east vs. west: a tale of two baseball games

I recently had the opportunity to attend two baseball games on opposite coasts within two days of each other. I'm a huge baseball fan so this really shouldn't surprise anyone. The first game I attended was on the 3rd at Angel Stadium, the first Angel game following the tragic death of pitcher Nick Adenhart. It was the first game of their series with the Red Sox, a rematch of last year's AL Championship.

The game was awesome but incredibly sad. Before the game, I visited the Adenhart memorial set up by fans right outside the main entrance. There were multiple Adenhart tributes before, during, and after the game. His image and number had been put up on the outfield wall and, on their way out to the field, players touched the image on the wall.

 

  

 

 Needless to say, the Angels played some inspired ball. It was a great game, offensively and defensively. The Angels won and eventually took the series that weekend, 2-1.

I flew the red eye to DC Sunday night and got in Monday morning (the 6th). After a quick nap, Jesse and I headed to Nationals Stadium for the Nats home opener. The Phillies were in town and there were tons of Phillies fans there.  

I like the Nats and want them to succeed but I will always be an Angels fan first.  The Nats can be a very eye-roll-inducing team.  There was a lot of offense in the game, but there were a couple of Nats errors that were a bit frustrating to watch.  After a string of frustration, Jesse and I took a tour of the stadium to see what was new this year.

Besides the fun presidential bobbleheads and the addition of another Ben's Chili Bowl concession stand, there were these incredibly creepy looking statues. I think they were supposed to be old Senators players in motion. Well, it's really hard to recreate motion in a statue, but someone thought this would be a good idea. Maybe in theory. But in practice, we've got these monstrosities greeting you upon entering the main entrance:

 

  

  

 

Thankfully, I saw the presidential bobbleheads soon after that nightmarish sight.

The Nats eventually lost the game after a late rally fell short. I have a feeling it's going to be very long season for the Nats.

Maybe not for the Angels though...

pretty in pink (blossoms)

From my trip to see the cherry blossoms yesterday:

 

  

  

  

 

 

 

For the full collection, check out the set on my Flickr page.

FYI: simulated explosion near key bridge today

For those of you who haven't heard...

For the filming of a TV pilot, there will be a simulated explosion on Wednesday March 25 between 9:30 a.m. and noon near Key Bridge in the District. The explosion will produce a 20 to 30' fireball that will last for approximately 2 minutes.

Please pass along this information to others appropriate. The Department of Homeland Security and D.C. Police and Fire departments have been notified, along with the Washington Airports Authority. The Virginia State Patrol and Arlington Police Department will be contacted. If you have additional questions, contact Kathy Hollinger or Burt Warner with the DC Film Office at 202-727-6608.

The explosion will take place on the Potomac River just north of the Key Bridge and Jack's Boathouse (K / Water Street, NW under the Whitehurst Freeway). In the scene to be filmed, there will be six (6) sculling boats on the Potomac River and one of them blows up.

CBS Paramount television is filming a pilot titled "Washington Field." This is a new television series about the elite Washington field office of the FBI and a team of agents with exceptional and diverse skills who are called together for only the most critical cases.

SOURCE: DC's Office of Public Affairs

UPDATE: the title of this post has been modified so as not to create any panic.

3%? really? well, color me unsurprised

On Monday, the DC Department of Health released its 2008 HIV/AIDS epidemiology report and the results created quite an uproar in the District. The report shows that DC has an HIV/AIDS prevalence rate of 3%, which is higher than the HIV/AIDS prevalence in West Africa.

While the rest of the city was up in arms and asking the DC HIV/AIDS Administration (HAA) how could they have let this happen, I shrugged my shoulders and went about my work. To me, the news wasn't particularly shocking. I've read the whole report (managed to read all 80 pages while commuting on the Metro this week) and nothing in it was news to me.

The fact is that those of us on the front lines already know that this city has a major HIV/AIDS problem. Maybe those of us in the field have become very jaded with whatever HAA puts out there. HAA has certainly let us down in the past.

HAA could've done something to prevent this awhile ago and they definitely should've seen this coming. But HAA has a reputation of...well...not doing enough (to put it mildly). HAA cannot even collect the right data, enough data, relevant data, and has even UNDERREPORTED the number of AIDS deaths for about 10 years. The lack of accurate data has led to the loss of millions of dollars in funding--funding that could be used to develop and execute effective prevention strategies.

From an epidemiological perspective, accurate data is of utmost importance in accessing an epidemic. How else would we know what populations are most effected, what risk behaviors are HIV+ people engaging in, what neighborhoods are hit hardest, etc.? HAA has seen many incompetent directors come and go over the years and the current director, Dr. Shannon Hader, has her work cut out for her. Not only does she have to deal with the crap left behind by previous directors who had no idea what they were doing, but she also has to deal with the crisis we are experiencing now (she's like Obama but on a smaller scale).

I have a bit of a soft spot for Dr. Hader. She's a public health nerd (or so I've read) so she has to know how important accurate record keeping is. Dr. Hader's got a long way to go, but I believe that she is capable of turning things around at HAA.

But she's got to act quickly. Thanks to this epidemic, time is a luxury we don't have.

OH. EM. GEE. best inauguration ever!

After debating for many days whether or not I would be willing to brave the cold and crowds on inauguration day, I decided to let the following pros from this list win me over:

• Want to experience Obama euphoria again (Obama euphoria def.--the feeling of extreme happiness when surrounded by Obama supporters/volunteers while volunteering for the campaign)
• Because seriously, when am I going to be this excited over an inauguration again?

