Birthday Lessons...

Birthdays are ideal for learning important lessons:

1. Maybe you should have said no to those Mexicans from San Fransisco who bought you those tequila shots because you lamely attempt speak Spanish with them. Tequila is no bueno.

2. Therapy Thursday: 4 shots, 4 beers for $12. Okay never a good idea.

3. Not only is Therapy Thursday dangerous, but shamelessly hitting on the bartender who then proceeds to make you more shots (It will be a long while before I can taste a Girl Scout Cookie shot again.

4. Returning to you alma mater blackout. oops.

5. I need to keep my phone attached to my hip, rather then in the backseat of a cab when I return home. Not only did I forget it, since I use it for my alarm I woke up at 11 am the next morning, when I was supposed to be in at 10. I come in my manager laughs at me, and sends me home because I am in no state to serve customers.

6. Walk of shame BACK to work later that day to retrieve the phone the kind cab driver brought back. Everyone knew my shame.

Oh birthdays...

So Many Posts...

While I would never condone animal cruelty, CNN manages to make even animal cruelty...funny. Or maybe it was just this quote:

She said Petcka had complained, "You love that cat more than you love me," but she had no idea Norman would be in danger. When she returned home Norman did not meet her at the door as usual. She found his body under her bedside table.

Poor Norman.

Fast and Furious

However tragic the pushing back for Harry Potter 6 to next summer, I was surprised to hear about this sequel: Fast and Furious 4 WITH Vin Diesel and Paul Walker. I like it.

http://fast-and-furious-4-trailer.blogspot.com/

Hamlet... Facebook style

As an ardent fan of Hamlet, I found this pretty hilarious....

Hamlet, Facebook News-Feed Style

I will be leaving the country within the next week and a half ... have just been hanging out in Maine. But I have a new blog, one that I shall chronicle my time in the Donia from. You can find it here

But I will obviously keep the Disaster flowing as well.

Programming Announcement: Cats!

With every page refresh comes a new random pussy pic at the bottom of this page. Enjoy, heathens!

3 Months of Post-College Debauchery in 1 Photo

Though there were only 5 of us, it always felt like 14 or so, give or take... Mostly because we always had wonderfully lush friends and drunkard acquaintances enjoying the pleasure of our company (booze for boobs policy: splash of the Flash genius). Also maybe there were 9 dead bodies in the alleyway, formerly of the laundry room. Whatevs. All I know is I had great times in the OHD house (cemetery) even if... PEOPLE DID NOT UNDERSTAND THE EXPLICITLY STATED GOLDEN REQUEST FOR BOOBSPLZ. It's such a considerate house rule: plz!

*sigh* I guess I'm ok with it. I mean, boob-viewing-gender-preference withstanding, this photo most impresses me not with what is absent (titties!), but that there is a nearly full handle of decent rum in the middle of the table. Please pay no attention to that unholy handle of "Georgetown Kentucky Bourbon" on the far right. Since it was first sneakily bought by MissMountVernon during a group alcohol run to Wagner's back at like our first party, that cheaper-than-ramen "bourbon" had not been touched. At all. It was never even opened and sniffed to see if it was decent. We knew it wasn't. Not even the blackout assholes who drank in our cemetery for free would touch the stuff.

However, I did not give up.

Moving day came and that damned bottle was still sitting there. Naturally I gave it to the nice college fraternity boy helping me move... Just off the top of my head, I'd say at least 1 freshman got sexed from "bourbon". And that's good enough for me.

Back from Vacation

Well hello there, our fictional, though no less dedicated reader(s). We've been absent for about a month now. And what a month it was! It was a month marked by significant life changes for OneHotDisaster. In no particular order:

• We (OHD) are homeless, having been evicted from our glorious hovel/cemetary of a townhouse by a feral herd of Georgetown goons. We tried to reason with them ("finders keepers, squaters rights!" etc), but they insisted that the summer was over and so was our "lease".
  
• Flash ran away to Maine in preparation for the years of introspective lonliness sure to come from her upcoming stint as a [US GOVERNMENT EMPLOYEE] survivor in the 'donia, [EASTERN EUROPEAN COUNTRY] that is. She'll be prepared. ...Sleep with your shoes on, Flash.
• After what was surely a vicodin-laced mojito bender, Ms. Clinton stumbled into the international departures terminal at Dulles airport and hopped the first flight to Anywhere, Europe. He remains in Norway. Slinging back mojitos and hobnobbing with royalty and designing grand matchbox cities, no doubt, because, why not?
• I, my dear figments of my imagination, am resigned to a new townhouse in the district. It's much like the old OHD house, except the girls and gay have been replaced by straight fraternity boys, the decrepid kitchen by new stainless steel appliances, and the primo gtown locale by a cultural warzone (gentrification vs the ghetto yea!).
• MissMountVernon--and let me just say we all saw this coming--has moved into a cloister(?) across the street from the national cathedral, is under investigation by the federal government, and has been shacking up with a hott football stud.
  

Out with the old, in with the new, I guess.

With many disasters yet to come and past disasters still to be shared (tatoos, final party, CRAZY INSANE MOFO former OHD occupant, etc), you can be sure that OHD continues. Now get back to work, ya bums.

The Old Glory Bourbon Club

As I sit here watching The Mummy (truly a Brendan Fraser masterpiece), I am compelled to share an exciting piece of news with you all.
Last night, OHD decided to break the routine of going out for drinks by going out for drinks somewhere different. Due to Ms Mount Vernon's primal craving for tearing flesh off of the beast, we chose to go to Old Glory so she could have ribs. It started with an innocuous question... and ended with a life changing revelation. The mirror above the bar glistened with small gold plaques with names on them. Ms Mount Vernon simply asked what they were.
Patrick, the wise sage of a bartender, wove us a captivating tale... the gold plaques on the mirror were in honor of the men and women who bravely fought for membership in the most exclusive club at Old Glory... the Bourbon Club. Patrick... you had us at "bourbon."

