Welcome to "What Were They Thinking?"

Hello everybody, and welcome to an exciting new feature here at OBPOPCULTREF entitled "What Were They Thinking?" Basically, I mock people who have recently messed up in a big, stinking public way.

Today, we're going to look at five events that demonstrate people who OBVIOUSLY weren't thinking.

Number 5 - This guy in Glen Burnie, Maryland, walks out of the fast food restaurant's bathroom and into the middle of a robbery. Two men robbing the place have pistols and a shotgun. He gets into a fight with one of them, and ends up getting shot in the face several times, but none of the wounds are life-threatening. How on Earth those guys can shoot a dude in the face and not kill him is beyond me, then again, the same can be said for picking a fight with dudes with guns.

Read about it on The Baltimore Sun's Website.


Number 4 - Our wild and zany friends in Iran. Those wacky goofballs got a little carried away in their hijinks and shenanigans and seized a British naval vessel in Iraqi national waters, kidnapping the sailors. All this has done is moved the Middle East into a much larger war zone, only this time with a much-angrier United Kingdom, and more European support. What is it with Iranians and kidnappings? Apparently they had so much fun holding US diplomats as prisoners for 444 days just before the Reagan Presidency, they decided it'd be fun to do it again. I mean, UK, US? What's the diff?

Number 3 - Tony Snow, White House Spokesman and Cancer Patient. Please, Tony, you've done an admirable job. Just get healthy. Republican, Democrat or Independent, cancer sucks. Anybody who wishes anything else but his recovery is a sicko.

Number 2 - Eddie Griffin and movie producer Daniel Sadek combine to form a $1.5 million dollar "What Were They Thinking?" moment. Sadek, an exotic car collector, let Griffin drive a $1.5 million Ferrari Enzo in a charity car race to promote their latest film, Redline.

So Eddie crashed the car into a Jersey Wall.



He'd have been better off letting Griffin drive something a little...oh, I don't know, less rare? Only 400 Enzos were made, and two of those have now crashed in spectacular manner.
http://sports.espn.go.com/rpm/news/story?seriesId=99&id=2814204

And, number 1

ME!

What did I do that was so horribly embarassing? Nothing yet, nothing like my dear buddy Jefe' who decided to pirouette in gym shoes on asphault, and now has a torn meninscus. But, I signed up to be part of the Washington Post's Datelab. I'm getting set up on a blind date by the paper. They pay for dinner, and I get to meet a new woman. All I have to do is go on the date, talk to the woman, and do an interview afterwards. No big deal, but what kills me are the past Datelabs. There seems to be no middle ground there - either the people hit it off and get married in two months, or they never talk to each other again. At the least, I can write a nifty DCFUD article about the meal.

Now, I'm not expecting love at first sight, though that would be something to write home about, but I'm curious as to who they're going to fix me up with. Cute? Pretty? Plain? Tall? Short? American? Foreign? Girl-next-door or exotic woman of mystery?

If they could swing the unengaged Bush twin Barbara, I'd be a big fan.

Anybody but Jessica Cutler, please. Only one blogger per household.

From DCFUD - A Rant by the Five Paragraph Bitter Food Critic

This weekend marked the 34th anniversary of my expulsion from my mother's womb. Friday and Saturday night were set aside for my friends; Sunday was reserved for my mom and uncle, neither one of whom can do shots like my buddy Jeff at the Science Club. My family took me to an anonymous suburban chain restaurant. No sooner did we enter when all the servers gathered together, began clapping semi-rhythmically, and sang their restaurants' version of "Happy Birthday" to a large group gathered for a child's birthday. I shuddered in the same way that I shuddered when I watched the movie Saw - I knew it was fake, but I was scared anyway. My uncle, never an example of tact, tells our server at the anonymous suburban chain restaurant that it was my birthday, and asked what treat I'd get. The young lady, barely college-aged, went into some script I'm sure all the servers there had to memorize, asking me "So, how old are you on your big birthday, big guy?"

Lady, I'm 34 frickin' years old. I've been able to drink legally for since you were in kindergarten. My insurance rates don't get any lower, and I've been able to rent a car without a parent's signature for nearly a decade. My next "big birthday" doesn't come for another 21 years when I'll be able to get cheaper coffee at participating McDonald's.

I hate that fake birthday singing in restaurants. I was in kindergarten when the old Farrell's ice cream parlor in Tyson's Corner had a bunch of singing servers, fireworks, a possessed player-piano and circus sound effects go all Britney Spears-crazy for kids' birthdays. I watched a poor little 3 year-old soil her new dress in fright and embarrassment on her birthday. I felt so bad for that little girl, and while I knew nothing of post-traumatic stress syndrome at the time, I knew a girl who'd need therapy when I saw one. Therefore, on my list of Top Three Annoyances in Restaurants, it ranks up there with Nextel phones going off and screaming, sugared-out kids with no parental supervision. For the record, "food poisoning" and "bad food" would be #4 and #5, respectively. I can understand why Chuck E. Cheese does it, and talented singing is part of Mimi's in DuPont's charm. But when I was a server, bartender and ultimately manager, my one consistent question during job interviews was "is this a restaurant that sings for birthdays?" If so, I moved on. A free dessert or a small discount is one thing; making a public spectacle and whittling down my dignity is quite another.

