From DCFud.com - The Five Paragraph Bitter Food Critic is Scared Amongst the Bargains

From DCFud.com

A decade ago, I dated a woman who worked as a grocery store consultant. She specialized in creating traffic flow through product layout and visual displays. I practically grew up in the grocery store my grandmother owned south of Annapolis, stocking the shelves for pocket money as a child, and managing inventory and the finances as an adult when her health faded. I thought I knew a lot about the grocery business, but I got a crash course in Grocery Store 101 from this consultant. Ever noticed how in the produce section uses lots of wood paneling and angled shelves? That's to give the customer the idea that the fruits and vegetables are "fresh from the farm," like they had been packed and shipped that very day. Colorful apples and oranges always get a prime location because they're eye-catching, while the lowly brown potato is regulated to back-of-the-aisle status. The meat section is the same way - higher-priced red meat is displayed prominently in front near the butcher's department, while lower-priced and less-colorful chicken is placed down the row 20 feet away. Seafood often gets its own corner section, as the mark-up on fresh fish and local crab meat is too much of a profit driver to just place haphazardly in the store. These little Jedi mind tricks are part of the subtle ways grocery chains subliminally herd you through the store. The consultant stressed the importance of initial visual impact - to make the store look appealing as soon as you walk in the door. High-end retailers like Harris-Teeter and Wegmans show either their incredibly sumptuous prepared-foods section or their diverse produce section right up front. Whole Foods and Trader Joe's can lead off with their wholesome baked goods or some special exotic food. Lots of new and refurbished Giants and Safeways entice customers with Starbucks locations as you enter. Newer locations of Shoppers like to start off with a large, colorful display of deeply-discounted products, thus proving to their value to the customer.

Then, there's Bottom Dollar Food. They don't have time for all that noise. They just leave a big ole' mess of cardboard right up front. See, Bottom Dollar is all about saving the consumer as much money as possible, so you can either pay a couple of cents for grocery bags, or use the free cardboard boxes. Sturdy boxes used to ship bottled water go quickly, while the small squares used to transport salt shakers are left to wallow. Some of the Bottom Dollar faithful bring their own. Either way, the boxes come in handy to haul away some pretty good deals. Prices are generally quite low - 2 liters of soda are half the price than the neighboring Giant. Fresh meats are about 15% per pound cheaper than their competitors. Produce is about 20% cheaper than the nearby Safeway.

Bottom Dollar is part of the Food Lion family, just like Bloom, which I reviewed in 2007. Unlike Bloom, Bottom Dollar doesn't try to hide its association with the parent company. They proudly sell Food Lion products as the generic options to the big brand names. Also, they don't have near the product diversity or the dutifully restocked shelves like Bloom. It's somewhat strange to see relatively thin inventories in an American grocery store, but that's the case at Bottom Dollar. You won't feel crowded or overwhelmed by the selection. Still, I got a large box of Honey Comb for $2.56 and a pound of frozen Alaskan pollack for $1.99 - about 33% cheaper than other stores.

However, I doubt I'll make regular trips to Bottom Dollar, and it has nothing to do with the products or the prices. It's the attitude. It breeds weirdness. The store is somewhat overly-lit, and their love of day-glo orange and green paint conjures up memories of the washed-out 1970s, and not the fun, coked-out 1970s, either, but of ugly station wagons with wood paneling. There's no background music playing, either - at least, not in any of my trips there so far - and there's something eerie about an almost silent grocery store. It's like the Centralia of shopping.

And, much like the few folks who remain in Centralia, frankly, the natives freak me out. This weekend, a married couple shopped with a Nextel dangling from a lanyard around the wife's neck, pulling double duty as a necklace and a phone. Their conversation with an offspring echoed and chirped throughout the frozen food aisle. And, while I'm thinking of it ...

Hey, Sprint, you want to know why you're taking a beating in the cell phone market? Because you purchased Nextel - THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CELL PHONE EVER! Nextels were cool for like a hot minute in 2000. Those "What if...?" commercials where firefighters run Congress and the delivery people run schools with their Nextels are only slightly less annoying than the new Comcast commercials with the weird monotone singing, bad acid flashback graphics and "The Sims"-like background. And, while I'm thinking of it - Hey, Comcast, I'm glad to see the outrageous amount of money I paid for basic digital cable and internet access for three years went to a good cause, like making THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CABLE COMMERCIAL EVER. I am now a proud FiOS customer, and I pay a lot less to have HD channels *included*, better channel selection, plus much faster internet access, and a lot more reliable service. For the record, the FiOS Guy/Cable Guy commercials are kind of funny. Learn from them, Comcast. Entertain potential customers, not make them think they drank tainted Flavor-Aid.

...sorry, I blacked out there for a second. Anyway, another customer, a man in his mid-50s, I suppose, was buying individual servings of frozen yogurt. Nothing odd about that normally, except this man was buying *A LOT* of yogurt. Like, an entire shelf of it. Like, even Jamie Lee Curtis couldn't eat that much yogurt. I estimated about 50 cups in his grocery cart as I walked past, and I watched him pull another 30 or so cups before the Nextel-couple asked him what he was going to do with all that yogurt. His reply was hardly as sinister as I hoped - "it's good for you!" - and yes, indeed he did intend to eat all that yogurt. The Nextel husband commented later to me in the checkout line that this stuff happens all the time at "Bottom Loser." Much like The Replacements, ironically, I can't hardly wait.

*********************************************************************************************
Bottom Dollar Foods gets 20 Whammies! out of a possible 25. I saved nearly 25% on my grocery bill at Bottom Dollar as opposed to similar trips to Safeway or Harris Teeter. However, I subtracted 2 Whammies! for the freaky Nextel couple, 1 Whammy! for the freaky yogurt guy, and two Whammies! for making me forage through the cardboard box dump to cart off my purchases. Shoppers used to do the same thing until they realized how ghetto that made them look. Take heed, Bottom Dollar...but, man, I do love cheap Honey Comb.
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Bottom Dollar Foods
13 locations between Frederick and Fredericksburg.

Amish Rave Four Play Keepers

ROCKVILLE (UPI) - In what has become the annual highlight of owner Raymond Bradley's fantasy baseball season, his team, the Amish Rave Four Play, have announced the coaching staff for their 2009 season.

"For years, I have stepped up to the dais and announced the names of the men who will lead this team - my team - to fantasy glory," began Bradley. "Notice the key word in that sentence. 'Men.' I have yet to have any shred of success in getting men to run my team."

"This year, I have decided we don't need men running the Amish Rave," said Bradley. We need stars. PORN STARS to be exact!"

At that point, the curtain behind Bradley was opened to reveal a bunch of exceedingly naked people, many of them surgically enhanced to look almost buoyant.

"That's right, America, I'm bring porn back into the mainstream, and what's more mainstream than baseball?" Bradley asked.

One member of the press spoke up and answered "Um, our country's military heroes?"

"That was a rhetorical question, you yak-breeder," Bradley replied. "There's nothing more American than baseball other than porn! We make more porn in the US by 9 AM than most countries do ALL DAY! And all sorts of porn, too, from bored married couples looking to spice things up in the bedroom after 15 years of unsatisfying missionary position sex; from big-budget productions taking place on soundstages with all sorts of unnecessary plot, dialog and costumes; to back-alley sex dungeons in New York offering free streaming web cams of S&M sessions; to naive college girls on Spring Break and the horny 30 year old men who trick them into thinking that showing their boobs for "Girls Gone Wild" is "empowering to women"; to those Iowan strippers in seedy clubs outside of Council Bluffs looking to score a couple of extra bucks with a passing truck driver; from beach bunnies in Miami Beach who enjoy rubbing their firm and possibly-fake breasts on other beach bunnies from Miami Beach and the men who take pictures of them with their camera phones; to all the women who have bought double-headed dildos, video cameras, and who have a dream; and to all the scores of pretty but untalented wanna-be actresses in Southern California who give better anal than they do auditions and who really, REALLY need the rent money and didn't have a fall-back plan; I salute them all!" extolled Bradley, his voice strong, and, in this author's opinion, almost Obama-like in his diction, eloquence and mannerism.