So, as expected, Metro effed up big time. Using their special inauguration guide, we decided that it would be best to avoid Metro Rail and take the special Metro bus (16B) down Columbia Pike into the mall. According to the guide, this was the special bus line to take. We boarded said bus (which even had a sign outside the bus proclaiming "take this bus to the inauguration!") and when it arrived at Pentagon Metro Station, we were instructed to get off the bus because it was not going to the mall. Ummm...that's not what the Metro guide said. I thought we were doing the right thing by avoiding Metro rail, but instead we were forced to take it. A sternly worded email to Metro is forthcoming.

Metro rail was such a mess that we had to take the Blue line in the opposite direction, all the way to Franconia (that's the last stop of the line for you Cali peeps) just to insure that we could get on the train in the right direction (towards Largo). Over two hours after our journey began, we found ourselves walking to the mall from Foggy Bottom station and found a nice spot between the Washington Monument and the White House to watch the festivities on the jumbotron.

After I booed at the many times Bush came into view and after I cheered at every Billary sighting and after I cried during the swearing in of both Joe Biden and Barack Obama AND after I cheered and cried during the inaugural address, we headed home via the Memorial Bridge. But not before we saw the Shrub one last time.

In giant effigy form.




Reminiscent of this statue:

image via news.bbc.co.uk

That would be Saddam Hussein if you recall.

And this would be the toppling of the Hussein statue.

image via news.bbc.co.uk

And in true regime toppling fashion, the Bush statue had to come down too.


It's the end of an error! Ding, dong, the Bush era--and its constitution-snubbing, human-rights-violating, world-enraging policies--is dead!

And these Obama supporters couldn't be more grateful!

jaded in the city: on rats and people who jerk off

Have you heard about the District's Rat Free DC campaign? The ads are all over the Metro buses and DOH has some informational brochures about it.

I was walking in the city with my coworker when a bus with a Rat Free DC ad drove by and I said, "Ha! The day DC is rat free is..."

I paused to come up with something snarky. My coworker finished for me: "The day there is affordable housing in the city!"

Yup. And even then, there are still the politicians. Can't get rid of those rats.

*********

Last week, I was walking to the Metro from work and I came across a homeless man in front of a 7-11. His hands were down the front of his pants. Whenever a girl walked by, his hand got a little...ummm...jumpy? excited? vigorous? It didn't take long for me to figure out that he was jerking off.

I looked for a cop (is jerking off in public a crime? I didn't see any peen, but the jerking off seemed a bit out of place) and I saw about 3 cop cars literally across the street. I tried to get their attention but the 4 cops were too busy looking down on another homeless man that would simply not get up. Probably too drunk. Not sure why it took 4 cops to attend to one homeless man, but what do I know?

All I know is that a homeless man was jerking off. Because I couldn't flag down a cop, I decided to point him out to a rent a cop (was he on duty? who knows?) and I headed home (I just HAD to tell someone with some kind of authority. I couldn't just do nothing).

When I told Jesse this story, he was incredibly grossed out and refused to listen to any details of the situation. Yeah, it was gross. But I'm sure I've seen worse, even though I can't think of it now. I mean, even now, I remain relatively indifferent in telling you.

And perhaps, that's the scary part. I'm so jaded by living here that people who jerk off in public aren't that big of a deal.

hey, DC voters! i have an endorsement just for you

Last week, I gave you my official endorsement for president. This week, I give you my official endorsement for ANC.

Please vote for Juan Lopez for ANC1B07. He is incredibly dedicated to his community and a voice for change in the ever-growing Columbia Heights neighborhood. While I do not live in DC, I happen to work in Columbia Heights. Additionally, a lot of my clients live in Columbia Heights. So what happens in this neighborhood is incredibly important to them, therefore, incredibly important to me. And with the two recent murders this neighborhood has had, I think we need someone in the community itself to step up and commit to improving it.

That man is Juan Lopez.

Just to put it all out there, I know Juan Lopez personally. I know him to be a passionate and caring individual. He's been involved in politics for a very long time and definitely has the experience to be a community leader. If you'd like to get to know him better too, I encourage you to visit his website.

Vote Juan Lopez for ANC1B07!

DC and the transient nature of its residents

Today is my DC-versary. On this day 6 years ago, I left my family and friends behind and moved to DC, a city with no family or friends of mine. I knew no one and despite the fact that I was not alone in not knowing anyone, it took me a while to find friends. Sure, you can always find someone to go to happy hour with. Someone to drink your sorrows away with. But as far as true, honest to goodness, loyal peeps you can always count on to talk to when the going gets tough--yeah, those are very rare in this city.

My problem is that I find that one true friend and then the friend moves away. This has happened to me multiple times. Sometimes they're an intern and their internship is over and now it's time to go back to her real home. Or maybe it's a job as a contractor and the job is now up. Or maybe he decides to buy a home with the boyfriend whose job is taking him to another city. Or maybe she can't find a good job and has to move home where good jobs are abundant. OR maybe they just happened to apply and get into very prestigious PhD/Masters programs and therefore need to move abroad/to Princeton/to the Midwest. Yes, all of these have happened to me. The last one is the latest reason why three of my good friends are leaving me at the end of this summer.

You're probably all thinking, well, OC girl, you can totally maintain these friendships despite the distance. Yes, that's true. And with everyone who has left me and DC before, I have attempted to do so. In fact, the aforementioned intern is someone I still consider a great and true friend. However, that doesn't work for everyone. When it comes to friendships, distance doesn't necessarily make the heart grow fonder. In fact, distance is often a deal killer. Long distance friendships take work (right, Cali peeps?) and if only one person puts in the effort (such as what happened between me and the boy who bought a place with boyfriend in another city), then the friendship very easily falls apart.

