band I will be trying to see again.

Moving on to Saturday, I had the chance to see some of the US trials for the Homeless World Cup.  I saw teams from all over the country competing for the chance to participate in the 2008 Homeless World Cup taking place in Melbourne, Australia.  It was absolutely fascinating to me, and actually inspired me to go see the documentary, Kicking It, at the E Street Cinemas.  The documentary follows players from around the wor

ld, and their struggles as homeless people in their own countries, and the motivation and hope that soccer gives them.  It made me want to go out and buy a soccer ball...and also understand homelessness a little better.

And Saturday evening, I enjoyed my first taste of Ethiopian cuisine at Dukem.  It was delicious.  I had been trying to convince StuD to go to an Ethiopian restaurant with me for about a year now.  Finally, once he moved to the U St. neighborhood, he says "Let's go to this Ethiopian place and try it out!" as if it had been his idea all along.  Whatever, I was just happy to go.  Since it was our first time, the waitress was extremely helpful and explained the menu, and gave us some "beginner" suggestions.  Top notch, top notch.

Ok, enough raving about my good, deep, and insightful weekend and back to being bitter and salty for a Monday morning at work.  Gross.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 2003

eff you.

Everyone else, listen to this load of poop...

This year marks my fifth year since graduating from high school.  As is tradition, the leaders of my graduating class decided to set a date for our 5-year reunion.  Being the considerate folks that they are (yeah, I'm talking about you, Pretty), the set the date approximately three months out, giving our 112-person graduating class PLENTY of time to clear their calendars and make arrangements.  The reunion was set to take place at Put-In-Bay, a two by four mile island in the sparkling waters of Lake Erie.

"Oh, what fun this will be!  I'm sure everyone is just DYING to get together for our reunion!  Gee whiz, I can't wait!"  I thought naively to myself when I cleared my own calendar and requested a half-day off work.

I then proceeded to book a three-bedroom hotel suite on the island and shot out an email letting EVERYONE know that "I've booked some rooms, who wants in?!" assuming that my fellow classmates would just be FLOCKING to get a spot in my set of rooms.

I'm a total naive moron.

The grand total of people attending my high school reunion:  4

And that's including myself.  Way to go graduating class of 2003.  I'm canceling my friggin' hotel suite first thing tomorrow.

Old Man and the Sea

And by "Old Man" I mean "Drunk people." And by "Sea" I mean "Chesapeake Bay." More on that in a hot second...

After various threats from friends, I am finally posting again.

Hurricane: my apologies for not giving you something to read while you sit at your desk and fart at work.

Kirk: the fact that you have even started to try and read my blog has given me motivation to keep posting…and the motivation to come up with better one-liners that I’m “not even that good at.”

Well me mateys, I’m just going to start out with an update with what has been going on, and give you a little story to nibble on.

My List of Updates:

1) I have NOT bought a scooter. I actually had written an entire post about how much I still wanted one and how I was going to buy one, but then on the way to the DMV to get the Motorcycle designation on my driver’s license my air conditioning broke. Go figure. Some of you might say that this is the perfect excuse to get rid of a car and go scooter, but really, I need a car…and now I might need a new one. So, I am saving my money for a down payment on that…eventually.

2) In an attempt to expand my transportation horizons, I have started biking to work. Yes, I’m one of those freaks on a bicycle schlepping to work at 6:30AM. But I can’t complain too much...it’s only 3.5 miles from my house to my place of employment. I tested out the whole bicycle commuting deal on Bike to Work Day. In the rain.

3) I have started playing softball with a group of friends in a DC softball league. I initially wanted to get in on the kickball madness that all the young trendy DC professionals rave about, but Kirk forgot to tell me about the sign-up…and by “Kirk forgot to tell me about the sign-up” I mean “I’m obviously not trendy enough for kickball.”

4) I went charter fishing on the Chesapeake this past weekend…which brings me to my story…

I was fortunate enough to be invited to go charter fishing with Hurricane and some other friends this past weekend. There was a group of about 12 of us on the boat. We all brought plenty of food, beer, sangria, and Hurricane's sister and her hubby even made special t-shirts to commemorate the trip. We were set to have an amazing time.

Now, when you go charter fishing, you rent out a big fishing boat. It usually comes equipped with a captain and a first mate, and giant fishing poles that are attached to the boat and made for hauling in huge fish. It’s pretty friggin’ sweet.

This is how it works: You and your friends stand around, shoot the shit, eat food, and drink liquor drinks and beer while the captain and first mate watch the fishing lines. If something chomps on a line, the captain will yell out “FISH ON!” As soon as those two words are called out, chaos ensues. Everyone immediately starts yelling and cheering, beer and chips fly everywhere, and the first mate will rush over to the pole, grab it, and thrust it into the hands of whatever unsuspecting drunkard happens to be standing nearby. I happened to be one of those unsuspecting drunkards.

Sunglasses askew, slopping sangria all over myself, I grasped the pole and prepared to reel in a fish, while everyone started screaming at me and cheering me on. Unfortunately, the pole that was thrust in my hands had a fishing line that was a quarter of a mile out. I heard the first mate talking about it earlier while he was smoking his one-thousandth Doral Menthol cig, saying “Now that line right thur is ‘bout quarter mile out…may God help yeh.”

After the first fifteen seconds of reeling, I realized I was going to need some help. Now, I’ve been working out, but when you’ve been guzzling sangria all day and you’re teetering on a boat in the Chesapeake, there is nothing wrong with asking for a little help to reel in your fish. I shouted out to one of my new friends nearby “Lady! Help me reel this in! I need a spotter!” She very kindly obliged. I think I screamed and hollered like a crazy person the entire time I was reeling in the fish. At one point I even said, “This is just like giving birth!”

For chrissakes, how would I know what giving birth is like?! At the time, I imagined it was EXACTLY like reeling in a 23-inch Rockfish from the Chesapeake Bay. I reeled in my catch, and proudly held it up for the obligatory photo-op.

About 20 minutes later, we heard the words “FISH ON!” again, and a fellow boat mate started reeling in another fish. We all started clapping and cheering her on. She happened to be Hurricane’s older sister, who has two beautiful children. Right in the middle of reeling in the fish, she looked at me and yelled, “This is NOTHING like giving birth!”

Ha, well, point taken, my friend.