Apparently Old Glory carries about 81 types of bourbon. To join the Old Glory Bourbon club you just have to drink all of them. We are not fazed, even though none of us are really bourbon drinkers... I felt it tacky to suggest they should have a "Franzia" club. It has now become our house goal that, before our lease ends, the name ONE HOT DISASTER glistens above the Stolis on our own gilded plaque. To do this, we need your help.

If ever you crave BOOZE, grab your ballsack and go get some bourbon at Old Glory. Ask the bartender for the One Hot Disaster sheet-- filed under "O." Then crush some serious bourbon shots. I know you all probably would prefer a "mangorita" or "pomograntini," but we are doing something beautiful for our country by joining this club and no one ever won awards for drinking rainforest delights. In many years, when you bring your grandchild to Old Glory, think of how proud you will be to point to a plaque on the mirror and say "i helped earn that plaque, child... your grandpappy was a hero." your eyes will be misty. it will be beautiful.

so anyway, help us win our goal. we will have a more coordinated effort to dominate the bourbon scene next week during "America Week" (details to come) but help us get on our way! And just go to Old Glory, Rio and me will probably be sitting there already.

BOTTOMS UP!

In Memorium of My Waiting Job.

Yesterday was my last day waiting tables and, as such, I've decided to create the follow up to Ms. Mount Vernons guide to not pissing off your hostess. I present you

A Guide to Knowing if Your Waiter Hates You (A Lot)

1. omg hi i'm 17! me n my bff want to sit in ur section for 2 hours on a saturday night and chat about our bf probs. is it ok if we just nibble on the cheapest appetizer u have and drink water (WITH LEMON PLZ)? we'll tip 18% on our $8.99 bill we promise!
analysis: take your Forever 21 tunic shirt and get the fuck out of my section. if you're that self conscious about eating, why dont you just go buy some diet coke and laxatives and stay home. there is no need to cock block my income by crying over your house salad with dressing on the side for 50% of my shift. enjoy 7th grade.

2. hi me and my husband just decided to take our child, little Lucifer, out to a nice dinner! Little Lucifer has a bundle of excess energy-- you wouldn't mind if he just ran laps around the whole restaurant, right? Oh don't worry-- we taught him how to scream EXTRA loud so that we can always locate him!
analysis: i know this news is a little late, but you should have gotten an abortion. your child is a heinous devil and i want you to know i'm considering putting arsenic in his kids cheese ravioli.

3. gelici! hai en michrikov abrevmi gialonic barus. ni chai venov! velkomen amerkia! mikov harivk mi dinov hoy dimis tira ballen dikom. salut!
analysis: i did not just understand one fucking word you said. you know what i hope you understand? your foreign ass is going to get a 20% gratuity added to your check even if there are only 2 people. FREEDOM, BITCH.

4. this restaurant looks great! do you have XYZ item that i don't see on the menu? no? oh... well can i get this dish without this and without this too and can you change the sauce, add pepperoni, change the type of pasta and stir counterclockwise? is that too much trouble?
analysis: why would you come to a restaurant where you don't like/want ANYTHING on the menu? why don't you be a bigger pain in my ass and ask me to hand filter your water through imported hawaiian black sand? did you want to add boogers to your meal too? because i just assumed so. enjoy.

5. hi its our third date! i know this may be awkward, but if we sit on the same side of the booth its going to be a LOT easier for me to score an OPHJ (over pants hand job) in between appetizers and entrees. try not to interrupt our aggressive frenching when you bring our food out kthnx!
analysis: i know all you're paying attention to now is your strategy of getting her to let you touch her boob.... but lets see the forest through the trees. she wants EXTRA dressing on that salad? regular coke? once her metabolism gos you'll be accidentally f'ing her fat folds for the rest of your life. enjoy that boob touch chubby chaser.

6. hey we're really enjoying our dinner! i know there are 11 of us sitting here but would you mind if we all did separate checks? and can we all pay in cash and can we all get change? that's not too much trouble right? dont mind me, i'm going to only tip 14%... i'm SURE someone else will make up for it! i just am so short on those benjamins ^-^
analysis: congratulations! you just increased the chance that i will fuck up your bill/credit card by 200%. and please dont get pissy that its taking me more than 30 seconds to do. but seriously, i'm really glad you all wrote EXACTLY how much you each owe ($21.64) next to your credit card number. it makes it very easy. eat shit.



alright now beyond simple TYPES, here are some things never to do.
1. please take 5 minutes to consolidate your needs, create a prioritized list and then ask me to get you things. i do not enjoy when this job doubles as my work out so i will get pissed real fast if every person at the table is asking me to get them something different every time i come back to the table to give someone else whatever they just asked for.
2. if you cant afford to leave a decent tip, don't fucking go out to dinner. don't you understand ths is my income and i have a very aggressive partying lifestyle? please be sensitive to this fact whenever tipping under 20%.
3. seriously don't just hang out and eat at a rate of .0001 molecule per minute especially if your bill is low as shit. you're effectively preventing me from making any money. i understand you want to talk with your bff, but thats why places called "not my mother f'ing booth" exist. GO AWAY.
4. please don't make a hundred alterations to what you want to eat and then get pissed at me when its not perfect. stop being a diva and just fuckin eat up, if you want something that specific get your ass back to the kitchen and make it yourself (esp if you're a woman.. why arent you at home cooking anyway right?)

this is but a few..... i hope you are better educated and PEACE OUT waiting job... RIP motherfucker

Sad but true

We have literally grown up with Facebook.

What makes me wonder is what happens when Facebook and us approach our golden years, will applications like "Online Shuffleboard" or "The race to see who takes the most pills a day" will dominate our landscape. Will we write on our walls, "Hey Margaret, it was great playing checkers with you in the Golden Years Home this morning LOLROFL you are so good at them. P.S. come by my room lata Ben, the 90 year-old from next door just got High School Musical 45 on DVD"?