Gone are the conciliatory drinks and coffee breaks ("I'm so sorry I've been so busy. Let's meet for drinks on Friday and catch up!"). Instead, unreturned emails and phone calls abound.

Although I am really happy that my friends are moving along academically (M with her Masters program and S and V with their PhD programs), I am really, really upset to see them go...all at the same time. It's this constant cycle of good people coming into and out of my life and, although I've tolerated the departures of my friends in the past, this time I want to put my foot down and scream, "NO!"

I understand that the revolving door of friendships keeps turning because people keep coming to and leaving DC. This city doesn't seem to be the place where one stays (unless you're in the military or politics or both) and settles and raises a family. In the long journey of life, DC is like a pitstop where one refuels or gets a tune up and then moves on to the next destination refreshed and re-energized. Why don't people stay for longer than a few years? This place isn't so bad. Yeah, I complain about it all the time (really, it's the weather and the people who think everything revolves around them). But it's still a nice place to be.

Sometimes I look at Jesse and what he's got and I'm jealous. Jesse has lived in Northern Virginia since he moved here from Charlottesville as a wee lad. Jesse has the same group of friends that he's had since elementary school. The group grew in size when they added new friends in high school and college. And still, all of his friends are all here, living in NoVA and still hanging out. A big group of guys (and a couple of girls) who grew up together and managed to stay friends through it all. Yeah, I definitely get jealous.

The truth is (and I know this sounds incredibly selfish) I just really wish my friends were here with me all the time that way I wouldn't miss them so much.

so maybe the tourists aren't that bad

It's that time of year again, peeps. Once cherry blossom season comes around, we all know what that means. The tourists are coming! The tourists are coming!

Normally, I dread this time of year. In the past, I've been fairly anti-tourist, mostly because they tend to delay my comings and goings (like by not standing to the right on the Metro escalators and stopping at the top or bottom of the escalator to figure out where they want to go). I've written about my disdain for tourists many times, including the post Wonkette picked up that led many a Wonkette reader to wish for my death (and tell me so; I deleted those comments long ago as I was a young blogger then and had no idea people could be so mean).

But I think I know better now.

The difference is that I no longer work downtown. For some reason, tourists aren't flocking to the Green Line and joining me on my journey to Mount Pleasant, where I work. What? Don't they want to see our cool, new Target? Hey, we've even got two Starbucks, literally right across the street from each other? Alas, the tourists don't want that. They want cherry blossoms and monuments. They want the White House and the Smithsonians. They want the Red, Blue, and Orange Lines. Not the Green.

So imagine my surprise when I saw a tourist and her tourist son on the bus ride home to Arlington. They had all the classic signs of Tourist-y-ness: The 'I heart DC' t-shirts and the mom had a fanny back and the son was carrying a big Smithsonian gift shop shopping bag. Yup, they were out-of-towners. It was kinda cute actually--my first close encounter with a tourist this tourist season.

While Kate Nash blared in my ear courtesy of my iPod, the tourist mom asked the women next to me for directions. When we got to my bus stop, she and her son got off with me. And then they stopped. Tourist mom started looking around, as if trying to figure out where she was. Holy crap, I thought. The tourists must be lost. And the woman's face could not hide her confusion.

I did something I hadn't done with a tourist in a really long time. I asked her if she needed help. Her face lit up when I did so. And I gave her directions.

Me: Well, you want to cross the street and wait at the bus stop over there. When the (blank) or (blank) bus comes, you jump on that and ride for about 10 minutes. That should take you to your hotel.
Tourist: Thanks. Is there anything to eat around here or my hotel, do you know?
Me: Oh no, there's nothing around your hotel. You're better off eating here. You can go to (blank) or (blank) and about a block away is (blank).
Tourist: I might want to write this down.
Me: Here, let me. (scribbling)
Tourist: Oh wow. Thank you so much. Really, that is so nice of you.
Me: Eh, no worries. Oh and if the wait for the bus is too long after dinner, you can take a cab. Considering the distance, it should cost no more than $7 to get from here to your hotel. Whatever's easiest for you...
Tourist: I really do appreciate all of your help.
Me: Yup, no problem.

I walked away and realized how good it felt to help that woman out. I thought to myself, Yeah, I might just have to do that again. Like tomorrow.

a scandalous affair in DC? No way!

I was at a conference on Monday and I left it around lunch time (I’ve been quite the busy worker bee so I apologize for the absence of posts). My coworker and I jumped in a cab and headed to the office. We got stuck in traffic on M St.

While waiting at the light on M St. and Connecticut Ave., our cab driver, who hadn’t really tried to spark up a conversation earlier, said, “I feel sorry for that driver.” My coworker and I looked at each other and mouthed, “What did he say? Is he talking to us?” I asked him to repeat and he said, “The driver in front of us…poor guy.” My coworker and I looked at the cab in front of us and saw an older gentleman (probably in his late 50s, early 60s) with a woman (in her 40s, tops) making out in the back seat. They were going at it like animals on the Discovery Channel. It was like nothing I had ever seen in public during the day, in a cab stuck in traffic.

Quick confession: Actually, this has happened to Jesse and me, but it was late at night and dark with no traffic and we were both drunk and we couldn’t help ourselves. I wonder if Jesse remembers…

Anyway, like the train wreck that is Britney Spears, my coworker and I couldn’t help but watch. It was rather intriguing. The woman, who initially appeared to be sitting next to her lover as they made out, apparently was a master contortionist. Her body was completely twisted around; her back was facing the cab driver.