Is it just me? Do people actually go to anonymous suburban chain restaurants specifically for the birthday singing? What are they thinking? "Nothing reasserts my status in the universe than having a motley group comprised of 19 year-old single moms too naive to use birth control, 21-year-old college students worried about midterms, jailbait hostesses wearing slutty dresses that'd make Lil' Kim blush and table bussers who aren't 100% sure of the song or the language, sing a corporate version of 'Happy Birthday' that really doesn't sound like the real song and includes more hand-clapping and some sort of embedded advertisement to me in an anonymous suburban chain restaurant decorated to resemble either a yard sale gone mad or a Gulf Coast beach because I'm too lazy to actually travel to a real yard sale gone mad or a Gulf Coast beach and receiving a complimentary calorie-laden dessert?" It's about the best I can come up with...unless these are the same people who delight in camping out for tickets for the inevitable "American Idol All-Stars" tour because they really felt their phone calls made a difference whether or not that plucky young hillbilly from Kinhump, Tennessee, with the 36D's and the 36 IQ got propelled into the Top 8.

By appealing to her logic - spending time singing that song to me wastes valuable minutes better spent at other higher-maintenance tables and thereby increasing whatever tips the generally-weaker-tipping-Sunday afternoon crowd offers - I was able to ward off her underpaid cult of clappers. And, given the mega-portions of food the anonymous chain restaurant served, there was no need for the complimentary calorie-laden dessert. Truthfully, I think she enjoyed not singing almost as much as I did. I know it was only one restaurant on one day, a small victory, but a victory nonetheless for those of us who like to dine in relative peace and anonymity.

*************************************************************************************
Normally I assign Whammy! points in this space, but the anonymous suburban chain restaurant is exactly what it is, the food is exactly what can be found at any other anonymous suburban chain restaurant, and the food tasted exactly what you'd expect from an anonymous suburban chain restaurant. No Whammy! was earned; no Whammy! will be given.
*************************************************************************************

Another year older and deeper in debt

Not exactly the birthday weekend I had planned.

I'm now 34 years of age. Mid-30s. Wow. Don't look it. Don't feel it. Don't act it. Need a nap, though.

The weekend started off with a rousing trip to Bravo Bravo for the monthly MeetinDC Happy Hour. I got to see some friends, and I got to cock-block this little bugger named Michael. He was hitting on some girls, so I decided to be a royal arse and tell them the story of how he was so intent on hitting on a very uninterested MiDC girl that he ignored everybody else, to the point of forgetting that he'd met me 5 times in 3 months. I should have told the ladies about how he only dates women with Master's Degrees - I wonder if TESST College has a graduate program.

The night turned quickly sour when Jeff took me to the Science Club. Couple of drinks later, and I was done for the night. Thank God John found me and was willing to take my suddenly-non-rockstar ass home. I also found out that somebody I had always rather liked was a bit of a bitch. Actually, a lot of a bitch. I'll chalk it up to her having a bad night, but I'm also not above thinking that "she's changed, man."

I passed out in John's car. They say tolerance is the first thing to go...great.

Saturday was a waste of a day. It was supposedly gorgeous. I have no idea. Maybe it was. I didn't leave the house until I got dinner at 8:30pm.

Sunday was a hoot. Mom and Uncle Larry wanted to take me out for my birthday, so we went bowling. Mom didn't reserve lanes, and she chose an alley that's 1/2 duckpin, 1/2 ten-pin. So, you know what that means?

KIDS! Everywhere! Sugared-out, screaming and kicking, and running with abandon.

And, here's what I don't get - you ever heard of a bowling alley that doesn't take credit cards? In 2007? Of course, mom forgot to hit the ATM beforehand, so...I had to pay for my birthday bowling.

Uncle Larry, not to be outdone, tells the waitress at the tacky suburban chain restaurant we went to apres-bowl that it was my birthday, and asked what treat I'd get.

Um...Larry. Let me apply this lesson with a Cluebrick.

I hate birthday singing in restaurants.

Despise it. Rank it up there with Nextel cell phones going off in Church and screaming, sugared-out kids in bowling alleys.

Fortunately, I was able to prevent the server from gathering the rest of her cult and singing Happy Birthday to me.

Is it just me? Do people actually go to wacky chain restaurants for the birthday singing? What do they think? "Nothing reasserts my status in the universe than having a group comprised of 19 year-old single moms too stupid to use birth control, 21-year-old college students worried about midterms, 16 year-old hostesses wearing slutty dresses that would make Lil' Kim blush and 17 year-old busboys who can't wait to become waiters to earn the "big bucks", all of whom secretly hate me, sing 'Happy Birthday' to me in a suburban strip mall painted to resemble a Gulf Coast beach because I'm too lazy to actually travel to a real Gulf Coast beach for the real thing and too lonely to have any real friends sing for me?"