Another member of the press corps, a large, muscular, tanned men who refused to be identified as anything other than "Arod from the New York Yank...I mean Post," asked "Mr. Bradley, I noticed during your speech that at no time did you mention any homosexual men, perhaps the largest audience of porn and a potentially big demographic for your team. How do you respond?"

Bradley calmly put his hands over his ears, and said "blah blah blah blah I can't hear you gay porn ewwwww blah blah blah."

The eloquence had left the building.

Bradley continued with his announcement, as two of the surgically-enhanced women behind him began to grind seductively against each other, causing visible anxiety amongst the members of the press who had gathered at the White Flint Mall for this announcement, except, amazingly, the man known as "Arod."

"This year's coaching staff needs really a minimal introduction. To my right, you've seen him in pornos since the 1970s, and wondered if an ugly, hairy bastard like that can get laid, surely I can too, the Amish Rave Four Play's hitting coach, Ron "the Hedgehog" Jeremy!" exclaimed Bradley, to a smattering of claps and a rousing round of applause from Mr. Arod.

Jeremy took the dais and said "I know *I* can suck myself off; I've now got to teach the Rave *NOT* to suck!"

Bradley went back to the dais, and sprayed the microphone down with Lysol and a Handi-Wipe, and continued with the press conference.

"Our strength and conditioning coach is a legend in the porn world. He too has been banging the hell outta sluts since the golden age of smut, but, has stayed in such incredible shape that he's a natural for the Amish Rave, Mr. Peter North!" said Bradley, again to a bit more clapping and a positively embarrassing display of whooping and hollering from Mr. Arod.

"Thank you for this opportunity," said North. "Do any of you know the muscle discipline it takes to do a reverse pile-driver into the gaping anus of a 19 year old girl from El Segundo? No? I do, and, it's a lot. I hope I can pass on this knowledge to the Amish Rave."

Bradley then went to shake North's hand, but found it to be gooey, and passed on the attempt. Bradley then said that he "...initially approached Jeff Stryker to see if he wanted a position on this team..." but was interrupted when Mr. Arod started cheering in Spanish and waved his shirt around like a drunk coal miner spun a Terrible Towel after the Pittsburgh Steelers got some complete B.S. calls against the Ravens in the NFL in 2008, but, this author digresses.

Bradley then completed his sentence "but the only position he wanted on this team was a sixty-nine!!!" which, at that point, made Mr. Arod ejaculate, and not in the old-fashioned nineteenth century version of the word, meaning "to exclaim," but in the 8th grade health class version of the word, meaning "to blow choad all over the poor dude in front of him." Yes, Arod came all over the back of another member of the press corps at mere mention of bisexual porn star Jeff Stryker. I want you all to think about that.

After a fifteen minute delay as the Rave's groundscrew cleaned up Arod's baby batter from the floor around him, Arod went outside to smoke a clove cigarette, and the guy in front of Arod who took the lion's share of the load to the back of the head went to the locker room to take a shower and ask himself questions, alone, in the shower stall, Bradley continued the press conference.

"Our bullpen is either a source of pain or of joy, depending on the season," said Bradley. "Often, the Rave's bullpen pitchers are not ready to come into the games like they should be, and really drive it home. So, our bullpen coach in 2009 is former Vivid Video fluffer and porn star in her own right, Mary Carey!"

Mary Carey approached the microphone, and promptly swallowed it, which drew many cheers and gasps from the audience.

Mr. Arod booed, for the record.

Without a microphone, the press conference looked lost, but thanks to the quick thinking of Peter North and Ron Jeremy, they immediately gave Ms. Carey a modified version of the Heimlich Maneuver, this one without pants and utilizing a lot more penetration than customary. Within minutes, Mary Carey had faked two orgasms and coughed up the microphone.



"As many of you know, the hard part - heh, I said 'hard' - with this team each year is coming up with a good coach and general manager combination. Few combinations had the panache, the joie de vie, the je nais sais quoi, the deja vu, the comme si, comme ca, the voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and other assorted French phrases like Wade Boggs and John Kruk did during their time with the Rave. So this year, I was really looking to recapture that chemistry. I thought Weird Al was going to bring it for me a couple of years ago. And those other guys who I can't recall....they didn't work out too well either. I went for a couple who I thought extolled grace, the spirit of fun, and the complete lack of sobriety needed to run the Rave. This years' General Manager is the star of suck films - heh, I said 'suck' - I mean, SUCH films as "Cum Buckets! 3" and "Grand Theft Anal 9" Miss Jenna Haze!"

Ms. Haze approached the dais to much cheering and whistling from the press corps, shaking her hips from side to side, clad in a Catholic school girl's uniform with fishnets, a garter belt and a set of handcuffs. Once again, the only man not applauding was Mr. Arod, who was buried in his Blackberry, texting to somebody listed as "M.Donna." Ms. Haze took the Mary Carey-soaked microphone in her hands, and started to slowly lick the shaft.

"I want to make the Rave the hardest team to beat in the league!" exclaimed Jenna as she smacked the microphone against the side of her face.

Bradley reapproached the podium, and slipped Ms. Haze his cell phone number, saying something about "any late night personnel decisions."

"The manager this year is former hardcore star and current mistress and fetish queen Taylor St. Clair. She's got the experience and dominant personality this team needs," explained Bradley.

Taylor took the stage wearing more leather than a biker bar in Sturgis and showing more tit than the San Diego Chargers' cheerleaders.

"We will WIN or I will WHIP THEM!" said St. Clair forcefully. She smacked her whip against the podium, turned around, and gave Bradley a quick squeeze on the butt. She whispered "thanks for the job" into his ear.

At that point, Mr. Bradley called over his groundscrew to clean up around him. Bradley stammered out "Press conference is about to be over. Um, Ms. Haze, can you announce our keepers this year for me?" Bradley asked while trying to hide a massive erection.

Jenna said "OK, here's who we want...badly."

Josh Ham-in-my-ill-tush
Cunter Penis
Chris Ian-my-enda
Dan Uggly
Shane Victor-in-ho
Daisuke Matsuzaka sounds dirty enough on its own
Brandon Webb - too good to mess with
Ty Wigginin-my-bum
Troy Tulowitzkitty
Brandon Morrow-yer-junk-in-my-butt

and possibly David Labia Murphy in case anybody gets hurt.

I'm not clever, but I own a cleaver. Does that count?

Because I'm not clever enough to come up with my own Facebook memes, but just wise enough to change them into my own lil' sub-meme. These are 16 albums that changed my life, and 9 that missed.

First - the Good 16.

16) Faithless - Outrospective. To say this is the best electronica band I've ever heard is an understatement. They make dance songs with meaning...or they make meaningful songs you can dance to. Either way.

15) XTC - Nonsuch. Not their best album, but very whimsical and surprisingly brilliant. It's amazing at how vital this album becomes with every passing year.

14) Kitchens of Distinction - "Strange Free World." You can listen to a million albums, but you will never hear a trio sound so incredibly rich. They do a Phil Spector-esque "Wall of Sound" but can do it on the quietest, loveliest songs. It took me a while to realize the lead singer/songwriter was a gay man, and suddenly all the love songs took on a different meaning. The songs were more than mere expressions of affection, but also of a man trying to come to grips with his sexuality in a world when other artists where still firmly in the closet.

13) Depeche Mode - Violator. Josh Grinnell was the biggest Depeche Mode fan I'd ever met. He was essentially an evangelist for them, as at the time, I didn't care for much of those new-fangled synthesizers. Gimme guitars or go home! I mean, I could listen to some stuff, like DM's "Music for the Masses" or Erasure, but I never had a "whoa..." moment with them. Violator was a giant "whoa..."