Ahh those will be the days. Off to Puerto Rico in ohhhh....3 hours, so I should probably go to bed.

The Many Failings of a July Birthday.

Today marks my 22nd birthday. Of the 22 birthdays I've had, five stand out in my mind as particularly... disasterous, and it is those five which I'd like to expound upon now.

Tenth Birthday, 1996: Once, in my youth, a friends mother made a birthday cake that is responsible for 2/5 of my problem birthdays. It was a pool-- chocolate mini donuts as inning tubes, frosting people, etc, etc. On my tenth birthday my mother and I decided to recreate it. This, of course, meant we brought it to the Giant Foodstore bakery staff to recreate. Instead of receiving the cake of my dreams, blue jello and icing people and chocolate diving boards and all, we were-- two hours before my party was set to begin-- given a cake with a buxom, bikini clad beauty bathing in a pool upon a pink swim float in a fairly seductive position. My mother was flabbergasted, saying "THIS IS FOR A TEN YEAR OLD" in an exasperated manner to the bakery staff. Because my party was so soon, the bathing beauty was scraped off and "happy birthday sara" was scrawled across the cake in icing.

Eleventh Birthday, 1997. Due to the failures of my swimming pool cake the previous year, my mother and I decided that we would be better suited to hire a cake maker who could respond to our individual needs. Mother looked in the phone book and found a cake maker who lived a few streets down. We gave her a call, got in the car and headed over to her home.
The woman seemed very nice, a portly, wily haired woman in her 40s. We explained to her what we wanted and she said us on her couch while she made my mother coffee and gave us her portfolio to leaf through.
Red Flag #1. When you open up a portfolio and immediately see breasts. Cake breasts, to be specific. Turn the page.
Red Flag #2. Penis. Cake.... penis.
Oh thank God, we turned the page and there was a non controversial cake raccoon. Lets look at that for a while. Turn the page.
An entire nude woman, her naughty parts exposed, crafted out of cake. Turn the page. A CAKE NUDE MAN, pointing to the ceiling with his cake staff.
At this point, mother calmly closes the portfolio and places it on the table. She tells me that we will not be getting a cake from this lady. We get up and slip into the day, before the wily haired woman ever comes out of the kitchen with her coffee.

Fourteenth Birthday, 200o. Hiking the 100 Mile Wilderness of the AT. We were close to the end of our day and stopped to have lunch by a lake. Lunch was pizza!!! AKA macaroni and cheese cheese on top of a pita. Disgusting. Only one obstacle remained before we got to our campsite-- Potawadjo Ridge, a small little hill. After having just hiked high, craggy mountains for days, Potawadjo Ridge received nothing but our ridicule. "Oh noooo I don't think I can hike over it, its hugeeee!" Well. Potawadjo Ridge has a sense of humor.
Just as we arrived at the summit of Potawadjo Ridge, disaster struck in the from of a freak lightning storm. And not a lightning storm a couple miles away-- a lightning storm within 500 feet of us. As in, we were made aware of it when we saw a tree up ahead get struck, spark a bit and fall over. We immediately assumed "lightning position". Lightning position is designed for close proximity to electric storms so that, in the event you are struck by lightning, the energy will go through your feet and ass, not through your heart and kill you. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
We stayed like that for two hours. It hailed golf balls. It poured rain. The temperature dropped 15 degrees. I was in a friggen cotton t shirt. It kept lightning over and over-- there was no pause between the flash of the lightning and the rumble of thunder. I genuinely thought I was going to die.
After two hours, the storm subsided and I got up. I was shivering so badly that I couldn't walk, all of us had pretty bad hypothermia from sitting in hail and rain for that long. Trip leader got some emergency chocolate bars out of his backpack to get our blood sugar up. I vividly remember him handing me mine but my hands were shivering so bad it shattered and fell all over the ground. We had six tenths of a mile until our lean to and we RAN the entire way, I have no recollection of it at all. Just little snippets of memory running through trees, half tripping on roots. We arrived, made hot chocolate and sang happy birthday.

Fifteenth Birthday, 2001. Seven week whitewater canoeing trip in Northern Quebec down the Mistassibi river. Unfortunately, there is not a direct road or even any direct way to GET to the Mistassibi so three of our seven weeks consisted of getting to the river itself-- pond hopping, canoeing rivers upstream, walking our canoes down untraversable rapids while in the frigid water up to our shoulders down rapids and, my personal favorite, PORTAGING. Portaging is when you physically carry your canoes, your backpacks, tents, food, everything over land to the next waterway.
My birthday, July 14, 2001, we were scheduled for eight portages. Eight. Getting out of our canoes, unloading, carrying everything any distance from a tenth of a mile to two miles, reloading and canoeing to the next one. My favorite was the two miler, it was such a joy. There's nothing quite like getting lost in the Canadian woods while carrying a 95 pound piece of wood on your shoulders. We completed all 8 and got to our campsite.
Two things I remember besides doing eight god awful portages: first, that the boys were mad the girls took the good tent site so they cut down a bush and put it under our tent. So I slept on a bush. Assholes. Second, that we made a Jell-O No bake cheesecake for the occasion and it SET. The cheesecake set. For the record, they usually only set while IN THE REFRIGERATOR. It was that cold.

Eighteenth Birthday, 2004. This summer I am working at Darrow Wilderness Camp's base camp so I figure I'm safe. There are no showers on the island, so we have to bathe in the lake. I decide that I'm going to treat myself and wash my hair, take a nice long lake bath. I go into the supplies room and grab a plastic container of what looked like Dr. Brauners all purpose shampoo/soap/car degreaser/all purpose liquid. I go to the lake and take my time, wash my hair, just have a wonderful time making sure I'm nice and clean.
Fast forward ten hours: why is my hair so gross? I guess it was because that plastic container had VEGETABLE OIL in it, not shampoo. I washed my hair with vegetable oil.