It's about the best I can come up with...unless people who enjoy the singing are the same people who delight in camping out for the inevitable "American Idol All-Stars" tours because they really felt their phone calls made a difference whether or not that plucky young hillbilly from Kinhump, Alabama with the 36D's and the 36 IQ got her propelled into the Top 8.

In any event, I managed to avoid the singing and the free calorie-laden dessert that comes with it. Some people like free desserts, but I won't suffer through the indignity of having a bunch of Sunday afternoon diners geegaw at me because 34 years ago today, I escaped from my mother's placenta-lined Gulag like a Stalingrad intellectual during Stalin's reign.

And, to make matters worse, Larry left my birthday gift at home.

*sigh* I guess I'll have to wait before I get a cast-mold statue of Eva Gardner made from old Campbell's soup cans.

My birthday proper was a cause of great joy. Awoken by chirping birds about an hour earlier than my normal wake time, I stumbled into my 34th year on the globe tripping over the ironing board, stubbing the hell out my toe and wondering what else could possibly go wrong?

How about a 30 minute traffic jam on my way to the property manager's office to drop off my rent check?

How about a basic "F-You!" letter from my very bitter ex-girlfriend, who has essentially figured out that all blame in the relationship lies on my shoulders? NOTE - I'm not perfect by any stretch, but to ignore her own failings in the relationship - and to drop the note in my inbox on my birthday - seems a little classless. I'll forgive her, but only because I expected some sort of vitriol from her sooner.

How about a whiny P-gon official who complained that we didn't have enough wireless microphones for everybody in the conference center? I did get an "atta boy!" from an Army LtcCol who heard my quick explanation that "we might have to wait until next fiscal year as the war budget is a higher priority than soft-talkers."

How about a nice letter regarding the outbreak of the Norovirus in Crystal City...after eating a catered lunch from Crystal City?

I did get some nice phone calls and e-mails. Gabe dropped a note on Myspace, as did Stef from NYC. Dana called, Melody in L.A. showed off her craptacular...I mean, SPECtacular singing voice. Notes from Brian, my dear friends here in NoVA, a call from Heath in NYC, Scottie K sent some love.

Hell, even my roommate's cat let me pet him.

And, my friend Gina, whom I haven't seen in nearly 18 months (something else happened 18 months ago...can't remember what...), took me out for a celebratory cupcake at Cakelove/LoveCafe' on U Street in the District. I can only describe Cakelove's offering as this - it's like dating somebody WAY too hot for you. You know you won't last long-term, but God they're fun to eat.

So, all-in-all, it was a birthday. I survived another year on this fragile globe, and despite my best attempts, am still optimistic for 34 and beyond.

More on XM + Sirius

From the fine folks at Engadget:

Apparently when the former Attorney General of the United States is begging you for work, you may want to take it. Otherwise, he turns against you.

So it looks like controversial former Attorney General John Ashcroft is using his remaining influence in the Justice Department to lobby on behalf of the National Association of Broadcasters against the proposed satellite radio merger -- though it seems that he's acting more out of self-interest than anti-trust ideology in this debate, as the Wall Street Journal is reporting that Ashcroft's consulting firm initially approached XM before eventually being hired by NAB. As you might imagine, then, Ashcroft's letter the House and Senate Judiciary Committees was decidedly anti-amalgamation, concluding that "the proposed Sirius/XM merger, which reduces the number of competitors from two to one, raises most serious competition concerns." Of course, now that everyone knows Ashcroft originally intended to shill for XM before NAB "opted to pay him to parrot their views" (according to an XM spokesperson), his "professional opinion" on the matter will probably hold decidedly less weight.

If Ashcroft is against the merger, I am even MORE for the merger than ever before. I am practically oozing XM/Sirius merger vibes.

Yes, folks, the man who brought you the Patriot Act and detained American citizens without due process is against XM and Sirius...though he wouldn't have been had XM paid him.

The man is, for all intents and purposes, a liar, and cheapens the law. A fine example of what happens when people vote for a ticket and a party instead of a person.

Today's Washington Post has yet-another-story about the proposed merger between XM and Sirius. Apparently Congress is real skeptical of a combined XM/Sirius being able to keep prices low and programming fresh.

What I can't understand: Why is Congress only JUST NOW looking at the possible ramifications of a monopoly in broadcasting? Clear Channel, Chancellor, Bonneville, CBS, et al... could buy as many stations of terrestrial radio as they wanted in as many cities as they wanted, eliminate thousands of jobs, stifle innovation, limit format choice and program diversity, and they, along with the FCC, turned a blind eye.

But just because XM and Sirius want to merge, and possibly *need* to merge, suddenly they're looking out for the consumer.

I am a proud XM subscriber. I chose XM over Sirius because I liked the overall music choice and baseball package on XM much more than Sirius' fewer musical offerings and football. However, a combination of the two companies would offer football and baseball, Howard Stern and Opie and Anthony, Oprah, Bob Dylan, Eminem and Little Steven and countless other benefits to the market. Many people who truly enjoy listening to the radio have already switched over - take a look at satrads' TSL (time spent listening) over traditional radio, and terrestrial radio has not improved enough or responded to the changes in the marketplace to win back many converts. HD radio is a nebulous, expensive proposition for many consumers.