My coworker said, “Awww…that’s so cute. I hope that when my fiancée and I have been married for a long time we still make out like that.” I looked at my naïve coworker and said, “I don’t think they’re married. Well, he probably is, but that’s not his wife in the cab with him. I bet you he’s having an affair and this is their lunch time quickie.”

Our cabbie turned to me and nodded his head in agreement. He said, "I think you're right." My coworker said, “Really? That’s so sad.” The realist in me replied, “For all we know, that could be some congressman or something and they’re on their way to their rendezvous hotel.” And that was when we noticed that the woman could not possibly be sitting next to her lover. She was apparently sitting ON her lover. I screamed, “Oh my God, she’s on top of him!” We watched in shock as the woman writhed on her lover and the lover sucked on her neck.

Eventually, we lost them. I was hoping we could see if they were heading to a hotel.

But I REALLY hope the man had a briefcase with him so that he could get out of the cab discreetly.

driving in dc is bad for my health

Yesterday was my first day commuting to work by car. It will hopefully be my last. I actually missed the bus (as in longed to be inside the smelly confines of the Metro bus and comfortably seated next to Crazy Woman). But I had to drive Jesse’s car into the city yesterday as I was going straight to BWI from work to pick him up. Yes, peeps, my boo finally came home (and as a result, I got the best sleep EVER last night).

My commute into the city wasn’t so bad. I opted to take 50 to the Key Bridge and get on the Whitehurst Freeway. Right before getting on Key Bridge, I noticed that some people don’t know how to merge properly. If a line of cars is attempting to merge into your lane, doesn’t it make sense for every driver to let one car go in front of you that way both your lane and the merging lane are still moving (albeit slowly, but surely at least)? Well, that’s not what was happening on Monday morning. And I felt really bad for those people trying to get on the bridge from 66.

When I finally got to the West End (where my employer is located), my head had started to hurt...and I was relieved to finally get out of the car. I showed up to work a whole hour early because I wasn’t sure just how much traffic I was going to encounter. Not too much apparently.

The afternoon drive was vastly different from my morning commute. Driving through the city during rush hour is a nightmare. Ok, yes, this is straight out of the Book of Duh, but for someone who could only previously speculate as to how bad traffic in DC is at rush hour, I was struck by how horrendous it truly was. And this is coming from someone who grew up in southern California, where presumably I have spent about 33% of my life sitting in traffic.

It took me over an hour to get from the West End to New York Avenue.

And my headache returned.

I was greeted by bumper to bumper traffic on NY Avenue. Oh yippee! Once we passed Florida Avenue, people were cutting each other off and I couldn’t understand why. Each lane was moving slowly. What was the point of cutting someone off to get into a lane that was moving .25 mph faster than the one you were in? My headache worsened.

Eventually I got onto 295, where I was greeted by congestion. After a couple of miles of relatively stress-free driving, I saw brake lights for as far as my eyes could see. Apparently, I was in for some stop and go traffic. I had plenty of time to look around while sitting in traffic. For awhile, I drove alongside a gentleman who was reading a book. Yup, he had propped his book on the steering wheel and was reading while occasionally pushing on the accelerator. If only I could master the art of multitasking while driving safely...

I turned on the radio to listen to the traffic report for the first time ever since I moved here. Apparently, there was an accident on the Parkway. For 45 minutes, I wondered how bad the accident was. I wondered if it would take forever for an accident to clear. I wondered if either of the two lanes were free (yes, California blog peeps, TWO LANES each way on a MAJOR HIGHWAY). 45 minutes of stop and go later, I came upon the scene of the accident. It had been cleared to the side of the road so neither lane was blocked. However, there was some hard core rubber necking going on which was the reason why traffic had backed up. Ugh. Is the 5 second viewing of the scene of an accident enough to cause a substantial delay on everyone’s trip home/to BWI? Come on, fellow drivers! Let’s just ignore the smashed up vehicles that are not physically impeding progress on the road! After all, don't you want to get home?

By the time I got to BWI’s cell phone lot, I had been in the car for 2.5 hours. And I could feel it. The migraine. I could feel the tingling in my extremities. The tightness around my forehead. The nausea in my belly. Driving in traffic in the DC metropolitan area had given me a migraine. I can't believe that people make this kind of commute every day.

On the way back home, I had only one question. Can someone please tell me why there isn’t an easy way to get from 295 to 395? Like some kind of connecting ramp or bridge or something? Is that too much to ask for?

west side vs. east side

I’m kind of in a Cali mood today (the weather has certainly helped). I've thought a lot about home and DC and why I’m here and why I wish I never left. I remember when I was in junior high, my advisor told me that I should make a list of pros and cons whenever making a difficult decision. Sounds pretty basic, right? Except I never really ever made this list before I moved away. I just assumed that DC was the right choice for me and my career. That implies that I didn’t find the decision difficult—which is true. However, every once in a while, I find it really difficult to stay here.

So, here are my lists, 5 years too late:

Reasons why California is better than DC

1. The average temperature year round is 75 degrees. It seldom varies by 10 degrees or more. Kinda takes the thinking out of planning what to wear.
2. The rain is only during winter months (there are two—December and January).
3. That means good hair days most of the year. And a regular visit with my colorist.
4. The beach is less than 30 minutes away (unless you live in the I.E. but if you do, being far from the beach isn’t your only problem).
5. The scenery is always nice, whether you are staring out into the ocean or you’re checking out the boys surfing.
6. People are nicer. Jesse thinks it’s the year round exposure to sun. I just think people are more laid back in Cali.
7. Flip flops. Every day. Every month.
8. Oh my! Liberals as far as the eyes can see!
9. My family, friends, and dog are in Cali.
10. Probably the only state with snow in the mountains, proximity to the ocean, vast deserts, and dense woods.
    