12) The Replacements - Tim. The Replacements are probably my favorite rock band, and I loved the way how they straddled between competence and drunken brilliance. I have never cared to listen to many of their albums, though. They always seemed to botch something. Three good songs and then something almost unlistenable. They didn't do that on "Tim."

11) Men at Work - Business as Usual. I bought this on vinyl. This was my second or third album I bought, but the oldest one that survives and is playable. I remember saving my dollar-a-week allowance for a month to buy this. The Christian bookstore by the Old Country Buffet in Annapolis used to be a record store. My mom used to take me on her shopping trips, and she wondered why I would be a monster in the toy store, yet calm in the record store. I guess I always knew. But this is the album that made me figure "Australians are pretty cool" and the fact I had more success as an actor in Australia than I ever did in the U.S. is directly attributable to Men at Work.

10) Shirley Horn - Shirley Horn, with Strings. A local DC woman who was essentially unknown outside her neighborhood, but a legend in the jazz/standards community. A former lover of Miles Davis, her songs played the role of the aging beauty still trying to hold on to strands of dignity and come to grips with her emotions.

9) The Killers - Hot Fuss. I was in Vegas a few times back in 2002. A comic friend of mine back then was getting married; I went to a big convention and expo, and I had a job interview. A friend had told me about this local band playing at some bar off the Strip. I remember thinking "these guys have a good sound, but suck live. I'll bet they're better in the studio." I was right. This album did not escape my CD player in my old Ford Focus for two months, at least.

8) The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds. If you've ever heard it, you'll know why. Amazing production values, great lyrics, incredible mood. That our generation knows them more for that tripe "Kokomo" is sad. They were this close to being better than The Beatles.

7) Prefab Sprout - Jordan, The Comeback. In 1991, I was looking for some good electronic angry music. Something industrial, like Front 242, or Skinny Puppy. I saw a postcard at Oceans II records in Annapolis for a British music dance party. On the list of bands were groups like New Order and Front 242. And Prefab Sprout. I had never heard of those guys, so I picked up "Jordan" out of the used bin. Paddy Macloon is the lead singer and creative mastermind behind Prefab Sprout. He is as industrial as I am a professional opera singer in Italy. But, you've got to have some serious talent to make a pissed off 18 year old go "damn..." with music that has nothing to do with industrial. The Sprouts have been one of my favorites since.

6) Kent - Isola. An album I bought completely based on the recommendation of the clerk at a record store in Des Moines. I was telling him that I'd heard a song on Iowa Public Radio (which, for all you who heap scorn upon my former state, was BY FAR the best alternative-indie-singer/songwriter stations I had ever heard) and tried to hum a bit of it. He goes "you're the third person to ask me that. I think it's these guys" - reaches for Isola - and hands it to me. I put it in my car...and promptly forget to listen to it for three months. When I do, I'm driving through Northern Iowa, it's 17 degrees, snowy, and kids are racing by on their snowmobiles. If there's ever been a better time to listen to a band from Sweden than during an Iowa winter...

5) Van Morrison - Moondance. One of my stepfather's only non-bluegrass recordings, but I nonetheless unfairly lumped this album into the category "If my stepdad likes it, it must suck." Thanks to Katie Craig, now Mrs. Bocock, I saw the error in my ways.

4) Barenaked Ladies - Gordon. It was refreshing to see musicians so talented, but yet so nerdy. Unlike the skinny Brits or the drunken Yanks, BNL back in 1992 were just five geeks from Canada who had like, maybe 10 fans in the states. That they were about 15 minutes away from being the one of the best-selling bands in Canada's history is important to note - they may have gotten more polished with money and fame, but they're still pretty dorky. Although they're not as vital as they used to be, they had a good 15 year run, and their newer music every once in a while hints at the madness they used to achieve regularly.

3) U2 - War. The album that made me thing that maybe politics and history do have a place in rock.

2) The Church - Seance. One of my bigger regrets in life was not being born and raised as a Maine sailor. Maine is a state best known for Stephen King and having a shit-ton of lighthouses. However, there is a ruggedness and bleakness to the terrain that is rather amazing. And, as a 16 year old vacationing with my aunt and uncle in Rockland, Maine, and bringing three tapes with me and my old Sony Walkman, there was no better soundtrack than Stephen Kilbey's voice, Marty Wilson-Piper's guitars and Richard Ploog's drums. Watching the fog roll in over a craggy landscape while "Fly" was playing...wow. Still gets me.

1) Trashcan Sinatras - Cake. The last album I bought in the 1980s, it came out just as the the entire political landscape was changing in Europe, and this album had exactly NOTHING to do with it. It wasn't political, it wasn't loaded with messages, it was simply perfect British pop made up by exceedingly talented Scots, perfectly produced, and blessed with some of the best wordplay ever put to tape. I've had this album for almost 20 years, and every listen gives some new little "ah-hah!" Been my favorite record since I bought it, and has yet to be dislodged.


10 that didn't...

9) Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking/ Ritual de lo Habitual - The band wasn't bad at all, but I have never cared for Perry Ferrel's voice. Some of the songs are great, but, really, Perry Ferrell's screeching killed me. He was much more reserved in Porno for Pyros, and those albums, while not as urgent musically, are much less grating on my ears.

8) The Strokes - Is This It? I like this album a lot. I really do. Strange that I would say I really like an album, but still say it didn't hit. It was given so much indie hype, and was told that it would blow my mind. It didn't. It was good, no doubt, but, it unfortunately launched a spawn of horrific imitators that didn't have the talent or chops. Still, I do like The Strokes.

7) Dashboard Confessional - A Mark A Mission a Brand A Scar - Seriously? THIS is supposed to be an album? If I want to hear crying with guitars, I'll stroll into Guitar Center and show how badly a left-handed person can play a right-handed guitar.

6) Radiohead - Kid A. I can hear the "WHAT???" hipster indignity from here. I like what Radiohead was trying to do. I like the concept, and I appreciate the effort. However, OK Computer is weird, yet listenable. I didn't think it was as brilliant as some thought, but it's a fine recording. Kid A, however, is much harder to listen to, and is weird for the sake of being weird. I'd like to remind Radiohead that "The Bends" is a great album, and nothing to be ashamed of.

5) Linkin Park - pick one, any one. A friend of mine, whose taste in music is usually without reproach, fell head-over-heels for their first album. He extolled their virtues by saying "they don't cuss once!" Well, fuck it, maybe they should. Whine has no place in rock, son.

4) Rage Against the Machine - Rage Against the Machine - I get it, Zack. You're pissed off. You're not going to take it anymore. I've been there, bro. I feel for you. But you make better singles than albums. Sorry.

3) Pearl Jam - 10. I like the idea of Pearl Jam more than I like Pearl Jam. I never got into grunge rock anyway, but I liked Pearl Jam's kinda "no, really, we don't care" attitude. Vs. is a much better album than 10, but even then, I thought Eddie Vedder's singing kind of hurts my ears.

2) The Beastie Boys - License to Ill. This *should* have been perfect for me - a teenage boy looking for some rebellious outlet, and three punky Jewish kids from New York who rap about naughty things. Fantastic! Except...it didn't. It's a fine album, and I like it, but it didn't change my life like it did for others. Never quite connected like it should have.

1) Nivana - Nevermind. Sorry to all those who worship at the altar of Kurt Cobain, but this is one of the most overrated albums of all time. He was truly a talented guy - his uncredited work with Hole proves that he could make crap sound great - but this album was not life-changing. Fuzzy amplifiers, sloppy lyrics - they weren't doing anything I hadn't heard from my stepbrother's old band, and I thought they sucked too. Nirvana sounded more vital on "Bleach" and more sincere on "Unplugged." Never mind.

Sick of Unemployment. Can't Wait to Get Unemployment

It's been six weeks since I last went to work at the Pentagon. I was let go as of January 1st, and even though the economy is pretty much collapsing around us, I was confident I'd find a job quickly.