Both companies are bleeding money. They both are going to have to either:

1) cut back on talent expenses
2) operating expenses
3) satellite and ground-repeater maintenance
4) increase licensing fees to hardware manufacturers
5) raise monthly subscription fees
or
6) a combination of any or all of the above to survive.

I fail to see how the consumer suffers any more or less if some of these actions are taken by the individual companies or merged company.

To me, the whole issue is a living monster created by the Dr. Frankenstein of the Telecom Act of 1996 and the electrical storm of an FCC without proper focus. They care more about exposed boobs than the competitive marketplace. The record labels complain about falling sales, and radio - still the recording industry's best way of distributing new music - is as stagnant as a dry lake bed. Radio listenership is declining, and the advent of iPods make it easy to listen to music you already own, and hard to find new music to like.

It's the Perfect Storm, but without George Clooney.

Perhaps a more dynamic traditional radio would help the record labels if they had a stronger, more viable competitor in a merged XM/Sirius?

There's more than one way to look at this, Congress.

Great Name, Bad Store

from the fine folks at ZDNet:

CompUSA is going to close more than half its stores.

CompUSA, the computer and gadget retailer owned by Mexican billionaire Carlos Slim, said on Tuesday it would close more than half of its U.S. retail locations over the next two to three months to focus on top performing locations.

-------------------------------

This dude is named Carlos Slim. He's now the 3rd wealthiest man on the planet.

How come I am just now learning of his name?

He sounds like he should be on the World Series of Poker. "And, in the final match, Chris Moneymaker versus Carlos Slim."

Or he's a hitman in a Quentin Tarantino flick.

Either way, rock on with your awesome name, Slim.

And, good call closing CompUSAs. The stores have become pretty useless lately. Too many TVs, not enough computers, and lousy pricing. Microcenter is so much better for PC/Mac stuff from a brick-and-mortar place.

How NOT to do Customer Support

Of all the many jobs I have had, IP network tech is the one I've done the most recently. My roommate and I have Comcast Cable for our TV and Internet, and can't wait for Verizon's fiber optic service to hit my neighborhood in Northern Virginia.

However, I must admit Comcast hasn't been as bad as I feared. I have heard and lived through horror stories of improper billing, bad service and lousy throughput, but things, knock on wood, have been fine for 17 of the 18 months we've had Comcast.

The past month, though, the cable modem has had difficulty synchronizing to the cable network. Cable TV is fine, router is fine, but the modem will just suddenly reset with the connection, and requires a power cycle just to resync with the Comcast network.

My roommate called to their tech support during Super Bowl week. The tech confirmed that the signal between the cable modem and the network was weak. He asked if we could call again when it was completely out. Sure thing.

We did, and again, their first-level tech support said the signal was weak. They'd send a truck out.

The guy was just here. He was, for all intents and purposes, not the swiftest cat they could have sent out. He was a subcontractor (always a bad sign) and said - get this - that our router was causing the problems. I said "How can our router knock your cable modem offline and deteriorate the signal on the Comcast network?" He said "Because your cable modem only supplies one IP."

I said "Right...and the router takes that one IP and supplies us with private IPs. What's your point?"

He said "The cable modem is fine."

I said "OK, then why is it dropping the signal?"

He said "your router burn out cable modem."

I said "Then why does it still work occasionally and the Comcast folks say that the signal coming to the cable modem is weak?"

He insisted that we were connecting too many computers to the router, and it burned out. The cable modem is fine, he said again. For the record, we have a laptop, 2 desktops, a Wii and a TiVO on the network, with a media server and a Xbox as sometime-connectors.

I told him that I was a networking tech, and what he was saying didn't make any sense. Comcast gives us an IP address that we sub out into a private IP range - in other words, exactly what 90% of the rest of their customers do. I asked him to show me the specs.

He fired up IE on my roommate's desktop, and showed the diagnostic screen. I took a look at the network address, saw a Surfboard logo (we have a Netgear router) and said "dude, you're not on our wireless network. This is our neighbor's net."

He said "See? Your cable modem is fine. Look at these diagnostics."

Sure enough, the stats were fine...but it wasn't our network. He was looking at a Surfboard and a Motorola. I told him "We don't have a Surfboard or a Motorola, we have a Netgear and an RCA." I looked at the ipconfig properties of my roommate's PC and saw that they weren't the IP range I put in. He had logged her into our neighbor's unprotected connection.

He told me I was wrong.

I said "Go downstairs, look at our cable modem and router, and you'll see it's a simple mistake. Wrong private network, wrong wireless network. We're on 192.168.1.1 with a SSID of Netgear. You're on 192.168.100.1 with a SSID of Wireless. Big difference."

He again said it was the router's fault. He refused to look at the correct diagnostics.

Now, at this point, I got a little indignant. I pulled up the diagnostics of our cable modem, and showed him the correct diagnostics page, showing nearly 200 sync outages and hundreds of thousands of frame errors, dozens of T3 and T4 errors - all of which indicate Comcast network issues. Those are big backbone circuits - the kinds that hook up entire neighborhoods and office buildings. I asked him "How does our netgear router knock down the much-bigger Comcast network, especially in frame sync?"