Happy. Fucking. Birthday. Lets hope this one is better!

Trail of Beers

If you were driving down Wisconsin Avenue yesterday around 6 pm you would have been witness to a glorious spectacle, 4 of us, Rio leading the way with a keg, R with 2 30-racks on his shoulders, Flash with a cart full of mixers and myself holding another 30-rack and a backpack full of booze. Thus the Trail of Beers as I call it, commenced another successful "gathering" at OHD house.

Once again our party patrons did not disappoint as no alcohol remained this morning, minus that bottle of 12 dollar bourbon...okay perhaps not the most popular purchase.

Flash of course almost got her ass beat. Actually, not true at all, she has a killer right hook. However someone was added to the Do Not Invite list and I think we all know who that was...a sad reminder that even if you do go to a state school, in the end you are just an alcoholic.

Just a reminder the Rayger is next weekend as we celebrate Flash's next 3 birthdays. All we can do is pray our neighbors are once again gone for the weekend.

this WOULD happen to us.

It has come to our attention that there are nine dead bodies buried in the alley way of our house. While I am obviously not pleased about this news, I am at least comforted that the dead people are no longer in our basement where they were originally found.

Katie informed Rio and myself of this fact as we were peacefully watching Joel become potty trained on John and Kate Plus 8. Our reaction was typical: "dont tell us! dont tell us! DONT TELL US! ...tell us everything." To make a long story short, someone was digging around in our basement and lo and behold they found nine dead people. A basement is no place for corpses, so the person removed the bodies and REBURIED them in our alleyway, affectionately called Diagon Alley.

It goes without saying that there are some concerns that come along with finding out that your home is burial ground. Firstly, how in the hell did 9 people die in our basement? Second, what room do our dead people prefer to haunt? Third, is it possible that a ghost is watching me while I shower? Fourth, do ghosts enjoy eating mini fruit roll ups and diet coke? If so, how do I ensure they don't eat my mini fruit roll ups and diet coke?

So anyway, please be aware of waking the dead while you are partying at the OHD house this July 5th.

Update: new computer

New computer purchased and set up. You may now direct computer concerns to "Sony".

Signs you need a new computer

1. You've had it since senior year, of HIGH SCHOOL yet still can't seem to part with that piece of junk.
2. It is commonplace for your computer to overheat and shut down when performing basic functions like opening a word document
3. Your computer is so old that it does not even have wireless built in, you have to use a wireless card.
4. Your friends often ask you how Toshiba is, almost like it is an ailing relative when it is in fact just an old ass computer.
5. You try to coax your laptop into doing things, similar to coaxing an obese dog to play fetch.
6. You've given up with instant messenger and youtube videos because your computer cannot handle the pressure and will turn off.
7. Your monitor is so broken that you have to hold it up with a Hawaiian Lei, and then when the Lei broke you tried to actually tie it together instead of just purchasing a new computer.
8. Most of your friends have gone through 2 or 3 computers in the same time span
9. You cannot use the computer late-night when your roommate is sleeping because it sounds like a vacuum.


Okay, okay, I think its time to invest in a new computer, but damn I will miss Toshiba.

Breaking News: College Students Illiterate

Twill happen again. Only next time we'll have a hippogriff tied up in the back and I'm sure the Floo Network will be working by then, making travel infinitely more convenient. Peace out, bitches.

Before and After: The Beginning

[Backyard pre-invasion. Notice the gorgeous slip-in-slide and newly lacquered beer pong table. Forbidden Forest can be seen in rear.]
Miss Mount Vernon summed up well our opening night of debauchery. Let me also say thanks to all of the Randy McRandomsons who made the night a little more interesting. 1 keg down, at least a baker's dozen to go. All systems go: moaning myrtle's porcelain throne robustly handled the work of ~100 overworked livers, old-as-dirt neighbors did not complain (we at OHD love the hearing impaired), and nothing broke. Game on.

Inauguration de la Casa

The first official party of OHD is over and was a success! We were very excited to see some of our regular readers there helping us kill the keg of Keystone...yes nothing but quality at OHD.

I'm sure Rio will have some photographic evidence of the debauchery but overall I'd say if you weren't there, you should have been.

Sadly we did not have any naked slip & slide contests with our new Wave Rider Slip & Slide, but it is only June, plenty of parties and shall I say, Raygers left to fulfill that fantasy.

Things we have learned:
-Funny signs around the house are a good addition including my personal favorite on our fireplace: "Floo Network, note: out of order do not use")
-Our newly lacquered beer pong table is going to be great
-Earl, from Wagner's liquor will be a great friend this summer, they even let us borrow a hand truck for transport, way too easy.
-Our neighbors, the heads of the Georgetown Econ Department might hate us...no they definitely hate us
-Its going to be a fun summer.

NAMBLA in DC

Ok, seriously? C'mon man, this statue is beyond ridiculous.

I was recently asked by a family friend to take a photo of a monument located on 15th street between E and Constitution, and I did. What I also did was run into this HOTT and erotic (illegal?) monument to the Boy Scouts of America. Except that I ran into it from behind (haha) with a big manly bare ass staring me in the face.

Who thought this was a good image for a Boy Scout statue? A naked, burly man and a butterface (another man?) surround a young, supple looking scout firmly gripping his staff. Hmm.

No doubt some scouts were lucky enough to have such beautiful mentors during their formative years, but I was not among them. I remember my scout leaders as fat, balding old guys overly concerned with knots and tents. Maybe that's why I only made it for one year. Anyway, the best part of the statue is its location: the Ellipse of the White House near 15th. Hahahaha SO gay.

Live! from the OneHotDisaster Townhouse

As I type this post on our sexy sex futon within our "new" and gracefully deteriorating townhouse, Flash and I are watching Super Sweet 16. It's the episode with Collin. You know, "the prince of Cleveland." Collin just got 2 cars for his birthday. Well fuck you, Collin. We at the OHD house have four (4) futons. Four! That's crazy! Anyway, Collin sucks and makes me covetous so clearly we would rather be watching Jon & Kate plus 8.

