A vote to ban public intoxication

Well, not so much public intoxication as the sale of single bottles of beer and other malt liquors that are under 70 ounces or less.

A member of the DC Council has put forth the motion for a citywide ban of such sales, which I thoroughly support. You see, I live in Chinatown, which has been blessed/tortured by gentrification (depending on your point of view). There are numerous little grocers around that sell single cans of beer, Colt 45 or that sick cross between Red Bull and a 40.

Too many times, I have been walking down the street at 3 in the afternoon to the tune of a (seemingly homeless) man stumbling about, barely holding on to his substance of choice, ranting at no one. "You and your sister, yeah you put your hand in your fuckin hair, you told your brother, it's all that crack, that crack!"

I think he knows first hand.

I am sick of people approaching me on the street for money, slurring their words. (Why buy a sandwich when you can use that cash for your cheap fix?) Or the mother bumping her stroller against the tiny aisles of the Chinese grocer as she grabs her fifth beer of Sunday afternoon. (No child protection laws against that?) Or the woman falling down steps of a liquor store, clutching her lotto ticket and requisite black paper sac.

Call me a snob, call me elitist, but if you can't afford to buy a six pack or a bottle of alcohol and go enjoy it in private, you probably shouldn't be spending your cash on booze. If you can't get through Sunday without a 40, you might have a problem.

And for those of us who fall into neither camp, tough luck- we can still pick up our six pack at Whole Foods on Saturday and keep it in the fridge. Or perch at a bar, where one might hear ranting, but fueled by cosmos, not crack.

Not that I'm bitter, but...

Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon? For reals?

There's a reason it's called the "honeymoon phase," people. Looks like Mariah and her boytoy decided to throw in a wedding with it too. Why not?

Another Hollywood couple that will never bicker over bills, pills or dental insurance- only who gets more face time in front of the camera.

Do you think they even know that the other one pees???

When snakes are better than kids

"Holy contraceptive!"

-Stephanie's reaction to children on planes

So there's this guy...

(It always starts the same way, doesn't it?)

He and I have history... a couple years of it, in fact. Which is a rarity among my dating time line: I tend to have brief, one-to-two month flings that turn into blips on the radar, funny stories to be recounted at another time (i.e. the guy who talked to his stuffed frog, the one who thought he was 21st century Oscar Wilde, etc.)

So after college graduation, and our penultimate argument, this guy went to work in Europe. Last time we saw each other was in April, when he and I met up in France, went to London, before I left for Barcelona on my own.

And now, he's back. Same continent, same country even. To put an even finer point on it, he and I are currently in the same state and tomorrow will be in the same area code.

cue Ludacris ... sorry just had to.

Anyway, I sent him a message on gchat yesterday saying welcome to NY, and if you're around or interested, I'll be in the city Wednesday morning and afternoon. I know he got the first part, because he responded to that directly, but then my computer froze.

Did he get the message? Does he know I'll be all of 10 minutes away? And, if he does, does he even care, does it matter? Do I remind him again? Ask if we're getting coffee? WTF?

I am unusually insecure about this, and worried about looking desperate. I'm not desperate. Just curious. Wondering if he'll take the bait.

What would NPH do? Hmmm...

PS Thanks to all my cyber-supporters; you guys (and your blogs) rock!

Don't hate the player...

I think I speak for a lot of other bloggers when I say, "what's up with the haters?"

Seriously, if you don't like me and/or my blog, why waste any of your seemingly precious time commenting on my views and making fun of others? You have nothing better to do? Sad.

Didn't your mother teach you well?

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Or at least say it with wit.

Otherwise, go fug yourself. I'm probably hotter than you anyway.

Tagged: Seven Random Things About Brett

From Allergic Girl - thanks for the tag!

Rules:
1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share seven random and/or weird things about yourself.
3. Tag seven people at the end of your post and include links to their blog.
4. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

So, without further adieu, seven weird/random things about me:

1. I can only eat organic apples and pears. Otherwise my teeth and throat start itching.

2. I can't stand Woody Allen. He may be the most annoying person to have ever lived (or made a movie). Somehow I was able to get through Annie Hall. Though I did want to kill him.

3. I find cooking, particularly grilling, very relaxing.

4. I couldn't tell you the last day I went without a glass of wine.

5. I used to highlight my hair blonde, a la Britney Spears in Slave 4 U. Can you see it?

6. My eyes are actually dark green, if you look very close. I swear!

7. I'm not a klutz- reflexes of a cat- but I'm always bumping into things.

Here's who I'm tagging:
Jamie at Farm Fresh Meat
Capitol Hill
I-66
Kalyn at Kalyn's Kitchen
Food Rockz Man

You're it!

The Lady Sans Lunch

My friend emailed me the other day to inquire how I was enjoying the life of leisure, now that I've been paid out through my official resignation date. Was I lying in the sun with margaritas, flipping through Vogue and mentally cataloging the new looks for Spring?

To which I replied: The life of leisure? More like the life of terror.

I am a type A, which means that I don't do well with idle hands. Sleeping late for me is 8; really sleeping in ends at 11. Throw in a cold, terrible allergies and a bruised tail bone (I literally fell on my ass last Saturday night), and you've got a recipe for cabin fever. I couldn't bend down, let alone exercise, and besides could barely focus on anything thanks to the combo of antihistamines and Tylenol AM.

It was beautiful out, so to pass time I walked two miles plus to and from the doctor, the pharmacy, the farmer's market, really anywhere I could. Luckily I had plans Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings, otherwise I'd probably still be walking and sniffling in the 80 degree sun.

But now the weather's turned nasty, it's Monday, and everyone's back at work. Who am I supposed to talk to, interact with? I'm either applying for jobs or surfing the net. I've already reorganized my closet- twice. (Space Bags are ingenious, btw.) I saw a movie by myself yesterday. Which is fine, but certain comedies beg a companion to laugh with.

I have the odd interview here and there; the fact that I have so much time to think about my lack of prospects is only feeding the anxiety. And thanks to my drunken clumsiness, I still can't work out to release the stress.

I always secretly longed to be a lady who lunches, gossiping over the latest school board scandal and toasting to the sans souci lifestyle with a glass of champagne at the Ritz. But this bitch's got ambition... she just needs somewhere to put it.