Why DC is better than California

1. Seasons—well, only Spring and Fall. The other two I could do without.
2. History—Monuments and all of that stuff are pretty cool to visit, even if you haven’t done it since you first moved here.
3. Museums—the Smithsonians are free!
4. Tai Shan—yes, he’s about the same size as an adult panda now, but he will always be our little Butterstick.
5. Gary, my hairstylist, is here (although I could probably convince him to move to Cali with me).
6. DC is very walkable (which is good, considering how reliable the Metro is).
   

Ok. I’m done. I can’t think of anything else. Can you?


This post was inspired by this article: California voted best state to live in

'white bitch' and other insults thrown my way

I’ve been a little stressed about my career lately and I feel kinda stuck. I need to keep reminding myself that I am now much better off than I was two years ago, back when I was working retail.

I started working for The Crap during my senior year of college. I just wanted to work there for the discount, which was incredibly generous compared to other retailers. After I graduated college, I knew that I wanted to take a break before grad school so I focused on acquiring some internships. Unfortunately, though the internships I worked were amazing opportunities in public health policy work, they were unpaid. So, I kept my job at The Crap. And then one day, I was asked if I had ever considered being a supervisor.

Honestly, no, I hadn’t ever considered moving up in my Crap career. After all, the goal was grad school and a career in public health—not to become a retail lifer. But the lure of more money was too strong. Knowing that I needed to start saving money for a move across the country, I accepted the promotion. Unfortunately, my work ethic forces me to do as well as possible in everything that I do…including that which I am not so passionate about (The Crap management career). So my supervisor promotion was soon a promotion to manager which eventually was a promotion to Associate Store Manager, a position I held the longest because of my unwillingness to move on to the next step—Store Manager. The whole while, I never lost sight of the ultimate goal. I attended grad school while working at the Crap, which was convenient because of the pay and flexible scheduling. But The Crap was emotionally draining.

I took an emotional beating every day. I sustained verbal abuse from people I would otherwise consider my peers EVERY single day. After 6 years of dealing with it, I was very happy to get a public health job and never look back. Unfortunately, some instances stick out in my mind.

• Like that time I was arguing with a woman who wanted to return a pair of jeans she had so obviously worn. The sales associate refused to return them and sought my opinion at the request of the customer. I backed up my sales associate. This is just one of many liars I encountered as a Crap employee. At my refusal to accept the pair, the woman continued to cause a scene, insisting that she had never worn the jeans (“You sayin’ I’ma liar? Cuz I ain’t no liar! You betta know what you sayin’!). I stated my case by showing her the creases at the thighs and behind the knees that show up when one wears a pair of pants. I was one step away from smelling them (always my last resort), when I picked them up. As I shook them gently, a USED thong came out of the pant leg. I used the pant leg to pick them up and said, “I’m assuming this is YOUR thong that has obviously been worn.” She took the jeans and thong and walked away, clearly ashamed.

• Another time (same store as above), I was working a typical crazy Saturday evening. A woman had come in, done her shopping, and placed some items on hold. Later, another (Crazy)woman came in, snuck into the holds area, saw the woman’s items on hold and wanted them for herself. I refused to sell them to her. The woman was likely to come the following day to purchase them and she had the right to place them on hold. The Crazy Woman insisted they were hers. However, I had placed the items on hold for the first woman so I remembered what she looked like. I continued to refuse to sell them to her. In turn, she decided to make a scene. She stayed until after the store was closed, yelling at me in front of my staff. “You are a White bitch, you know that? You are the White devil! I curse you and your family! Do you hear that? I curse you! And I wish nothing but misfortune on your offspring and all future generations! You White devil!” I stood there stunned. I thought to myself, I’m not White. And I don’t think I’m the devil. Sure she made me uncomfortable, but it’s still not the worst I’ve heard.

• While ringing up customers on a busy day, I assisted a Latina woman and her companion at the register. Normally, I would make pleasant conversation with my customers. However, since the two women were engaged in a conversation, I didn’t say too much to them because I didn't want to interrupt. Still, I wasn’t rude. For whatever reason, the Latina woman called me a “gringa estupida.” I’m not sure why she said this, but they were obviously under the impression that I am not Mexican (who can speak and understand Spanish). So I replied with “Le gustaria aplicar para una tarjeta del Crap?” (“Would you like to apply for a Crap card?”). The Latina woman said no and was stunned into silence after that.

• The worst one was when I was at my second to last store. I refused to give cash to a Russian man who had paid for his purchase with a credit card. Our policy was to get back what you give (meaning your refund comes in the same form as your type of payment) so I couldn’t give him cash. This set him off. Both he and his fellow Russian companion berated me (yes, in front of my staff) for not giving him cash. He called me ‘stupid,’ ‘just a shop girl,’ and assured me that I ‘would never amount to anything.’ After a call to corporate, who surprisingly backed me up, the man left. But the impression he left on me remains. It was the first and only time a customer had made me cry. You can call me White. You can call me a bitch. But don’t you dare call me stupid.

I should mention that all of this abuse started when I moved here. No customer had ever insulted me when I had worked for The Crap in California. I can’t explain it, but for some reason, people here feel the need to treat retail employees like shit. In turn, the customers don’t get the best customer service. After getting put down day after day, it’s really hard for a retail employee to just forget it and put on a smiling face for the next customer to potentially put them down. Some retail employees just end up being glorified register operators—sure they can sell, but if someone is going to be rude to them, why be nice?