Ok, onto the OHD house! It should go without saying that this place is awesome, but I'll do it anyway: This place is awesome!!

With a long, grassy backyard and set right across the street from a neighborhood park with tennis and bball courts and a sweet pool full of lots of hotties this house will be the key to one hot summer.



Currently, the house contains:
1 Flash
1 Rio
4 futons
1 spooky basement
1 house elf
1 newly non-leaking upstairs bathroom
1 broken dishwasher "on wheels"
3 bedrooms
47 empty bottles of homemade beer
1 Ministry approved floo network fireplace
& 1 forbidden bamboo forest

Soon to contain:
slip-n-slide!
bar room!
keg!
more house elves!


**PARTY THIS FRIDAY NIGHT**

Moving Woes

Timeline of events of the Official moving day of One Hot Disaster:

8:30- phone call from UHaul, we have 20 minutes to pick up our truck. oops. change reservation to 5 pm
10:00- Enjoy a turkey gobbler from the bagel place next door
10:30- Begin moving Rio & Flash into house using our favorite Zipcar, Meatloaf. He is so fun. spirits are high. house looks awesome.
2:00- both are moved in, heading back to my apartment to start my stuff
2:10- Zipcar calls, apparently we are low on battery and need to drive around to fix it. No problem. Beeline to McDonald's where we play a rousing game of "who should not be eating McDonald's?" We laugh.
4:30- I meet Miss Clinton at metro to assist in retrieving UHaul. Little does he know, but he is about to be our moving companion as well.
5:00- Arrive at UHaul, power is out due to tornadoes (no big deal) They give us car without contract or computer authorization.
6:50- I do the most amazing backing in job of a UHaul ever made.
7:00- We feast on pringles and gummies, moving is hard.
7:30- The great move begins.
9:30- First load is moved in. Moving is somehow less fun than it was 12 hours ago.
1:30 am- Second load is set, we are sweaty angry and tired.
2:00- We all merrily jump in the truck to head over to drop it off and be done and then.... nothing. Truck will not start. Not even a noise it just is dead. I have been moving for 14 hours and words cannot even describe the feeling in me now.
2:45- UPD comes to jump us. First we cannot open the hood (forgot about the hood release INSIDE the car). Then nothing happens with the jumpers. We cry.
3:00- We call our friend Billy, the on-call guy for UHaul. We imagine his life story of wanting to be a mechanic with his own shop just like his father. He soon pulls up in a white pick up trick.
3:30- Billy takes out a screwdriver and sparks the ignition, starting the car. He hands us said screwdriver and tells us how to fix it in case it happens again. We are in awe, I mean maybe after 175000 miles, its time to retire the moving truck with Arizona plates.
4:00- we arrive to unload the truck, waking Flash out of her slumber. We are worried the neighbors might be suspicious of our late night moving.
5:30- go to sleep for one hour
6:30- wake up to return UHaul
7:00- arrive at UHaul store. they are closed, still without power. Thankfully 1/2 hour later arrives some employees with some McMuffins in their hands. They sympathize with my situation.

8:00 return to OHD and sleep.
10:00- call my manager and let him know I will not be coming in for the morning shift
12:00- wake up again. shower.
12:25- come downstairs refreshed and hear a mysterious dripping noise. No its not Harry Potter Puppet Pals, it is in fact water leaking from the ceiling above, onto our kitchen table and floor.
12:30 pm- I apologize Lord, for using your name in vain. Several times.
2:00- Nadia and I from housing are not friends. In fact we are far from it.
2:15- Yay we have cable...

And so another adventure commences in 'How the Taco (Bell) Turns' at One Hot Disaster Townhouse.

Working Very Hard

Rio and I have been very hard at work today making sure that the OHD house will be extremely well suited to our needs. Very hard at work! We arose early in the morn to craft a breakfast that would give us energy for our very difficult tasks and then we have been running and working until now, just recently, we have collapsed into an overworked and very exhausted heap of useful human being.

.......That is not true really. none of it.

Actually what we did all day was play World of Warcraft (me.... level 14. Human. Warrior. ALLIANCE FOREVZZZZ!!! Shout out to bubbleboyz1432 and AllianceHawtie69) and Rio has been researching some great youtube videos of many Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston songs. So many verions of "Believe" from the Prince of Egypt! And now we know which one would be the best version to play early in the morning at our house! See?? We're useful.

Unfortunately the sun is almost setting so we must go imbibe in alcohol. SEE YA.

Hark! Lo it comes, the Investigation 'o the Century

Post-GW: Ms. "J Clue" applies for gov't high level job concerning extremely sensitive materials, "the public trust". As the good friend that I am, I offer to confirm to federal investigators her ability to care for, nurture and lovingly caress said "public trust". Granted, I was hungover for my 2pm rendezvous with the secret agent, but all seemed to be going well as I eloquently described J Clue's temperment as "chill" and "laidback". If, like me, you heard federal investigator and thought James Bond, the grey-suited-24-year-old-Willie-Loman-wannabe was a bit of a downer. And he had poor penmanship-- I couldn't read what he was writing (...via her personal relationships with vagrants, J Clue is not fit to fondle public trust etc). And he was sober.

The sad American version of James Bond then mocked me for currently being unemployed and for my inablility to meet with him earlier than 2pm due to "other scheduled things" (pancakes with the roomie). Fair.

Now I'm off to join MissMountVernon for rooftop drinks. I love this time of year. It makes me feel so INSOUCIANT.

"If you saw a heat wave, would you wave back?

As I sit here on the roof of E Street overlooking the national mall, listening to Britney, sipping on a cocktail at 2:30 in the afternoon with future house mate, Miss Clinton I cannot help but reflect on how I love the summer.