He said "Sir, for the third and fourth time, it's your router."

I went off. I explained to him what I have done (designed long haul IP networks and built terminal servers, Digital Subscriber Line Access Multiplexers, Cable Modem termination systems , t-1s, frame relay, OC-X circuits, etc...) and what I do (provide telecom support to the DoD) and that he might want to reconsider his thoughts. I showed him the correct cable modem diagnostics page (of which I took a screen shot) and said "Now that you're looking at the right network, try your analysis again. It's a signal error. A Netgear router is not going to cause TFTP and T-4 errors. Those are cable networking error codes, carrier error codes, not layer 2 and 3 crap from a consumer router to a cable modem."

This went on for nearly 10 minutes. It didn't matter how many times I showed him the errors coming directly from the cable modem, it was our router's fault.

"Sir, it's your router. Too many things hooked up to cable modem."

Only the router is hooked up to the cable modem. He never once went downstairs to see that. He tried to say that Comcast only allows one device to be connected to their cable modem (a flat-out lie if ever there was one).

I told him to get out. I used the F-bomb. I'm not proud of my language, but I expect an on-site tech to be somewhat competent. Don't tell me I'm wrong when you don't even have the intelligence to know when YOU'RE wrong. Even after I pointed out that he was looking at the wrong network, he wouldn't admit he was wrong. He had refused to do his job and would not go look at the router and cable modem itself. That's like taking your Honda to the mechanic, and the mechanic says your Honda is fine because he looked at your neighbor's BMW earlier, and it's fine.

We called up Comcast's tier one support again. They'll send out a new tech who will either replace the cable modem or boost the signal from the network access node. Of course, they have no idea when they'll be able to do that.

We've had spotty internet access for a month now, and considering our cable bill is close to a small car payment (nearly 140 bucks a month), you'd expect a modicum of service.

The moral of the story: Comcast has guaranteed themselves of a new Verizon FiOS customer. Not only is FiOS dramatically faster, they're cheaper.

Now Verizon's PR department - since I know you surf the web looking for anti-Comcast stories, let me tell you this - I have worked for CLECs for 8 of the past 10 years. I've worked with independent telephone companies who have deployed FTTC and FTTH systems, and I know that it flat-out rocks.

The main reason why we're going with you is because you have, at the end of the day, the best product available. If the FCC wasn't so busy looking to fine the hell out of any radio or TV station that dares mutter an expletive rather than investigate how Comcast has repeatedly screwed the hell out of consumers, then there'd never be a need for county utility boards to hold hearings to allow for FiOS competition. They'd BEG for you to step in and show Comcast how it's done.

As somebody who's worked for CLECs for 8 of the past 10 years, I never thought I'd write this - you're not nearly as bad as Comcast.

Breaking News - A Slut Has Died.

I figured the Anna Nicole Smith death would be old news by this weekend, but there is still the breathless reporting style on the cable nets. The Fourth Estate won't let this woman just die until they TELL you every possible detail of it. I wish I knew somebody who gave a rat's ass about it.

I know it's not considered PC to bash the dead, but, here's a woman with THREE different men claiming to be the baby's father.

What kind of a world-class slut do you have to be to have *3* men claim paternity of your child?

They wouldn't be making the claim if they hadn't have had sex with her at about the same time as the baby was conceived. And when she was still alive, she didn't deny any of those rumours too strongly.

Dirty, dirty cooze. That's all that is. If America had any real sense left, her stupidity would be a cause for derision, not celebrity.

R.I.P. iRon

My beloved iron, iRon, has now died.

Cause of death - too hot to handle.

Time of death - right when I needed to iron something this morning.

iRon, our six years together were great. I hope you have a peaceful journey to the landfill or recycle bin or whereever it is dead irons go.

You shall be missed.

From DCFUD.com - Whatever Happened To...?

A few months ago, I set out to chronicle the ways in which Alexandria's charming Del Ray neighborhood can rot your teeth and ruin your diet. An eating tour of Del Ray is a delicious invitation to gain weight and keep your dentist's kids in private school. There's so many fun little eateries in the neighborhood that I felt compelled to break the article into two parts, thereby giving it a more proper review. Part one would be the places I know best, and then after a careful sampling of other places in the area, I was going to write part two.

One small problem with that idea - while my teeth are fine, my diet was ruined. I gained over 15 pounds since I started writing Part II. And those were not "happy pounds" either. Angry, vicious pounds - more bitter than a jilted bride on Valentine's Day and colder than a divorce attorney. I felt Morgan Spurlock's pain. Being a FUD writer Super-Sized Me. I drew a line in the sand a few weeks ago and vowed to be more Dave Matthews than Dave Thomas or Dave Thomas.