Um...yeah.

I was laid-off because I did not have a security clearance. The company I worked for knew I didn't have one, knew I needed one, but never put me through for one. Thanks? Any old citizen can not get a clearance; you need to be sponsored by an employer or Government agency. As of January 1, the agency I supported enacted a rule stating that everybody on the computer network needed a clearance, whether the employee had access to secure information or not. So, I was given my walking papers.

It's weird leaving a job. For however brief a time it was, a place of employment becomes that Second Place - it's not home, but you sure spend a lot of time there. You put up decorations in your cube. Carve out a little spot in the fridge for your lunch. Stash some snacks in your drawers. Constantly bang your knees against a horribly-placed keyboard tray.

In the case of my office at the Pentagon, I guess it's because I miss the people. I was very blessed to have met some great folks in my nearly 4 years of contract work. And the people I worked with at the Reservation even more so. A good mix of eager young guys, fresh from school and the retail world, and world-wearied gents with a good eye for detail and memories full of good tales.

And then, poof, it's gone.

I got my notice of being laid-off on December 22, 3 days before Christmas and during my vacation to Florida. Now, the employer KNEW about this change in requirements for the network for at least 5 months, but neglected to tell anybody about it. And when do they decide to notify anybody? Oh, I don't know - 6pm during a week when half the building is on vacation.

Let me give any employers a couple words of advice. First off - did you know it's a violation in many states to lay somebody off over the phone? Such procedures need to be done either in person or in writing. That was told to me by somebody who does HR for a world-wide management firm. Hmmm. Interesting. I did not know that. I got a phone call. Second - if you need to lay somebody off over the phone, don't let some dingbat Valley-Girl wannabe bimbo who only got her job because she's got two boobs and half as many brain cells be your Turk. "Like, I guess, you could like, um, consider this to be like your two week notice!" is not a good phrase to hear, especially when said by a giggling young woman who makes the wasted-sperm retards with pretty teeth and ugly acting on MTV's "The Hills" look positively Mensa-like in comparison. When it comes time to give separation, you need somebody to deliver the news who's more Frasier Crane than Brendon Frasier.

I applied for unemployment assistance from Virginia as soon as I was able to do so legally, back in January. Contrary to popular belief, you do not apply for unemployment in the state you live in, but the state you worked in. As I physically worked in the Pentagon, and, the last time I checked, the Pentagon was in Virginia, hence, I applied for assistance from the Commonwealth.

One small problem - my erstwhile employer, Chronos Systems, despite having a scores of employees based in the Pentagon, does not pay Virginia Unemployment Tax.

Now, as I'm trying to get my security clearance, I'm trying to be as legal and forthright as possible on all my doings. To that end, I followed the letter of the law, and applied for benefits in the state I worked, Virginia. However, even the oh-so-qualified administrative and management staff at Chronos fell into the misconception that I should have applied for Maryland benefits...which, ironically enough, the State of Maryland said "You worked in Virginia, go to them."

Virginia, to its end, has been attempting to get me some money before they investigate Chronos and further delay my benefits. They have applied for a Multi-Jurisdiction Claim, where MD, VA and DC pool together funds for those employees who work in multiple locations across the region. Hopefully that will free up some funding, and I'll get some cash flow coming in again.

As it is now, I'm cashing in an old money market account back from Iowa, which should give me another two months to live on. Hopefully I'll get those funds in the next week or two.

Otherwise, let me simply say this - I am not a sentimental cat. I am fully aware of the business of being in business. Being laid-off is about dollars, not personality. And sometimes, those cuts need to be made at bad times. However, I find it amazing that a Government contractor can openly violate basic employment law; can be completely clueless in the procedure for obtaining a security clearance; would blatantly lie to Federal Government personnel about staff levels and competencies; and would also lie to State Government personnel trying to get a laid-off employee even a base level of economic safety.

Where does this leave me? Out of work and with ZERO income.

Anybody got a job for me? I work cheap.

Lost Episode 2 Live Blog

902 - Hell, Penny's pregnant! Good job, Des. Remarkably clean baby. I've seen one childbirth, and there was more blood there than in a Tarantino film.

903 - Des is telling his young son about the special island - England. Good one.

905 - Ginger is not doing so well. Miles is a hoot - gallows humor, and with sharp enough vision to see the tripwire. And boom. Who's the hot blond with a gun? She knows Faraday. Awww shit, it's ON!

910 - Des thinks he'll be done with the island forever after this. Riiiiight. Apparently he's never watched this show.

912 - The hot blond is back.

913 - Back to Locke, Juliet and Sawyer. She speaks Latin, as do their two prisoners.

914 - Miles can tell that some soldiers were recently buried there. Richard Alpert is back. The ageless one. He says that Faraday is back for his bomb.


920 - Des is looking for Faraday's mom and his lab. Blocked off for fumigation. There's the rat maze, and a comment about that poor girl.

922 - Miles, Faraday and Ginger are apparently meeting a young, mysterious Richard Alpert, who doesn't have all the answers this time. Talk of a radiation poisoning and the bomb.

928 - Locke has people???

932 - Des sees the girl is a coma. Whitmore is involved in the care of her.

934 - The H-Bomb is being suspended above the ground. Strange position. Kinda looks like an old-school bomb drop tower.

942 - Des meets Whitmore again. Whitmore is concerned about his beloved daughter.

950 - F*CK!!! A young Charles Whitmore!!!

957 - Penny knows Des is lying.

959 - Charlotte doesn't look so good.

Hour 2 of Lost

1008 - So, Sawyer's got a new shirt. Dr. Wizard, Mr. Wizard.

1010 - And Hurley almost ran into Kate at the gas station. She's getting a mysterious phone call. Who could it be? Locke? Ben? Her mom? She was the diner waitress, you know?

1013 - Back to Ben and Jack. Ben knows Jack's an addict.

1015 - Previously on Expose - hah! Nice touch. You gotta love a Cheech sighting.

1020 - Cheech is going to help, and the LAPD is hot on Hurley's trail.

1022 - Back to Kate and Aaron, and they're moving on uuuup...to the east siiiide. Or, it's just Sun. My future ex-wife.

1023 - Ben knows a butcher :) Now I'm hungry for a steak. Thanks Lost. I just made fajitas, but I could use a nice, medium rare steak. Then again, I always can use a steak.

1024 - Back to the island, and Faraday's making calculations. His redhead is still wounded. And flaming fuckin' arrows??? Sheesh! Now who's on the island? Romans?

1030 - More flaming arrows. Some extras got lit up.

1033 - Kate and Sun...normally a hot thing, but Sun seems crafty to me for some reason. Nice lil' cameo for Jin.

1035 - Jack. Ben, Hurley, Sayid... it's almost chaotic at this point.

1041 - Hurley and Mom. Hugo's telling the truth to his mom. She's not going to get it. And this is the perfect description of the show for people who've never seen it. It really does sound silly when it's said aloud. But that's about right. Nice little mom and son moment.

1046 - Sawyer needs shoes, and there's a guy with a gun. Ethan? Nope. Dharma Initiative people! They went WAY back in time.

1050 - Back, and Jack's going to try to save Sayid. Kinda nice having a surgeon around. What is it with ABC and surgeons? Grey's Anatomy...anyway. Jack's brought Sayid back.

1052 - Hugo just chucked a Hot Pocket at Ben. Classic. Ben's offering Hurley a hell of a deal. Ben's got Crinkle Eye power as well! But Hurley's gone and ran off and is being arrested by the cops.

1055 - Locke to the rescue - damn he's handy with a knife.

1056 - A new station. Seems the island is bouncing around the Pacific Ocean off the Australian coast and towards South America. Weird. Bouncing through space and time? Ben's apparently Catholic, and he's found the lady from Desmond's shop, and she just out-creeped Ben! Cue SFX and SCENE...