We just put on a show for the State Department featuring the choreographed moves from "4 Minutes" by Madonna and Justin Timberlake. I think they enjoyed it. It seems like post-college life is strikingly similar to college, just without finals and papers...sounds good to me.



Pictured above is the most arduous task of the day, opening a bottle of beer without a bottle opener. Tragic.

This reminds me of the time that Flash, my roommate The Wiz and myself were homeless for the afternoon. In a rush to get to the liquor store before "True Life: I Live in the Projects" aired we inadvertently left the key inside. With none of my other roommates around we were forced to suffer through living life as a street wanderer with our only source of sustenance a huge bottle of champagne and a 6 pack of beer (thankfully twist-off). As we sat in that hallway outside my apartment drinking away I realized how lucky we are to be able to drink excessively in the comforts of our own home and sometimes at Trailer Trash Tuesdays at McFaddens. Two hours later we were safe in the comforts of our apartment, appreciative of the life we had.

So perhaps today when you are about to crack open that beer or bottle of Burnett's finest vodka, take a moment and poor a beer out for our homeless homies...maybe not the whole beer, that would just be a waste.

grow some

Flash,
grow some balls. I know we'll be living together for a few months (and i anticipate loving it) but Jesus Christ grow some balls! you're home for a cold 14 days of the last half of May. THE LAST 1/2 of MAY!! Couldn't be more beautiful! Jeez. I know it looks like a frat house now (I'm more than capable of dealing/transforming) but by God we'll make it GLORIOUS!!!

Pictures of the ONE HOT DISASTER house forthcoming... principals moving in June 3rd. PARTY planned and TBA!!!!!

Eating Out: A Practical Guide in Not Pissing Off Your Server

If you have ever seen the movie Waiting, I would highly recommend it. Its premise is simple: never piss off the people who serve your food. As a waitress I can very much relate to that sentiment. I also work as a host at my restaurant once a week, which helps deal with those pesky taxes at the end of the year and has given me an important perspective in how restaurants work.

Today was Mother's Day, a day of celebration of moms everywhere, a supposedly happy and joyous day to treat your mother to a nice champagne and mimosa brunch. For many this was true, but for a select few they managed to turn brunch into 4 hours of hell.

In honor of this day, I would like to present a list of APPROPRIATE behavior in a restaurant. Today I will focus on the hosting side of things.

1. Reservations. Do not come to a busy restaurant in Georgetown, on a weekend night, and expect to be sat right away. We are obviously glad you are here, but we also have 300 reservations that called ahead.

2. Furthermore, if you arrive a half hour early for your reservation, don't be surprised when we can't seat you right away, or you may have to wait for a table to open up. This is just as important if you are late for your reservation. CALL AHEAD, its courteous and hosts will be more likely to be accommodating.

3. This is particular to restaurants on the waterfront, BUT the outside patio is first come first serve. That being said, expect to wait for a table when its busy.

4. Sit where you are sat. Simple enough, but the amount of people who request to be moved is positively mind blowing, and often they ask after they have ordered their food. If you are really dissatisfied that you are not right next to a window, ask, but often times when you move, you are moving to another section with another server. That means tables and food must be transferred and if that new server is busy you are actually hurting the quality of the service you receive.

5. We have a rule about full entree dining only in the restaurant. First our liquor license requires it. And second, servers are not cocktail waiters, they are here to serve you dinner, not to let you sit on the patio for 4 hours with your buddies while there is a 2 hour wait of families. Go to the bar for that.

6. Anger looks good on no one. Getting angry at the host will make them less accommodating and less likely to work hard to get you that really nice seat. Sometimes I wonder who has the patience to dine with these rude people, but I have been screamed at by patrons who are irrationally anger. I am sorry but I cannot create a table of 9 out of thin air, we have to wait for a table to get up and pay in order to seat you.

7. No other restaurant allows incomplete parties to be sat, so what makes you believe we will? Yesterday we almost had to call the police on an irate man who was in complete shock that we would not seat his party of 11 when only 3 of the people were in the restaurant. Learn some manners.

8. I am not stupid and don't judge me. I am about to graduate college, and I did not go to school for four years to be looked down by you. I work hard to pay my bills and my loans, and while you may think that this job is beneath you, I take great pride at being good at this one.

9. Service, but at what cost? The most common misconception is that at a restaurant we are "yes-people," that is the customer is always right. While we try our best to please the customer, we have to look at the well-being of the entire restaurant and all patrons not just you. We can not break the law just for you or tell a table that is already sat that they must get up to accommodate your needs. From the server's perspective this can be much worse (example: eating an entire plate of food and then complaining about it being terrible and wanting a refund).

10.Say thank you. On a holiday, especially when I am spending time away from my family its nice to have people say 'Thanks' or a simple 'Good Morning.'

That's it for now, my insomnia is slowly going away. Perhaps later this week I will create the server portion of this list, maybe with a little help from Flash who can relate to the woes of the service industry.

finally, the final FINALS

Final Exams are the plague. They are not like the plague. These final college exams don't simply deprive me of sleep and make me a cranky crazed roommate. No. There is no metaphor here. I'm dying. Omg! The kid on the computer next to me just fell to the floor!... fuck, now he's snoring down there.

I hadn't planned to have to do this so soon, but these are desperate times and I fear I won't make it to see Friday. This will be my last post ever. Cause I'll be dead. Via academia. If the police ever come to question you about it (hahaha) you may give them the names of Professors Smith, Stine, Ozernoy, Kelly and Withers.

Good night, and good luck. it's only noon?!?!



*photo of student leaving Gelman library (age 22)

Kick 'em out!

Gracias a Texas!

This hot mama's shouting incoherently in spanglish about (tacos and softball or some such?) the need for everyone to have proper english language skills. Spelling is for elitist commies and english is for posers, right?

Yeah!, send her back to Tijuana where she came from.

I want an old person as a pet...