In the past year, I've learned 10 unassailable facts about FUD in DC :

1) Del Ray really CAN tack on the pounds, plus the Dairy Godmother is serving Tiramisu AND Thin Mint Cookie custards this month. Courage, my friends.
2) When reviewing beers, candy bars and chili, always mix in a salad. Preferably not fruit salad from a can. And, preferably, not the can too.
3) Don't go to Wegman's when you're hungry. You'll end up with a cart full of food that you don't remember placing in the cart and have no idea how to pronounce. Then you'll drive home for the next hour wondering what in the hell just happened.
4) Don't go to Harris-Teeter when you're hungry. You'll end up with overpriced foods and no idea how to pay for it. Only supermarket I've ever been to that should offer financing and layaway. "Just three more payments and that soymilk is all mine!"
5) The large anything (burger, phở, beverage) may only be a dollar more than the small, but the small will do. Some phở places sell Extra-Large sizes - how can anybody finish one of those and not end up in a food coma?
6) That exercise thing...kinda important. Ever notice how many WSC and Sport & Health Clubs are near supermarkets? If Curves keeps it up, there'll be one in every supermarket.
7) Cakelove's butter cakes need to be brought up to room temperature before serving properly. Don't eat a dozen cupcakes while you're waiting.
8) Every one of those "Limited Edition" candy bars at CVS - meh. Not nearly as good as you'd expect, except the marshmallow Reese's and the Malt and Espresso Kit-Kats. Otherwise...meh. The white chocolates taste like wax and the caramels always seem off somehow. No need to try them - if they were any good, they wouldn't be "Limited Editions" but "Always Available."
9) Latin and Asian markets offer lower prices on meats and veggies and often with better variety. They may not have those bonus club cards, but the staples of a healthy diet are much more affordable. Giant and Soviet Safeway, take heed.
10) You know those people who bring donuts and cakes into the workplace? They secretly hate all their coworkers. They actually wanted a donut themselves, but assuage the guilt by bringing in 11 other sugarbombs to make everybody else fat and lethargic.

So, as I'm sticking to exercise, watercress and protein-shakes, I've been avoiding my normal calorie-rich fare. Regular exercise and a more moderate diet has brought me back down to a more comfortable weight.

I apologize in advance to any reader who lived vicariously through my gluttony, and to any establishment that might notice a sudden downturn in sales. Trust me, I miss you too.

this can't be

We live in a world where Peyton Manning is a Super Bowl winner.

So far, the 21st Century is seriously gord-damned messed-up. In seven short years, it has flipped its middle finger at the 20th Century and pissed in the old century's Corn Flakes.

The Red Sox AND the White Sox have won World Series.

The Seattle Seahawks have been to a Super Bowl.

Once again, the biggest soccer star in the world is coming to America, but this time, he's not graying and 50. He's young, early 30s, and ready to conquer Hollywood.

Plus, his wife is ridiculously skinny and has ridiculously fake boobies. She fits in L.A. perfectly!

America is showing a general interest in soccer. This scares me in more ways than I care to count.

The Wizards ain't half-bad. The best player in the league might well be Gilbert Arenas.

The Caps are playing in front of a largely apathetic home crowd at half capacity. Who'd a thought that the shiny new arena downtown would be worse for them than the hulking suburban bandbox filled to roof 3/4ths of the year?

The Yankees, like the Orioles, Devil Rays, Royals and Pirates, have not won a World Series in the 21st Century.

OBPOPCULTREF infiltrates the Post.com

As I begin my assault to be the ultimate digital mouthpiece, I am starting with WaPo.com chats, and then moving on to bigger fish, like 19 year old girls' LiveJournals.

There's no stopping me.


explaining The Decemberists from Virginia: I have a few The Decemberists tracks on my computer, and I've found they tend to stick out in even the most diverse playlists. I'll admit that the singing is shaky and the lyrics range from poetry to pretentious, but there's just -something- about them - that same something that causes some people to go bananas over ugly damned hairless dogs with bulgy eyes. The average dog owner looks at those mangy beasts and rolls their eyes in disbelief, but the person who loves that troll dog REALLY loves that troll dog.

I guess The Decemberists are my troll dog amongst a sea of Replacements' collies and Trashcan Sinatras' retreivers.

J. Freedom du Lac: This is a very good explanation. Thanks, I really appreciate this one!

Instant Karma Granted

To the idiot with the stupid "Farms are our Future" Maryland tags - coming from a state with next-to-no-working farms in nearly 30% of its land and a future firmly stocked in biotech, military and sprawl - in the reddish, early 2000s sedan on the DC-section of I-395 on Saturday morning. Hope the traffic ticket was worth it.

That road, even under light traffic loads, is not designed for high-speed cruising. Just because it says it's an interstate doesn't mean you can cruise at 90MPH. Too many on-ramps, off-ramps, left-side exits, ending lanes, confused tourists - it's just not an easy drive.

It gets worse when natives decide to crank up their four-cylinders to near Ludicrous Speed. This includes Mr. Maryland Farmer. Maryland Farmer decided to pass me at 75, 80 MPH, a difference of nearly 30 MPH, just before the 395 split towards the Capitol. No big deal - Lord knows I've been passed before - but I was slowing down to avoid a Slow-Poke Country Boy in the City in front of me who was terrified of making a lane change. As he stuttered into the right lane, a Normal Guy on My Left slowed down too, as Slow-Poke didn't have a damned clue. Slow-Poke attempted his right lane change three times, and though he had plenty of room, he got scared, swerved back left, overcompensated, and scared the Normal Guy on My Left. They were at matching speeds at this point, about 40.

