Saturday, January 2, 2010
32 1/2 Down
Normally I write a blog at the end of every year telling my favorite things of the past twelve months. Afterward. as best I can tell, there happens a massive shortage of said items as my extensive group of readers all rush out into the frigid January air to locate their own so that they can be just like me. It's to be expected, because I am rather fabulous and I have unparalleled taste in everything. However, my dears, I fear this year you shall be disappointed as I am not making my list. It would be far too short, and I'd rather just move forward.
Instead, the premier blog of 2010 is going to focus on my recent trip to our lovely nation's capital, Washington, DC, and the new and exciting things I encountered while there. Of course, said adventures shall come in the form of a new list, as there is no better way to start the year (except for maybe writhing beneath Johnny Depp's naked--yet hopefully showered, as he always looks rather unclean--body).
A MIND-BOGGLING AND OCCASIONALLY DOWNRIGHT FUCKED UP LIST OF THINGS THAT I WAS PRIVY TO WHILE VISITING OUR NATION'S GREAT AND ABSOLUTELY, MIND NUMBINGLY COLD CAPITAL AS THIS USELESS BASTARD OF A YEAR, 2009, CRAWLED ITS WAY OUT OF OUR LIVES AND THIS NEW YEAR, 2010, OF WHICH MY FEELINGS ARE STILL VERY UNDECIDED, CAME WHISKING IN VIA ICE, RAIN, AND THE PREREQUISITE ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE
1. My First Black Penis~ I have seen the paraphernalia of black men in movies (don't ask what kind, because if you have to ask, you really don't deserve an answer), photographs, and random Internet searches for things so unrelated I'm still working through how they were included in the list. However, somehow I've managed to live all this time without every experiencing a black package in real life. No more, my friends. I have now seen a black warrior, up close and personal, and on New Jersey Avenue. It was flaccid, and it was urinating into a pile of filthy, melting snow, as its owner stood giving directions to a young lady in a Ford Explorer. I figured if he was comfortable enough to whip it out on the streets of DC, then he would take no issue with me taking a good look, so I made sure to give it ample visual study. (And for those of you who are wondering, if this dude was any indication, yes, what they say about black guys is alarmingly accurate.) I immediately mentally added "see black penis in real life" to my LIST OF THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE, then checked it off. I'm a girl who likes to accomplish her goals.
2. Sitting Pretty~ Late one evening, as I was patiently awaiting the Metro (red line, I think, in case you are wondering) and trying not to touch anything as I'm fairly sure my immunities are not mature enough to brave the various bacteria that can be found in the metro station, I noticed in my peripheral vision that a very tall woman walked up next to me. She was black, she had long, curly hair, she was dressed somewhat like an extra from Flashdance (leg warmers, off the shoulder sweatshirt, Juicy Couture sweatpants), and she was wearing a tremendous amount of makeup, particularly a healthy dose of hot pink lipstick. She was regal. She was proud. Oh, and she was a man. (Mental addition to list "ride the metro with a transsexual," mental check. Clearly, I was on a roll.)
3. The Pleasure Palace~ In my previous jaunts to DC, I have had little experience with Georgetown. This time, finding some time to kill, I ended up in Georgetown. Let me just say, for the record, that I FUCKING HATE GEORGETOWN. Dear Jesus, it's like this creepy little Stepford Pod of women who clearly spend too much time with their credit cards and flatirons, and men whom walk that line between gay and metrosexual so steadily that there is really no way to tell which way they will tumble. Everyone carried shopping bags from Anthropologie. Everyone looked vaguely bored. All the dogs were on designer leashes and wore hand-knitted sweaters, most likely created by poor little Indian kids in sweatshops on the other side of the world. It was like a special version of hell created just for me. However, I did find that Georgetown had one entertaining, thus redeeming, attribute: The Pleasure Palace. The Pleasure Palace is a sex shop tucked away in one of the perfect little brick buildings right in the middle of Georgetown. The mannequins in the window are wearing crotchless panties and pasties. There is a room in the back that specializes just in S&M. Some of the sex toys are so terrifying in appearance that I had no idea for what they would be used, and had to read the back to figure it out. One can buy artificial, lifelike lady bits there for their own personal pleasure in not just white and black, but also Hispanic. What made this all so fabulous? (Besides the United Nations of silicone vaginas, of course.) The fact that it was almost directly across the street from a bevvy of overpriced designer stores, and the only patrons I saw while I was there looked like very cheap, and potentially meth-addicted, hookers. Awesome.
4. Anytime Karaoke~ Some of you know of my fondness for REO Speedwagon (along with Cheap Trick and Foreigner). When one (specifically me) hears REO Speedwagon comes on the radio--or, in this case, the overhead muzak at the Georgetown mall--it should be sung along to, and loudly. It doesn't matter who is nearby, or who you might embarrass. You just gotta sing. So that's what I do, and that's what I did. As the New Year's Eve crowds meandered through the 3-level, holiday decorated mall, hurrying into Express Men for their argyle sweater vests and into Victoria's Secret for their "getting lucky tonight" lingerie, I belted out "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon in loud, full-on Haley. At one point, I suspected I might be arrested. I'm pretty sure I might not have been allowed into Pottery Barn. But as I said before, when REO Speedwagon comes on, you just have to sing.
5. Step Back, Asian~ Just as I love REO Speedwagon, I do NOT love Asians. Asian people drive me up-the-wall, fucking nuts. They are just so damn happy all the time. I mean, seriously, what other group of people giggles nonstop? I'm fairly sure that it's the Japanese that I despise the most, but being a good southern girl who isn't even remotely concerned with her political correctness, I will just say that Asians in general piss me off. They are short, they are obsessed with Hello Kitty, and they are always smiling. It's creepy and unnecessary. Additionally, you can't walk half a block in DC without bumping into one of them, wearing a backpack, carrying Louis Vuitton, and giggling. I have been known in the past to assault Asians in DC, and it very well nearly happened again, as the sheer number of them alone sent me into a blind rage. I'm pretty sure that if I ever go to prison for (non-premeditated) murder, it will be because my blood sugar was high and some Asian got in my way.
I realize that this list only contains five items, rather than my usual seven, eleven, or thirteen, but frankly, I'm too worked up regarding the Asians to continue on at the moment. (This is just a lame excuse, as I really have a headache.) I still have things to say about Madame's Organ in Adams Morgan, not finding a cab during a soaking wet, freezing cold hike on New Year's Eve where I licked things for half a mile, watching B get propositioned by a cross-eyed Asian chick on the bus, and trying my best to coax my new friend, Nathalie, into sleeping with B so that she was in the loop (of the group of us hanging out at the Pub, she was the only one who had NOT had sex with my husband). Alas, another story for another day.
Happy New Year, Everybody.