The common retort to that argument is that customer service is supposed to be the job. My rebuttal—yeah, but retail employees are human too.

Don’t use them as your punching bag just because they can’t fight back.

why the west coast will always be home to me

I got back into DC two nights ago and I was greeted by a familiar feeling as soon as I got off of the plane—humidity. Sure, it was just after 9 p.m. and the sun had set long ago, but the humidity smacked me right in the face, a not-so-subtle reminder that I was no longer home. Even before I stepped off of the plane, a feeling of dread had pervaded my stomach. I didn’t really want to come back here.

There are times when I go home to visit and I can’t wait to get back to the East Coast. Usually, this feeling is brought on by family drama, which I would rather escape from than perpetuate. But since my niece was born, it gets much harder and harder to leave, regardless of family drama. And when Jesse comes to Cali with me, we’re entering a whole new level of difficulty leaving. For me, Jesse completes the family circle. I lack nothing. And when you have everything you want in one place, why would you want to leave?

As soon as we settled into our connecting flight in Texas, I turned to Jesse and said, “I don’t want to go.” Jesse, replied, in his most soothing voice, “It’s ok.” I shook my head. My head knows that eventually I will be ok. Eventually, I will return to work and the gym and the Metro and the routine of my life will fall back into place. But my heart knows that there will be a tiny part of me that will refuse to forget home—the family, the friends (who are practically family), my perfectly happy and intelligent niece, my doggie, my fabulous colorist, the perfect weather, the feeling of the sand through my toes and the ocean breeze through my hair. Damn that tiny part of me.

Last night, while going through pictures of our trip, my West Coast Withdrawal took over me. I sat there looking at the many pictures Jesse and I took (as soon as I'm done organizing them, I will post some of them here), thinking about how happy we were and how much I hated leaving. However, I refuse to regret moving here. If I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met my friends, I wouldn’t have my job and a career in public health, and (most importantly) I would never have met Jesse. Had I not moved here, I wouldn’t be the person I am now and honestly, I kinda like her.

The truth is that I actually have it pretty good here (despite the weather which I will never, EVER get used to). But it’s still not quite home.

kids, sex, and AIDS

Last week, I had the opportunity to attend an ACTION lunch (ACTION = AIDS Clinical Trials Information & Orientation), hosted by the DC Care Consortium. It was my first one and I was super excited. The topic for the lunch was kids and HIV/AIDS.

They screened a movie at the lunch which spurred a lively discussion. The movie was called Please Talk to Kids about AIDS. It was a documentary-style film of two girls, ages 4 and 6, who attended the last International AIDS Conference. The little girls walked around the conference interviewing some of the top peeps in the AIDS world (i.e. Anthony Fauci of the NIH, Kevin Decock of the WHO, etc) and others who are working to make a difference and/or speaking out about their experience with HIV. The girls’ questions and interactions with these people were not scripted.

Now, as you could imagine the girls asked these people some very (seemingly) basic questions about the virus and AIDS, such as Why is AIDS bad and What does HIV do. And some of these top AIDS peeps couldn’t really give any answers a child would easily make sense of. It was interesting to see these experts in their field using scientific terms that a child couldn’t possibly understand (heck, some adults probably couldn’t either). I imagine this is because these AIDS directors, who work for some of the most internationally recognized medical organizations in the world, are so used to speaking to knowledgeable audiences that they found themselves incapable (at a moments notice) to go down to the level of a child’s understanding. However, there were some who did speak to the children with a refreshing amount of honesty (no sugar-coating here) and with words the girls could get (one of them—Laurie Garrett, I want to say—actually used hand gestures and props to explain to the girls how HIV invades the body).

And speaking of a child’s understanding, I think the girls definitely held their own. They also ventured to the exhibit portion of the conference and met some of the more colorful characters there, including a man dressed in drag (who provided one of the more lighthearted interactions with the girls as he tried to explain to them why he was a man dressed as a woman) and a representative from The Condom Project, an organization that raises awareness of condom use through innovative ways, such as using condoms in art (this representative asked the girls if they knew the meaning of the word “demystify” as she tried to explain her organization’s purpose).

Here are my take-aways from the movie and ensuing discussion:

• Just because you talk to kids about a presumably adult topic doesn’t mean they are going to go out and put themselves at risk. In fact, I’m willing to bet that these girls are going to grow up and actually use the information they learned to arm themselves against this disease. Why do I feel that way? Well, mostly because these adults that took the time to explain the nitty-gritty of the HIV/AIDS to them were open and truthful. The HIV-positive people they spoke to were even more so. And it was ok.

• The younger you talk to your kids about these difficult topics, the better. If you wait too long (or until you’re ready), your kids may already be exposing themselves. I imagine that as a parent, it would be hard to address such topics with your kids, but I’d rather get over my personal hang-ups about the issue then to allow my kids put themselves in danger. You might never be ready. In my opinion, silence equals allowance. Your silence will not only allow these kids to get their information elsewhere, but it will also keep you in the dark. The reality is that kids these days are doing things we would never have imagined doing when we were kids. If this is a possibility you don’t even want to think of, get over it.