I went and saw "Young at Heart" at E Street Cinema tonight and I didn't stop smiling/crying the entire time. Its got a great combination of old people and Sonic Youth. I want to be like these people when I'm old.

Babies + GWB = awww

The range of emotions in this photo is stunningly beautiful.

He will soon be gone, and with him, his antics. Enjoy them while we can.

Democratic Primary, the game

(click on the pic)

Finally, someone has figured out a way for us to get involved in the race. It took long enough, but the New York Post stepped up to the challenge and now college students around the country can eagerly click their candidate to victory. (note: while Obama's character can make use of long limbs, Hillary's cannot yet throw around her sizable 'trunk junk')

"I met a real Ho!"

It recently came to my attention that my sister made the acquaintance of a "real ho." The story goes as follows:

My sister, Rolly May, was walking along the streets of our campus when suddenly a scantily clad woman emerged from the bushes. Startled but ever helpful, Rolly inquires if the woman needs any help.
"Am I on a campus?" says the woman, to which my sister confirms that yes, the woman is in fact on a college campus. Rolly asked if the woman needed directions and the woman said "yeah I'm going to a club." When pressed for further details regarding what club she sought, the woman broke down and made a confession:
"It's my first night working the streets. My pimp has been calling and yelling at me but I just can't find M street. Do you all know where M street is?!" Taking a cue from the story of the Good Samaritan found within the Bible, Rolly points the ho in the direction of M street and escorts her for a short while before eventually parting ways. While they were walking to M street, the ho spotted several other scantily clad women, GW undergraduate freshmen, and yelled loudly "are they hos to? They workin the street too?"

This story will not be relayed in any fashion to my mother.

Obama's A Fitch Bitch!

Oh Miss Mount Vernon, fear not! I too have a paper due today at 6pm but, like a moth to a flame, I couldn't stay away from the Pennsylvania election night coverage. I swear I was thinking about my paper the whole time (obvi) so, riddled with guilt and stress, I didn't enjoy it. But I did catch this wonderful gem during his concession speech:



This is just too good! The fitch bitches, err I mean-- these bro-dudes, apparently love Barry. But why? Prepare to crap your progressive American Apparel underoos, courtesy of that bitch Jezebel: "From blind gayvotion to NAFTA to centimillionaire executive pay packages to endemic racism to bland pointless predictability Abercrombie is the epitome of everything about the America that is not "ready" for a black Muslimy Marxist freethinking president." I dunno, maybe it's some kind of fucked up product placement? Volunteer service hour requirements? Whatever it is, it's a turnoff. I'm voting Nader. Well, ok, I'm voting Nader if Ron Paul can't wrap up the GOP nom.

But seriously, who wears that crap? Juuuuust kidding... but seriously.

I don't have senioritis

I am writing a paper thats due at 11 am. It is 9:30...and I've just begun. Hooray for senior year. Cheers to keeping up with those academics during this time of heavy alcohol consumption and intense procrastination.

News roundup (since I have nothing better to do):

"But I'm not a screamer"

Native grizzly bears are extinct in California....but apparently can kill you.

DC is not the drunkest, but we do the most drugs.

procrastination nation

OMG! In my effort to ignore my "real" work, aka papers-papers-papers-&-more-papers, I've also neglected my blogging. SHAME! SHAME ON ME! Fuck, it's downright BARBARIC! (read: Big Byrd style)--(warning: poli sci joke). Fortunately, I was recently reminded of this hot disaster we created and my absence from it. Doubly fortunate, I am at this moment prepping to go out and D.A.N.C.E. Woo hoo!

Hot tip of the night: mix Crystal Light to some Gilbey's v-spot, add Powerade and you've got a delicious drAnk. (courtesy of TeamDeadbeat)

OK, this was quick post, BUTTT, I've tOts got something to say about the Ingrid Michaelson concert I saw last night... girl is funny... and eats babies for nutrition and energy.

Peace out, I wish you all lots of ass tonight. Happy 4.20!

I am a Cat Woman, hear me Meow

I will admit it.... I enjoy cats. A lot. It seems as though every time I am home I convince my mom that we *need* another cat (because I want to play with one) so I select a cat or two, play with it for the week I am home and then say "thanks, Mom, have fun with these cats for the next 15 years." Luckily, many of my friends also enjoy cats. Rio and I are known to cherish a good LOL Cat, for instance.

Today, my mom sent me this video which is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen. I have a soft spot for engineers, so it capitalizes on many of my interests.

Hilarious

In Honor of Pope Benny's Visit...

Yesterday at Miss Mount Vernon's place of work we discusses extensively what the pope would eat if he came to our restaurant. I decided on the Mediterranean Tilapia.

Pink is the new Best

Pink, the itsy piggy above, first stormed into my life via my inbox a few months ago. He's looks squishy soft and radiant sleeping with his sibling pups. And so in keeping with my often thought about and seldom acted upon desire to do something selfless daily, I present to all, little PINK.

He's flawless, no? Almost too good. I like to imagine him with small fuzzy wings, like a lilliputian piggy cherub or something.

God, he's great.

Also, a big congratulations to our inimitable Flash. Being selected as the one student speaker to represent the student body at GW's commencement on the National Mall is something to be celebrated. I can't think of a better celebration than a Pink-filled summer. Please God I hope this happens. Viva Pink!

Your Majesty, Commencment Speaker...

CONGRATS!

To Flash for winning the coveted title of Commencement Speaker for 2008...in front of 22,000 people, on the National Mall, next to the President of the NAACP.......no reason to be nervous or anything.

Seniors Year.

I have been to one hour of class this week. One. Sixty minutes.