Stay tuned for a preview? Sure.
Kate's skeptical, Red's bleeding, and somebody is pregnant, and another dude is getting dragged down the street. Chaos.

Live Blogging Lost's Season Premiere

First off - YES!!!

901 - Willie Nelson, and the Dr. Candle is back. Orientation film.

Cameraman looks like Sawyer.

There's Hurley's van...by way of Ben's dad.

904 - Limitless energy.

WHOA!!!! First "Oh holy hell moment of the show!" Faraday.

Back to the recent present day. Locke's in the funeral home.

They're heading back to the island. The Orchid must be one hell of a valuable station.

907 - Back to the Orchid at the time of the move. The first shirtless Sawyer scene for those keeping score. Rose and Bernard are back. Shame the camp's gone.

So, much like Huey Lewis once said "Back in Time."

914 - Kate and Aaron, and a couple of lawyers. They want blood...samples, at least.

916 - More shirtless Sawyer. Trying to take Faraday's shirt? Ha...like he'd fit. He's got him by 40, 50 pounds.

918 - Locke's got crinkly eye power. And he's sunburnt. Poor dude. He just got North by Northwested by Eko's brother's plane. And he's got Charlie's Virgin Mary heroin. And he just got shot - could it be Rousseau...no! Crap! This is getting MESSED UP.

Commercial V/O'd by Jack Bauer.

924 - Locke's about to be shot by Ethan. And more shirtless Sawyer.

925 - Hey, there's my future ex-wife, Sun. My goodness she is lovely. Well, she's now trapped by the big guy.

928 - Hurley can't be dead - he's eating fries. Hah, he needs a cool code name.

931 - Sayid can still FSU.

935 - back to the Island - and the Hatch is gone.

936 - Locke's still shot...poor dude has been shot more than 50 Cent. The plane has fallen, therefore, there might be a dead Boone around. Aw crap, who's coming for Locke now? Richard, the ageless one. "When am I?" - great line. Hah...a compass. It points north. Damn, that's some cold shit - you're going to have to die, John.

This episode is quickly becoming a mind-f*ck.

946 - and we're back, and the hatch was gone, Sawyer's still shirtless, and the hatch is now back. And Sawyer doesn't want to listen to logic, he just wants his clothes back. Hah, the Ghost of Christmas Future! Another good line. Faraday's concerned about his bleeding girlfriend's nose. Hey, Desmond!!! He's got a gun, and the toxic suit. And Faraday just dropped a mind-f*ck on Desmond, and there's Penny as he's back in present day. And they're off to Oxford. Wow.

957 - Back to the Oceanic 6, and they're on a boat. Good ole' Frank's back. And they're back to the new present day, and Sayid's still shot up. Holy hell, Anna Lucia - wow. And Libby says hi. JEEZ...mind F*CK! And SCENE....

My goodness. That's a season premiere. Looks like they're going deep into the conspiracy-side of the show. Hopefully they won't get too X-Files on us.

from DCFUD.com - The Five Paragraph Bitter Food Critic Needs Beta Blockers

Not even three weeks into the new year, and I already have a serious contender for the highly-uncoveted title of "Worst Restaurant Meal of 2009." If this meal had taken place in 2008, it would have won like Usain Bolt. If I'd had this meal in 2007, it would have won like Barbaro in the `06 Kentucky Derby. Only a couple of burnt hamburgers-slash-hockey pucks in Des Moines and a ridiculously spoiled swordfish fillet on undercooked linguine in Baltimore's Little Italy keep this debacle out of the "Worst Restaurant Meal of the Double-Aughts" status. And here's the kicker - it started off fine but, man, how it proceeded... nothing less than a sin against all that is holy and deep-fried. I shall explain.

A shopping trip in the Virginia `burbs with a friend ran much later than expected, and the Vietnamese place we wanted to try had long closed by the time we walked into the frigid air. Hungry and cold, we settled on a nearby local chain, Glory Days Grill, figuring a warm meal in a lively atmosphere would help lift our spirits. I've had decent salads from there before, so it seemed like a good idea. The menu is nothing fancy - standard bar grub but with a Chesapeake twist - Old Bay seasoned wings and real Maryland crab cakes are a nice touch - and with local professional and amateur sports teams' paraphernalia on the walls, proves that this is a restaurant based here and focusing on here.

Much like "Wedding Crashers," the meal began promisingly enough. A cup of clam chowder was filled with plenty of fresh seafood and seasoned correctly. But remember that breakfast scene with Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, and the movie seemed to lose a lot of steam? Well, the same thing happened with this meal, except much earlier in the film. The appetizer was the breakfast scene, with no Will Ferrell around to save the meal from disaster.

Now, as a rule, it's hard to botch fries. Les Pommes Frites are about as common and simple of a food as can be found. Cut the potato in to strips. Fry the potato strips. Drain. Serve. Boom. Done. If you're feeling zany, bake them. Bread them. Make them curly and season them. Bury them in gravy, or cheese, or go crazy like the Quebecois and use both and call it poutine. Just don't serve them how I got them Friday night - apparently marinated in salt, cooked in salt, coated in salt, and then, for good measure, add salt. I used to bartend at a margarita joint, and we had boxes of sea salt that we used to rim the glasses. A prankster co-worker poured about a cup of sea salt into my Starbucks one day, and that wasn't as salty as these fries. I now know what a deer feels like during hunting season. I have tasted the salt lick, now, where are the guys in camouflage jackets and bright orange hats?

Sadly, our entrees were equally salty. My friend's chili mac made her mouth pucker as the saline sucked the moisture from her skin. My chicken sandwich was ridiculously overseasoned, and I might be mistaken as the sodium-induced dehydration is affecting my short-term memory, but my side dish may very well have been the Bonneville Salt Flats. When the server asked if we wanted dessert, one thought permeated my mind - I normally love Teaism's delicious Salty Oat Cookies, but I had one right now, I would have an aneurysm. Seven hours later, and nearly half-a-gallon of water later, I still might. We skipped dessert, much like the arrhythmia is doing to my heartbeat.

********************************************************************************************************
Glory Days gets 2 Whammies! out of a possible 8. The clam chowder was certainly acceptable, and the server was fairly snappy with refilling our water glasses. However, between the two of us, there are 8 chambers of our two hearts that now need replacing. No one should ever have this conversation after a meal - "My heart hurts." "Yeah, mine too. Know a good cardiologist?"
*********************************************************************************************************

Glory Days Grill
Lots of locations in the region, many of them conveniently located near emergency rooms and defibrillators.

The Racist With Scissors Next To My Head

I don't get my hair cut too often. As a mid-30s man, I feel a certain sense of smug glee when I see many of my younger friends with a shiny pate as I hide behind a veritable Eagle's Nest of hirsute glory. My hair is thick, healthy, and shows no signs of graying - yet another point of self-satisfaction.

However, it has one bad problem - the longer it gets, the curlier it gets. And the more product is required to get it to behave without going into "Seth Rogen" territory. I've been described as looking like Mr. Rogen twice in the past couple of months, which reminds me to watch my carbs and possibly investigate a new hair color. Until then, I figured that since my last haircut was in June, it was time to shear the locks.

Now, mind you, this was a complete "timing" deal - I've got a couple of Christmas parties coming up, and I should look a little more "Superbad" than "Knocked Up." And as much as I love my hair, I'm not one of those guys with a hairdresser. I usually go to a barber or Mallcuttery place and see what happens. There's usually nothing that they can do that some gel and a hat and a couple of weeks of "yeah, I got a bad haircut" can't fix. I decided to go to a local Rockville salon, see which ones looked like they could give my hair the love and attention I seldom give it. Frankly, I'm amazed my hair hasn't left me for somebody who would treat it with more dignity and respect. I guess, at the end of the day, it loves me. I decided to treat my hair to a real salon. It's not enough to say "I'm sorry," but it's a good first step. Let the healing begin.