• Kids have a higher capacity for tolerance than adults. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised as kids are born innocent and are eventually corrupted by their environments (it made me sad to type that just now but it’s true). But I watched as those kids talked to sex workers and drag queens with complete ease and I got emotional. I was just in awe of these girls’ capacity to unconditionally accept these people, people who are otherwise considered (by some) to be on the outside of mainstream society. I often become idealistic at moments like these and just think, if everyone had the same capacity for tolerance as these two little girls do, then the stigma from having HIV/AIDS would be gone and no longer in issue. If the stigma is no longer an issue, then people would be more willing to get tested and to seek treatment. And most importantly, people who don’t have HIV would be more willing to show compassion for those who do. A little love and acceptance really does go a long way.

Anyways, I wish I could show you a clip of this movie but there isn’t one. If you would like more information about the movie, check out this link. If you are interested in future ACTION lunches, check out the Fight HIV in DC blog (which is an excellent guide to DC’s AIDS activism).

ok, i'm ready for the fun to start

I’m feeling a little frustrated. Bear with me while I rant.

Jesse’s friend, who currently lives in AZ but is from VA, is coming to visit for a week or so. Jesse and friend had the great idea of hosting a tailgate for the 4th of July Nats game. Naturally, I had to be involved in the planning. I’ve thrown quite a few parties in my time and I’d like to think that I know what I’m doing when it comes to planning these things.

So an Evite was sent. And people responded. And those people who said they were coming decided to take it upon themselves to invite more people (and I don’t mean their S.O.’s…I mean, groups of other people). So now we have a lot more people than Jesse, Jesse’s friend, and I were originally planning for. Instead of booze and food for 10 people, we need to accommodate 20-25. Ok, I can deal.

And then the grill fell through today. Neither Jesse nor I have a grill of any kind (kitchen or outdoor) so we were counting on a friend to help us out. What kind of a tailgate doesn’t have a grill? Actually, I can answer that one myself…the kind with only booze and snacks. I’m sure that’s fine for most people, but when you put the word ‘tailgate’ on an invitation, most people expect hamburgers and hot dogs (in addition to lots of beer). Clearly, I can’t deal with not having a grill. We’re currently looking into our options.

So, what’s a grill-less tailgater to do? Yeah, I don’t know either.

I just wanted the tailgate to be fun. It’s not that often that so many different groups of our friends get together and have a good time. I was hoping everything would be perfect. And I fear that it won’t be. And that people won’t have a good time. And what if people are disappointed that there are no hot dogs? My only consolation is that the drinkers will be plenty satisfied.

I sit here wanting to pull my hair out. And Jesse is just Mr. Cool over there..with his “Don’t worry”s and “Everything will be alright”s. Just once, I would love it if Jesse shared in a freak out with me. Just once. He’s just too damn stoic and calm sometimes (granted, I find these qualities quite sexy most of the time).

Who knew that planning a party would be so stressful?

yet another trojan moves to DC

Dear Nick Young,

You don’t know me but I wanted to be one of the first to welcome you to the nation’s capital. I'm sure you were hoping the Clippers or the Lakers would pick you. But DC isn't so bad. As a fellow Trojan and fellow life-long Californian, I thought you might want to know a couple of things about living here. I heard that you’ve never lived outside of LA and let me tell you, it’s a whole other world out here. Here are a couple of pointers:

• A lot of the highways here are 4 lanes wide (that’s two lanes per direction). Apparently aesthetics are far more important than efficiency. I know that it’s crazy so don’t even try to understand it.

• There’s always traffic here. So if you thought leaving LA meant that you were going to leave traffic jams behind, you are mistaken.
  

• It gets unbearably hot here during the summer. If I were you, I would fly back home as soon as the season ends. There’s no point in sweating it out in this swamp. Also, can you take me with you?

• G. Wiz is no Tommy Trojan. He’s pretty dorky looking and definitely doesn’t inspire fear in the hearts of your opponents with a commanding presence. Also, when G. Wiz comes out on the court, he doesn’t have a song. No “Conquest,” no Traveler, no Tommy. However, G. Wiz does throw Chipotle burritos out into the crowd so that’s a nice plus.

• Whatever you do, don't get injured. *knocking on wood*
  

• Don’t worry about fitting in with the Wiz. First off, you have a fellow Angeleno in Gilbert Arenas, arguably the best guy on the team. Secondly, you’re a shooter. You and Caron can bond about that. And third, you’re not exactly known for your defensive skills. This makes you perfect for the Wiz, who are also not known for their defense.

• If you stay out of trouble, this town is going to love you. This town will love you even more if you turn out to be the second coming of Gilbert Arenas.

Well, this is all I’ve got for now. Hope you love it here. Can’t wait to see you at the Verizon Center next year. You’ve finally given me a legitimate reason to wear my USC stuff to a Wiz game.

Keep an eye out for me. I’ll be the girl in cardinal and gold going mad crazy when you get called off of the bench!

Fight on!
an OC/Trojan girl

how saturday became the best pre-anniversary/gay reunion EVER

Remember my bitchy post on Friday? The one where I whined and whined about how Jesse and I would need to share our pre-anniversary celebration with his friend’s birthday? Well, turns out Saturday ended up being all about us (and all of my favorite gays).

We met up with my boys Dave and Enzo for pre-parade food and drinks. We were in the mood for the margaritas so we dined at La Frontera on 17th on the patio. Unfortunately, we were not seated under an umbrella, so we were melting as quickly as the ice in our margarita pitchers. After lunner (lunch + dinner), we claimed a spot to watch the parade. Soon after, we were visited by my favorite party gay, Jason (the friend that brought Jesse and me together), and we settled down to watch the parade.

