Saturday, December 04, 2004

To the dick who stole my bike 

You are a retarded fucking criminal. Instead of going for Mercedes S-classes, you take an obviously well used Schwinn mountain bike, and now I have no way to get to and from class other than to walk the distance or pay money to take the Metro. Pray that you sell it quickly, because the first time I see you zinging down the road on it, I am going to destroy you.


Thursday, December 02, 2004


I've already extended the invitation to a few, but now I'd like to do the same for anyone who cares to attend. We, the modest yet ambitious inhabitants of a house in Columbia Heights, are having a Saturday party (under the guise of a week-late thirtieth birthday party for one of the roommates). There is no pretense, we simply want to have a good time with varied music, food, drink, people and various other things. My roommate is the ambitious (neurotic?) one who is going all out, but I'm trying my best to indulge her. I'm thinking of designating my room the chillout room, where folks can seek shelter from the 80s/salsa that said roommate wants to have playing, a room with Bjork videos, even some acrylics if the mood hits anyone. Drop a line if interested, or just show up. Party time sounds ten/eleven-ish.


Tuesday, November 30, 2004


The boys and girls of substance in D.C. have banded together for the greater good of the hungry public. I give you DCFüd, a conglomeration of epicurian commentary organized by post into combinations of six categories (recipes, restaurants, drinks, etc.). At once strongly written and freely editorial, the host of contributors write with humor, ease and plenty of images to supplement the goings-on. Its interest is clear: Füd is as diversely representative of the many palatal interests in which we all revel (in three consecutive entries I find talk of esoteric sob-inducing saké, a recipe for an ample orangesque chocolate mousse, and instructions for making a non-emasculating quiche worthy of pride from metrosexual and hog-farmer alike) as is the city whose citizenry it aims to inform.



Sunday, November 28, 2004

How Washingtonian 

My opinion toward the George Washington University is best described as a state of punctuated equilibrium, if Gould will forgive my borrowing his term; long periods of sameness interrupted by periodic sinister revelations. I thought I would share my most recent punctuation along with implication of my feelings towards using the student body of a university as a mailing list for politically-leaning soirées. My black tie will be ignoring its invitation as well.

Font orgy for Republican rule


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