I started my Tour des Salons Dans Rockville by checking out the strip mall next to White Flint Mall on Nicholson Lane. The first salon is named something like "Salon" and had a sign declaring that they'd be open until 7:30. There was one person in the place getting her hair done, and two employees. It's 6:30, surely I could get a haircut within an hour! Except...the door was locked, and the attractive woman with little English skills told me they were closed. "But, your sign says 7:30," I stammered but she was closing the door and asking if I could come back tomorrow. Well, there are two other salons in this strip mall. I'll shop around.

Salon #2, Art and Chemistry appears to be their name, is four doors down. The people inside looked happy and attractive. Not busy, but signs of activity. My hopes were high. There was no sign on the storefront indicating hours, so I walked in and asked for an impromptu haircut. "Sorry, we don't take walk-ins after 6 on Wednesdays," they told me. I asked what time they closed. "8," was the reply. "I can't get a haircut in two hours?" I asked. "No," the young blond girl behind the counter replied, but unhelpfully added "We could do it on Tuesdays or Thursdays, but not Wednesdays." I have no idea why they have a bias against Wednesdays, but, wow. I headed over to Salon #3, Oxygen Salon - which wasn't even open to be snubbed by.

I got in the car and checked out Fatima Salon across the street. They were closing up for the night, but their sign indicates, in Spanish, that they speak Spanish, and the Men's Haircut Guide poster in the window had more bad clipper cuts displayed than the second season of "Oz." I moved on.

Salon #4, Urbanity, also on Nicholson, seems to be out of business. I didn't get a chance to be turned down there as well. Salon #5 is next to the Safeway by my house on Randolph Road. I pull up at 6:59pm. The sign says they're open until 7pm on Wednesdays. The place was completely closed. No signs of life until 10am Thursday, if the sign is to be believed. Salon #6, Progressions, is on Nebel by the Gold's Gym. I drove up, and saw that they were closing down as well. Sorry to disappoint my hair, I turned to the White Flint Mall, as the options for a Wednesday night haircut were quickly slipping.

White Flint used to be the fancy mall around these parts, but Westfield's Montgomery Mall has more stores and less cheesy Miami Vice neon around the foot court. White Flint used to be packed all the time. I shouldn't be able to find parking next to the door this close to Christmas and Hanukkah, but I had my choice of spots. I walked in, looked at the trusty mall directory, and saw two places to get my haircut. One of them seemed to be an independent place, and the other was part of a chain. I chose the indie place. First thing I saw was a cute young brunette at the counter, and a gay dude styling a pretty West Asian woman's hair. I would have to assume that a gay man is a good sign for a salon. I was told by the young girl that I could have a haircut, no worries, but it would take about 15 minutes for the stylist to get to me. "Fine," I say, as the last thing I want is to drive around Rockville any more than I already have.

I leaf through the picture books of "Men's Hot Hairstyles." We need to come to an understanding here - are these picture books for men to point and grunt at the look they want, or for gay men and women with a fetish for Eurotrash to drool over? Because there wasn't a single haircut and/or model in either of these guides who didn't look absolutely ridiculous. Some of the cuts were straight from "A Flock of Seagulls" or Jaromir Jagr. None of them I wanted on my head.

Fortunately, my hair stylist of the evening was much more sensible than that. She noted that I like my hair a little on the longish side, and that the curls were annoying me. She said my hair looked nice and healthy, and she'd give me something that wouldn't make me look bad or too old. She was about 60-something, but trying like hell not to look like it. She told me about her kids and how they're dragging her off to Mexico for a vacation over Christmas. We talked about how a postal worked was assaulted in Rockville. Neighborhood stuff. She made a comment about how Rockville would be great if there weren't so many idiots around. I liked this woman.

Well, until...

(you knew there'd be a "well, until..." coming up, right?)

Well, until...she asked me what I was doing for the Inauguration. I said that I was probably going to head out of town, avoid the crowds, get some skiing done. She said she'd be scared to come into the city. I said "Yeah, with anywhere from 2 to 6 million people, depending on who you listen to, coming into town, it could get crazy." She says to me, into the mirror, the way that many hair people seem to do, "I mean with all the...um, racial things. All the minorities."

Huh?

WHAT???

I tried to explain that the last time DC had a massive amount of black folks in town, the Million Man March, there was very little crime, and in fact, was one of the most civil weekends in the city. And, that given that lots of folks voted for Obama of all stripes and colors, it would be more of a celebration than anything. She shrugged and did a shiver in fear.

Last time I checked, Maryland was pretty racially diverse. And Rockville is hardly lily-white by any stretch. I swear, look in any direction and you'd swear you're in a Benetton ad.

We didn't talk as much after that, as it was pretty obvious that she knew that she'd crossed a line. I changed the subject, and she mentioned Mexican vacation again. I wasn't offended, but merely shocked at how casually she said that about President-elect Obama and the potential for violence. Because Lord knows every other Presidential Inauguration has been plagued by violence.

Maybe that's why I don't have a steady hair cutter - I like the social interaction with the awkward and the freaky.

I paid my bill, left a standard tip, and left. The hair cut looks good so far.

The irony in the whole thing resides in the name of the salon - Rainbow.

What I learned last night...

Next time you hear somebody doing what you *THINK* is a top-notch vocal impersonation of Christian Bale as Batman, that deep, throaty weird thing he did - and you applaud the guy doing that voice - check to make sure the guy doesn't have a damned tracheotomy hole and tube.

I did that last night.

I wondered why he could do the voice so well.

I apologized, and he was very gracious about it. I felt bad...but not as bad as his throat does.

From DCFUD.com - Somewhere in South Park, Colorado, a Young Boy Cries

The Wall Street Journal is reporting that the many locations of the national chain restaurants Bennigan's and Steak and Ale are closing as of today.

The article states that the chains' parent company, Metromedia Restaurant Group, has declared Chapter 7 bankruptcy on those two themed restaurants, and that company-owned restaurants were ordered to not open for business today. Franchise-owned stores are not named in any bankruptcy filings, so they may remain open.

So, for those hankerin' for some Death By Chocolate, you may want to call ahead to make sure your location isn't, like, closed.

Bennigan's biggest fan, Butters, could not be reached for comment.

The article points out that these closings are yet another sign of trouble within the mid-price chain restaurant category, but I'm guessing it's also proof that brass rails and huge portions can't overcome bad food forever.

Define "Irony" or "Delusional" - either one works

Somethings I can't even dream up...and I'm messed up.

From PageOneQ (link coming soon)


Sens. Larry Craig and David Vitter co-sponsor Marriage Protection Amendment

Two United States Senators implicated in extramarital sexual activity have named themselves as co-sponsors of S. J. RES. 43, dubbed the Marriage Protection Amendment. If ratified, the bill would amend the United States Constitution to state that marriage "shall consist only of the union of a man and a woman."

Sen. Larry Craig (R-ID), who was arrested June 11, 2007 on charges of lewd conduct in a Minneapolis airport terminal, is co-sponsoring the amendment along with Sen. David Vitter (R-LA).

Craig, who entered a guilty plea to a reduced charge of disorderly conduct, was detained and charged for attempting to engage in sexual activity with a male undercover police officer. His arrest and plea became public two months later. At that time, Craig attempted to withdraw his plea and enter a new plea of not guilty. To date, his efforts have been denied by the courts.

In July of 2007, Vitter was identified as a client of a prostitution firm owned by the late Deborah Jeane Palfrey, commonly known as The DC Madam.

With a Democratic controlled Congress it is unlikely the bill will be brought up for a vote in either the Senate or House of Representatives.

A voice mail left for Craig spokesperson Susan Irby went unreturned. Attempts to contact Vitter's press secretary Joel DiGrado were unsuccessful.

The full text of S. J. RES. 43 follows:
#

110th CONGRESS 2d Session

Proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States relating to marriage.

IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES JUNE 25, 2008

Mr. WICKER (for himself, Mr. VITTER, Mr. CRAIG, Mr. ROBERTS, Mr. INHOFE, Mr. BROWNBACK, Mr. ALLARD, Mr. THUNE, and Mr. SHELBY) introduced the following joint resolution; which was read twice and referred to the Committee on the Judiciary

JOINT RESOLUTION

Proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States relating to marriage.

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled (two-thirds of each House concurring therein), That the following article is proposed as an amendment to the Constitution of the United States, which shall be valid to all intents and purposes as part of the Constitution when ratified by the legislatures of three-fourths of the several States within seven years after the date of its submission by the Congress:

"ARTICLE"

Section 1. This article may be cited as the Marriage Protection Amendment.

Section 2. Marriage in the United States shall consist only of the union of a man and a woman. Neither this Constitution, nor the constitution of any State, shall be construed to require that marriage or the legal incidents thereof be conferred upon any union other than the union of a man and a woman.

From Awful Announcing: Christian News Site Automatically Changes World Record Holder's Last Name From Gay To "Homosexual"

Please save me from your Internet Service Providers.

Christian News Site Automatically Changes World Record Holder's Last Name From Gay To "Homosexual"

Awful Announcing: Christian News Site Automatically Changes World Record Holder's Last Name From Gay To "Homosexual"

I had a minute, so...

I maded u a lolpr0nz, but I didn't eated it.

Dear Florida...

You may go now. Seriously. I'm not joking. We're sick of your sexy teachers molesting teenage boys. We're sick of your inability to count, recount, or make a decent ballot in the first place. We're sick of your lack of support for any baseball team other than the Yankees when they come into town. We're sick of CSI: Miami. We're sick of you turning our formerly-hip, intelligent aunts who rawked when they lived in DC into paranoid old bitties who think Obama is a jihadist spy and forward every religious saying, urban legend or chain-letter email with an animated gif of a glitter-covered puppy waving with the oh-so-witty caption of "I Wuf You!" We're sick of seeing YouTube videos of little old men plowing their `79 Buicks into taco stands because they got "confused" and thought it was Hitler waving to them, not a 15-year old immigrant boy dressed as a giant friendly chalupa.

Actually, I rescind that. Those videos are priceless. Keep `em coming.

You, Florida, as a state, just accused a man of "wizardry." It's 2008, not 1408. I have seen many, many things in my 35 years and spent several vacations in Florida. The only wizard I saw in Florida was a dude in white sheets bitchin' about how black people were takin' over the state. Dude apparently has never been to Miami, or, slim may have been a lil' off in the "color detection" department.

But I digress. The teacher does a magic trick to make a toothpick disappear. The only thing I've head disappear in Florida were voting machines and ballot tabs from black neighborhoods in the 2000 election.

If Canada is America's Hat, it doesn't take a dirty mind to figure out what part of the body you are.

On behalf of the rest of America, for your sins against all things that are wise, educational and evolutionary, you can leave. Secede, go back to Spain, become part of Cuba, be Puerto Rico's little bitch - hell, join the Ice Capades for all I care.

Just go.

Oops...

There are three professions in which "oops" should never be said.

1) Airplane pilot.

2) Piano mover.

3) Hair stylist.

My long, flowing locks...gone.

I knew I was in trouble when I asked for a trim. Just a small trim. Clean up some of the more aggressive curls in the back. The woman cutting my hair used clippers to get rid of a few of them, and then, my head snapped back and to the right like JFK's in Dallas. The clippers grabbed a hold of my hair and yanked out a chunk about the size of a good golf divot. I looked at the clippers as the device ate my hair, and wondered what evil madman developed such a vile, barbaric tool.

On the floor, my hair rested. In the chair, my neck and scalp gave a bit of a groan for being nipped, then, a sense of shock hit me as hard as I imagined the hair hit the floor. I felt, for the first time in months, cold and fresh air hitting the back of my scalp.

The woman, Asian, about 50, said "oops."

I said "What happened?"

"Clipper snagged," she said curtly.

I had explained to her earlier that I wanted to grow my hair out to make a wig for a cancer patient, and just needed a small trim to clean me up.

What I didn't need was her saying "Lookie how hansome you look!" and grinning like an idiot.

Now, this is where I should explain something - I love the fact that America is a great big melting pot. All sorts of nationalities and ethnic groups in this land gives me a sense of hope and joy. But the woman who cut my hair - with her pidgen Engrish and overdone voice and facial expressions in the vein of Margaret Cho making fun of her Korean mom - turned me, momentarily, into a violent, raging Republican. "THE IMMIGRANTS ARE TAKIN' OUR JOBS!! BUILD THE WALL!! SCREW THE U.N.!"

I looked in the mirror, and saw me looking back, but not the 2007/2008 version of me. It was more like the 1998/2004 version of me, the "trying to get ahead in the corporate world" version. The high-strung, kinda pissy version. That was not my favorite Me.

Still, stunned as I was over the loss of me beloved, flowy hair, I said "What is this?? I asked for a trim! This is not even close to what I wanted!"

She said, and I wish I was joking, "you no look like girl no more."

My temper boiled over. I'm 5'9" and 205 pounds. I have facial hair. I'd be one large, ugly, hairy woman.

So, I did something that I haven't done in years. I asked her to finish up, and I walked out.




Coming soon, a tribute to my hair.

Slack-Assed Blogger Apology

Food - ate at Colorado Kitchen and revisited Matchbox. Both are fine places, no doubt

Also ate at KFC. I may have to mention that Patton Oswalt warned me. Why did I doubt him?

Drink - Rogue Chocolate Stout....mmmmm....

Women - yeah

Dogs - Kramer and Bubby say "hey."

Arizona - damn...cool state.

Links and stories coming soon.

The Greatest Thing in the History of Ever

From the fine website Gizmag.com - a canned cheeseburger. God bless those crafty hiking Euros.

I want two of them. Now. Then again, I'm hungry.

Be My Yoko Romo!!

Thank you Dan Patrick for coming up with that fantastic name, and, I've come up with a ditty for you Barenaked Ladies' fans.

It's a great day when I can mix my love of the NFL with my love of Canadian geek pop.

In honor of Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo,

Be My Yoko Romo
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If there's a pop star you can just bang out, then do so.
And if theres a quarterback you can just wear out, then do so.

You can be my Yoko Romo
You can follow me to Mexico
Be my, be my, be my Yoko Romo.

Isn't it beautiful to see two people so much in lust?
She's dumb as a brick and his games' gone straight to rust.
Now that he's lost again it doesn't seem to me to be too damn bright.
To have her bouncing off your knob instead of watching football tape all night

You can be my Yoko Romo
You can follow me to Mexico
Be my, be my, be my Yoko Romo.

Oh no, here we go, Tony can't get it done.
Oh no, here we go as Romo throws
Aieee!

I know that when I say this,
I may not be taking too much care.
But I laughed my fool ass off
When she got dumped by John Mayer.
(I'll blame it on Yokey!)
If I was Tony and you were Yoko,
I would gladly give up all football genius,
Just to stick my tongue down your bald mons venus.
(hit it!)

You can be my Yoko Romo
You can follow me to Mexico
Be my, be my, be my Yoko Romo.

from DCFUD.com - The Five Paragraph Bitter Food Critic's look back at 2007

One of the problems with developing a writing persona named the "Five Paragraph Bitter Food Critic" is maintaining that mantle of bitterness even when surrounded by a sea of competence, class and quality. When I started the 5PBFC, I figured that given my average of 4 meals out a week, I'd have at least one clunker a week, thus providing DCFUD.com plenty of bitter material. However, as I looked over my 2007 notes of the year, I discovered something quite shocking: I had ten bad meals the entire year; and six of them came from two places, Bangkok 54 and Dad's Backyard Burgers. That means the vast majority of my meals were anywhere from "decent" to "incredible." It's hard to complain about such a high batting average.