Mr. Maryland Farmer decided that he wasn't going to wait for any of this foolishness, and passed me, Slow-Poke and Normal Guy by *MAKING* his own passing lane in between Slow-Poke and Normal Guy. He invented a lane, coming within an inch or so of both vehicles. Given Slow-Poke's timidness and lack of coordination, I'm amazed those two didn't collide - which surely would have gotten me either into the Jersey wall, those two cars, or some combination of the two.

But Mr. Maryland Farmer squeezed through there, and even though I saw it with my own eyes, I'm still not sure how he made it. A half-second either way, and there's a big collision on 395, and the traffic reporters on WTOP would mention the mess that this accident would surely create. He was driving like an asshole - a skilled asshole - but an asshole nonetheless.

Not even a mile later, before the 395/295 split, Mr. Maryland Farmer was pulled over on the side of the road, as an unmarked police officer, lights ablaze, caught his antics, and was putting an end to this one-man reign of road terror.

Of course, being about as gracious as Veruca Salt in "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory," I wound down my window and laughed laughed laughed my law-abiding ass off at him. I've never been so impressed by a police officer's timing before! Mr. Maryland Farmer gave me a dirty look, but he's the one who just watched his insurance go up.

So, Mr. Maryland Farmer - just for the sake of clarity, I laughed at you, and I will continue to laugh at you. I don't know what police agency got that guy, but that was awesome. Great job, Johnny Law. It's not often that Karma is so swift and so accurate.

Feeding the Beast

The far-too-horny doctors on Grey's Anatomy came up with that gem of a term to describe the occasional need for sex. Sometimes, you just need to feed the beast.

In my case, my desire to own more toys than the other kids has led me to more new, wonderful purchases.

You will quickly see the quality of photos on my Flickr account and this blog go up. I just bought a Sony A100 Alpha digital SLR camera. This sucker has more buttons than a sewing shop and I'm looking forward to taking many wonderful pictures...once I find the On/Off switch.

You also might find me soon, bloodied and beaten, at Wii Have A Problem as I have gone out and bought a Nintendo Wii. First games - Madden 07 and Swing Away Golf. Should be fun, though I'm building a protective cover for my TV...just in case.

More thoughts on the NFL

While listening to the sports guy on the radio this morning, I was hit with a "duh!" moment. As in, "Duh! Why didn't I think of this last night?"

The Bears were going to win yesterday's game no matter what the zebras did, as the Bears pretty much crushed the Saints. The Saints tried, but that Bears D is tough, and they had a good offense yesterday. However, the Pats/Colts was specifically decided by the refs. Every call went towards the Colts, and I wondered why. I initially thought it was because of Peyton Manning.

Nope. When Dave Johnson at WTOP said "the first time two black coaches will meet in the Super Bowl," I knew what the story was. No way the Pats were going to win in a close game. Absolutely no way.

I know it's an important societal event that two black men are leading Super Bowl teams, especially considering how it wasn't that long ago that NFL coaching was a job only for white men.

It's just a damned shame that one earned his way in and the other should be at home watching it.

in the words of Comic Book Guy...

Worst.

Officiating.

Ever.

I have never seen NFL referees look like NBA refs. The way the refs gave calls to the home teams in both Championship games today, it looked like Jordan taking four steps between dribbles or Shaq charging the opponent, and drawing a blocking call. Simply horrible calls all day - the Saints lost a fumble after the guy hit the ground, and replays clearly showed him down, and the Colts received more gifts from the refs than an only child on Christmas.

All members of Patriots Nation have to be beside themselves over two interference calls - one against them in which no contact was made; the other not called when the Colts' DB clearly hit the Pat's WR before the ball got there. If I was Robert Kraft, damn the fines from the league and let `em rip! It's pretty obvious that the NFL wanted their Golden Boy Peyton playing against the Number 3 market in the US, Chicago.

I pray that the Bears win the Super Bowl just so I can go an offseason without seeing 700 Peyton Manning commercials.

The NFL should be ashamed - these are the best refs they could find???? Awful, awful job.

This Guy is Near!

I can't bloody believe it.

My new hero, Representative David Wu, D-Oregon, will be in the building today. I can't wait to meet him.

Here's where I'm torn - comedywise, I can control the A/V system to replay his famous Klingons in the White House line, and it would be the Funniest Thing Ever, but, I also want to remain employed.

Damn...I haven't been this torn since I got a free camera for an ugly friend's wedding. I love free cameras, but I had to take pictures of the ugly friend.

No winner...no win.

from DCFUD - TdA

It was no surprise that Taberna Del Alabardero would have a delicious menu for Restaurant Week. The place is synonmous with quality and hospitality in both on both sides of the Atlantic. What I wasn't prepared for was the majesty of the place, nearly dwarfing the quality of the food.