Today I fully planned on going to wine class. This class is called "the history of wine." When reading the bulletin for good classes to take, myself (and every other second semester senior) seemed to have read that title as the history of WINE. Unfortunately, our teacher actually meant it to be read as "the HISTORY of wine." This class fucking sucks.
I sat in Kogan for about twenty minutes before class and fully decided that class was a waste of my time. In true senior spirit, I grabbed a Nalgene of Cape Codder, a folding chair and proceeded to sit in the sun for 5 hours drinking before work. This was great. Except at around 8pm I realized that I could literally feel the heat emanating off my sunburn through my work shirt. Fuck. I am a lobster.

And, as it turns out, I am remarkably red. A la farmers tan. It's bad news... I hurt. I dont really even know what I'm writing about now because I'm pretty drunk. Did you know that apparently you should NOT drink when the last thing you ate was an Ellio's frozen cheese pizza slice nine hours before? Yeah, it's true. Put it in your back pocket.

I'm going to bed, I have to try our for commencement speaker tomorrow. HAHA that is true.

Charlton Heston's Gun Taken From His Cold, Dead Hands

The Onion broke this story a couple days ago and I'm surprised to say it hasn't received much media attention.

It will be interesting to watch how the National Rifle Association moves forward from this. Heston was their most high profile gun rights advocate and to see him capitulate to the anti-gun lobby is surely damaging to the cause. He just didn't care enough. Whatever. Let the damn, dirty apes come. We'll fend them off with spoons. Thanks, Charlton. That'll be juuuust great.

Decision '08

No, this post is not about the '08 election. It is about the MOST important decision you could ever make.

If you could listen to one song for the rest of your life, which would it be?

Jessica Simpson's "A Public Affair"

or

Paris Hilton's "The Stars Are Blind"

Make the most important decision of your life.

The Perils of Tuesdays

In our humble corner of the earth, Tuesday nights are a respite from the monotony of daily, hum drum [comparatively] sober life. It is the night that all those who are 21 and above flock to the one place on earth untainted by freshmen girls wasted off 3 Smirknoff Ices who are "omggg sooo drunkkk omgggg maybe if I dance on a table I'll sober up." You know the type. Anyway, so all of us second semester seniors flock to the Mecca of trashy bars: FicMaddens.

Last night, Rio and Ms. Mount Vernon and myself decided to shake up the routine by pregaming dollar drink night (which, for the sake of clarity, begins at.... 7pm). Three pitchers of beer later, the night had begun. FicMaddens was packed! I was sucking down Tom Collins' like they were water! They are just a dollar, WHATEVER! I always make a crucial mistake at FicMaddens which is to convince myself that, to get my money's worth, sipping is unacceptable. Only chugging will suffice. So needless to say, six Tom Collins later, I was pretty fucked up.

I want to tell you about my on-again-off-again boyfriend. His name is Randy McRandomson and he truly is a magnificent man. He is full of mystery... where is he from? What name is he going by today? Does he have diseases? Randy loves to make me guess... it adds to the excitement of our admittedly very physically based relationship.

So here I am, in a Tom Collins haze, when I see him dancing at the front bar at FicMaddens. It's Randy!!! My dear boyfriend Randy McRandomson. I had missed him so much. Randy and I begin to talk-- today he is taking the form of an art student from Silver Spring (I know, I know.... I was drunk). The pain of our long separation was truly too much to bear and Randy whispered those sweet words into my ears, those words that my loins had ached to hear for so long:

"Want to go upstairs and make out?"

Oh Lord! Yes Randy! Nothing could be sweeter. Racing and stumbling up the stairs we finally find a haven for our love.... a plastic folding table in the corner of the upstairs bar. The ambient lighting setting the mood, Randy's sweet and magical lips graced mine and we were locked in a frantic embrace. Now, for the record, I was aware that I was making out with some random guy in the upstairs of a trashy bar. I was also very aware that EVERYONE ON THE PLANET was watching us, maybe making a comment or two. Obviously, I thought, they were jealous.

This delicious session continued for half an hour or perhaps more (time truly does fly when Randy's hands caress your body) until I feel iPhone sensually vibrate against my inner thigh. iPhone really is my best friend... he looks out for me when I may be inching closer to getting raped and he also tells me what the weather is like. Truly a versatile friend. iPhone told me that rio was now searching for me and this alerted me to the fact that, holy fuck, whatever I am doing now is gross. Really gross. He is from SILVER SPRING MARYLAND.

Escaping underneath the guise of "having to pee so bad" I flew down the stairs where I met up with rio and Ms. Mount Vernon. They were going to another bar and I assured them I would meet up with them. I continued down the stairs where I saw my friend Gina standing with two friends. Thank the Lord, I thought, that I've escaped judgmental eyes from upstairs. I approached Gina and her friends who, within seconds, said the following:

"Wow, we just watched you make out with some guy upstairs for half an hour. Way to go!!!!" Shit. Feeling slightly retarded, I tried to salvage my pride but failed miserably in the process. Grabbing my eggplant colored coat from the coat check, I stumbled outside where I walked home alone. I had regressed. I know Randy is bad for me... he does not help my self esteem no matter how many times he says really romantic things like "you're just so hot, I wanna put it in you." I have to cut off this relationship once and for all. No more Randy!!

....We'll see how it goes next week, I suppose.

3, 2, 1, Liftoff!

Finally, haphazardly, and with senior theses deadlines looming like thick, dark clouds over our heads we've arrived at our temporary blogspot home! Think of it as a furnished summer sublet you can frolic in for a while as you wait for your new house to... waaait. Ok, maybe it's more like we lost the keys to our "blog" house. But this metaphor is neither here nor there. Damn. This metaphor fucking sucks... 'Point is:

WE'RE LIVE AND BLOGGING!!!

I guess I got a bit too eager so I've slapped up this first post without much thought. That's all good though--I don't expect an outpouring of wisdom in the following weeks. We'll be feeling out the blog and topics we enjoy for a time at the beginning as we find our voice. Fingers crossed: offensive and durrrty material will become posting staples.

Food for thought: the 2nd bottle of Charles Shaw cabernet-sauvignon tastes like rainbows.

Have a wonderful Monday night!