Now, I should go off on how absolutely disappointing Dad's was. For a store that took nearly 3 years to build, I would have hoped for a burger experience that doesn't taste like a green onion explosion. My first bite there was sadly the best; repeat visits were lousy and hardly worth mentioning. I'd love to support an independent burger joint, but their burgers tasted more like a kabob-spiced meatloaf - they may want to think about competing with nearby and always packed Merrifield Kabob than routinely-good Five Guys and sometimes-brilliant Elevation Burger. As for Bangkok 54, the former shining star of Northern Virginia's Thai dining scene has declined in terms of food quality and handling; prepare to give birth to a food baby if you eat there and don't stray far from the restrooms, just in case. Their dining room is lovely; it's a shame the back of the house is having issues. They easily have been eclipsed by longtime stalwart Duangrats at Bailey's Crossroads and the newish Mint further up Route 7 towards Seven Corners (review coming in 2008, a.k.a. next week).

However, I will concede to the goodwill of the Christmas season to concentrate on the positive. My dining year started off on a high note with the DCFUD.com staff at Bobby Van's, followed by a delicious Restaurant Week experience at Taberna del Alabardero. 2 Amys continued to churn out quality pizzas, Ella's did the same, and the chainy-but-good ZPizza offered a delicious pie with high quality ingredients for a decent price. Matchbox's dining room expansion didn't dilute the quality of their food one bit, and the District Chophouse provided a fine meal in a casual, but classy, environment. My well-publicized visit to La Perla offered better tortellini than expected, and Georgetown's Filomena may be considered hit-or-miss, but I had two hits there in 2007, and enjoyed their good Sunday brunch, too. The new Liberty Tavern in Clarendon offered surprisingly good upscale bar food, though those looking for a quiet meal should head elsewhere - that place is louder than the wails of a screaming child at a southern Wal-Mart. Eamonn's proved to be a welcome addition to the Alexandria scene, and I'm anxious to try owner Cathal Armstrong's makeover of The Majestic with Shannon Overmiller's cooking on King Street in 2008. Hank's Oyster Bar in DC stars in the background with Trio in a new car commercial, and a new location in Old Town is promising. Fogo De Chao and Texas De Brazil fed my churrascaria dreams of well-seasoned Argentinean meat, and Macchu Picchu did a fine job representing South American neighbor Peru. Huong Que at the Eden Center served fine Vietnamese fare on multiple visits, and impressed some good friends from Chicago. Spices in Cleveland Park did a good job of clearing my sinuses while on a first date - yeah, thanks for that, by the way. No, that wasn't embarrassing at all - but damn it tasted fine, and nearby Indique's tamarind-enhanced drinks made even the rainiest of days much more delightful.

Bebo Trattoria opened up with much fanfare in Crystal City, though complaints about lousy service stick to the place like stink on a hobo. The Tortoise and the Hare opened up on Crystal City's 23rd Street, taking over the former space of Stars and Stripes. Can't say I'd complain about that a bit - Stars and Stripes had a big TV and good beer but a lousy crab cake, and T&H is promising a good American contemporary menu. Urban Thai still served quality food at a reasonable price, and the recent expansion of the Crystal City Sports Pub just gives more folks a chance to dine on their good bar food while following their favorite sports' teams. Summer's at the Courthouse Metro did the same, plus they put with my wails of anguish every weekend as I watched my beloved Ravens go from Super Bowl contender to laughing stock of the NFL in one calendar year. Al's Steaks in Del Ray single-handedly made me gain a pound, and that was before I discovered the glories of Gladys Knight and Ron Winan's Chicken and Waffles at the Largo Town Center. In my neighborhood of Shirlington, a new Cakelove outpost opened up; Busboys and Poets put in a second location with some fine Belgian beers on tap; Bear Rock Cafe' offered good sandwiches and breakfast chow, and the brand-spanking new Saigonique fed me a wonderful ginger noodle dish on Christmas Eve in a beautiful dining room. And damn if Weenie Beanie doesn't bring the goods every time I'm craving a half-smoke.

Heck, even the Pentagon got a decent eatery, the All-American Grill. Thank God for Sport and Health or else I'd be the size of a Beefcake-era Eric Cartman.

In the fine tradition laid down by every critic in every conceivable subject, this time of the year demands a "Best of..." list. I could try to spawn an internal dialog about which meal in the previous 12 months was the best, and categorize restaurants by price or location or cuisine. Instead, I'm choosing to look forward to 2008, to which places I missed in 2007.

* Central - we at DCFUD have been trying to have a writers' outing here for months, yet somehow we went to the otherwise-fine-but-it-ain't-Central Malyasian Kopitiam instead of an affordable offering from Michel Richard? We're going this year, kids. Jay, save your money. You're going. Even if I have to carry you in there kicking and screaming. You made me eat at Kam Fong; I'm making you eat at Central.

* The Majestic - the restaurant formerly known as the Majestic Cafe' was a delightful, charming outpost, and the recent takeover and reimagining by Cathal Armstrong should make this one of the best mid-priced restaurants in Northern Virginia in 2008.

* West End Bistro - the early buzz over Eric Ripert's newest restaurant was that the food was definitely good, but not imaginative. I would have to guess that as the staff becomes more situated and comfortable, this restaurant will bring more international buzz to the DC dining scene.

* Hook - Barton Seaver's ambitious plan to serve only sustainable seafood deserves the respect of all diners with a soul. Plus, the guy can flat-out cook.

* Hooked - I grew up next to the Chesapeake Bay. I love seafood. Sue me. And a seafood restaurant out by Dulles and Ace Photo that doesn't have cheap plastic fishnets on the walls and meals made of a mysterious element known as "krab" has my support.

* Station 9 - U Street keeps getting hipper and hipper, and this place promises an updated look on American standards.

And, hopefully the DC area will honor a few New Year's Resolutions, and this year's theme is to be A Little More Like Baltimore:

1) To have a good Jewish deli like Attman's near the Inner Harbor East developments. Sometimes a nice Catholic boy like me wants a good corned beef on rye.

2) To have a decent BBQ place somewhere between Dixie Bones in Woodbridge and Urban in Rockville to compete with Rocklands. They're the only game in NoVA, and while they're a fine establishment, I shouldn't have to long for Andy Nelson's in Cockeysville.

3) To have a pit beef place anywhere. I don't care where, but pit beef is a Baltimore delicacy that should be brought forth to the Nations' Capital post haste.

4) To have more waterfront dining options. The Inner Harbor, Fells Point, Locust Point, Canton, Essex, Middle River - all loaded with everything from mega-chains to cozy family seafood places, and they all have serene water views. DC has a couple of high-end places in Georgetown and Phillip's at the Waterfront. Advantage - Baltimore.

5) To create a vibrant neighborhood near the stadium - granted, this will be a work in progress, but one of the great things about Camden Yards is the proximity to great bars, restaurants and attractions. Making over an area best known for the desperately-missed dance club Nation, light industrial brown zones, and a grouping of *ahem* adult establishments is all going to take some time, but for the love of God, city planners, do not dare turn it into a soulless strip of chains and fern bars. You're trying to do it with Chinatown/Penn Quarter, where fairly soon the only thing Asian in that neighborhood will be the tourists in town to watch the Wizards play Yao Ming and the Houston Rockets. You know darned well Prince George's County will botch it with the National Harbor, as they've failed to put in anything with personality near FedEx Field, and that's been open for almost a decade. But really, DC, you can do it. Look at U Street. Adams-Morgan. H Street. Cleveland Park. Those are areas where the city is trying to express itself with mostly-independent businesses. Don't replicate a Loudoun County strip mall and restaurant park at the baseball stadium and lie to yourself, saying "it's progress." It's regression to a mean, and the city deserves better.

6) To be like bICYCLE. If you ever find yourself on Light Street, south of the Inner Harbor between Federal Hill and Locust Point, you'll see this charming, delicious bistro. It's been open for nearly 8 years, and it's still as good today as it opened. They strive for good food and consistency, and they hit far more often than they miss.