It would be wise for all interior decorators and designers to study the Taberna, to show how a restaurant can "make and entrance" like a movie star. The small, crowded bar area was full of people waiting for their tables or content to munch on tapas. That small waiting area quickly gives way to glorious dining chambers, featuring high ceilings, bold red paint and soft lighting. Tables are spaced far enough apart to lend a sense of privacy, and the design allows for plenty of background noise that never intrudes. The walls are decorated with various paintings, a whimsical hat decoration frames the coat check closet; classic prints from the Old World, and lend to the illusion that the next two hours will be spent in the south of Spain, not two blocks from the White House.

My friends at the table remarked at the quality of the duck mixed in with their field greens. Duck can be a tricky bird to serve, as it can go from soft and flaky to overcooked and gamey with little warning, but the light salt taste and gentle texture gave good contrast to the salad. The white bean soup was complemented with pieces of quail and slab bacon, and I was tempted to order another bowl or three. The mushroom sauce topping the salmon drew raves, while the peppered flank and potatoes were seasoned perfectly. My only complaint was that I should have ordered the white and dark chocolate mousse with almond whisky sponge cake - yeah, I gained a pound just writing that. I ordered the flan, and while it was certainly acceptable, the mousse was clearly the star.

After such a fine meal, Chef Santi Zabaleta's tasting menu looks a lot like my upcoming birthday gift from myself to myself...and it's a lot more affordable than an iPhone!

*************************************************
Taberna Del Alabardero
1776 I Street NW
Washington DC 20006
202-429-2200

Had to comment...WHO VOTED FOR THIS GUY!?!?!

Jeez, ladies and gentlemen, meet your new Democratic majority in the House!

We've been laughing at that guy all over the place at work. He's going to vote on the Defense Budget? Holy Hell!!!

On the bright side, we're all getting new phasers and all generals get one dude in a red shirt to stand near them at all times.

Wow...

"the real Klingons in Star Trek..."

"Faux Klingons???"

DAMN - makes Senator Ted Stephens in Alaska look like a god-derned genius!

And people wonder why I'm bringing back the Whig Party.

No Con-Fusion Here.

The International Headquarters of OBPOPCULTREF located in charming Arlington, Virginia, is covered by an ungodly amount of wall-to-wall carpeting. Two fuzzy cats and two very fuzzy dogs, plus two humans, can give the floors a new layer of shag in just a few days, so a good vacuum is vital.

Jayme, the Official Roommate of OBPOPCULTREF, brought two older vacuum cleaners to the pad, while I brought a newish, though woefully-underpowered Eureka to the vacuum bullpen. So, the two of us had three vacuums to vacuum two floors.

Couple of small problems with that concept - Jayme's vacuums were essentially busted, and my Eureka sucks about as much as a Thai hooker with lockjaw. My limited repair skills (replacing belts and bags) could not make Jayme's vacuums vacuum.

So, I drove off looking for a new rug-cleaning device. First stop - Best Buy. Why? Because I had a gift card, and anything better than a new vacuum cleaner is a cheaper new vacuum cleaner. The odd thing about Best Buy's vacuums was that every single one in stock had been returned. A husband's idea of a romantic Christmas gift for his wife gone awry 50 times over? Dishonest store employees? Everybody checking the power of the Dyson to see if it really is worth a car payment price?

Next stop was K-Mart. Why? Because I haven't been in one in years, and I figured the Sears/Kmart marriage would prove fruitful for vacuums. They had next-to-nothing in stock - apparently this was a big Christmas for vacuums. I was disappointed that all they had were light-weight plastic vacuums. I'm guessing that ever since Dyson came on board and could sell their plastic tornados for over $300 bucks, then why should other makers use metal anymore? Plastic is lighter, easier to cart around, especially on steps, and is easier to ship across the country.

Next stop - Kohl's. Why? I'm not sure. I'm in Kohl's as rarely as I'm in Kelly Monaco. Holy hell is that place expensive! At least 30% more than Best Buy across the board. I moved on.

By this point, I was glossy-eyed, delusional. I saw Wal-Mart. I fought my inner urges, since I recently found out that Jesus probably wouldn't want me to shop at Wal-Mart. I generally dislike Wal-Mart, but I was desperate.

I walked in, saw the obligatory $300 Dyson and $40 Eureka, but spotted the $100 Hoover Fusion. I hadn't seen that model in any of the other stores, but was somewhat impressed by the decent price, motor, attachments and brand. What really sold me was the Superman-style of the plastic parts. I mean, if you can't get Jaws, the old metal Kirby from Mr. Mom, go for whatever makes you laugh. And, to me, the idea of a vacuum dressed as Superman is really damned funny.

Here's the rub - the Fusion bloody hell rocks. That thing can suck up some serious dirt, dog hair and slow-moving cats. I was amazed at what it was able to absorb. I've forgotten what it was like to see a properly-powered device. Plus, it has a special powered tool that makes cleaning carpeted stairs and furniture a breeze. Not bad for 100 bucks.

Given my track record of naming inanimate objects that delight me, you know the Fusion would join my Pontiac Vibe "Raider," and my baseball bats "Excalibur" and "Whombat," my racing bike "Chieftain," my mountain bike "Ack!" and racquetball racquet "Boomstick." The Supervac has been dubbed, fairly obviously, Kal-El.