Jason, Jesse, and me…reminiscing on that fateful day 3 years ago


Mayor Fenty shows his love for the gays (random photog got in the way of my shot)


The be bar school bus seemed to be a popular hangout


The Freddie’s Beach Bar float was soaking the crowd.


Support from the PFLAG-ers makes my eyes teary every year


The Remington’s boys are always a crowd fave.


The Results Gym float celebrated the upcoming opening of their new location on Connecticut and L St.


How cute are the Zipcar peeps?


Speaking of cute peeps…here are Jason and Jesse…


And my boys, cuties Dave and Enzo


Finally, to wrap up my gay reunion, here I am with my boo, Rene, who finally got to meet Jesse


Three years later and we’re right back where we started…

AND he still gives me butterflies!

We didn’t quite make it to the birthday party (which had a little something to do with my tripping on the sidewalk and scraping up my leg pretty bad). Instead, Jesse and I went home and he bandaged me up and took care of me.

Even though I’m still in some pain because of that fall, it was still the most fun I’ve had at the Pride Parade since I met Jesse.

For the full set of pics from Pride, please check out my flickr page.

hello, Karma? are you there, Karma?

I was walking to the Metro after work yesterday on my way to see Dr. W. As I crossed the street, I saw an elderly couple on the corner. They were both huddled over a map and one of them was wearing a fanny pack. Obviously tourists, I thought to myself. I watched them flip the map over as they were trying to figure out just exactly where they were. In the mad rush to get to where ever it is that we all needed to go, no one stopped to help them.

For a second, I thought that I would just follow the masses and ignore the old people. But for some strange reason, I just couldn’t. Maybe it was the fact that they were old. Or maybe it was the innocent, clueless looks on their faces. Or perhaps I was appreciative that they hadn’t rented a car (for more on how I don’t think old people should drive, click here). Whatever it was, it tugged at my heartstrings. I actually turned around, walked towards the couple and offered my assistance. A look of relief washed over their faces. “Oh thank you, thank you!” the old lady said. I replied, somewhat embarrassed, “Don’t thank me yet. I may not know where you need to go.” The old man said, “Do you know how to get to Georgetown from here?” I answered, “The university or…” The old man interrupted, “No, the little shopping area.” I warned them, “Well, it’s a bit of a walk from here but if you’re up for it, I can tell you how to walk there.” The old lady said, “It’s a pretty day so I don’t mind walking.” I gave them directions and even showed them the route on their little map. They were very, very appreciative. “We would’ve been lost without you,” the old lady said. That old lady sure knew how to tug on those strings. As they both said thank you for the umpteenth time, I wished them a happy stay in G-town and I headed towards the Metro.

On my way there, I thought, Awww…I feel warm fuzzies for helping those people. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so hard on tourists. Yeah, they keep me from getting on the Metro sometimes with their standing on both sides of the escalator and their collective stopping at the doorway to a train, or their collective stopping at the bottom or top of an escalator. But they’re just trying to figure things out like I was when I was a DC intern so long ago. Granted, I always stood on the right and always kept moving, especially during rush hour. However, I can relate to their confusion. It felt good to help that couple.

Just another deposit into the Bank of Karma.

When I got to the Metro station, I remembered that I had a negative balance on my SmarTrip card. I saw two SmarTrip fare card machines. One had a long line of people who seemed to belong to the same group. The other was empty. I went to the empty one. “No SmarTrip” it read across the top. Damn you, broken fare card machine. I walked to the other machine with the long line. Everyone was holding a wad of cash while the person in front worked the machine. Eventually, the person in front figured out how to use the machine. By the time she did so, two more SmarTrip card users had lined up behind me. I heard grumbling behind me, “Couldn’t they just use the regular fare card machines? Why does it have to be the only one that works for SmarTrip?” Clearly she was reading my mind.

Surprisingly, the station manager noticed that there were 7 people in line for this machine and walked over to us yelling, “Who here is trying to get a regular fare card?” The 4 ladies that were part of the bigger group spoke up and the station manager showed them the empty fare card machines that were nearby that they could use. One of them explained, “I didn’t know we could use these. We’re visiting from Texas and all of this is so new to us.” Yeah. Whatevs. Step aside for the locals.

Eventually, I reloaded my SmarTrip card. But I had wasted 15 minutes of my life. That SmarTrip transaction should’ve taken a couple of seconds to complete. If those tourists hadn’t been at the only working SmarTrip card machine, I could’ve been on an earlier train, instead of the one I got on that was delayed at Metro Center. I was late to my appointment. Fortunately, Dr. W was running behind too.

I liked the old couple I helped. I even liked the warm fuzzies I got from helping them. But that may be the last time I help tourists in DC.

having fun despite my nats losing streak

In honor of the Beltway Series, Jesse and I planned a little pre-game tailgate with our friends for Saturday’s game. We were all pretty excited about getting together and looking forward to cheering on the Nats. Not surprisingly, the Nats lost. I say this not because they’re not exactly the best team in baseball. I say this because I can’t remember the last time I attended a Nats game and actually saw them win. Jesse and I are huge baseball fans so we frequent RFK (and Camden Yards) and I just never see the Nats win. Regardless, we had a great time, especially since my friend Roo Roos was visiting this weekend from Philly.

Here I am with my boys, Dave and Roo Roos before the game.


After the game, we had a late dinner at Banana Café, Roo Roos favorite DC restaurant. Here I am with Jesse during dinner.


Even though they missed our tailgate, Jesse’s friends and co-workers, Carl, Anna, and Adrian joined us for the game and dinner.


Here I am with Roo Roos.


Roo Roos wanted to get a pic with the Banana Café sign so here we are with Dave.


Even though the Nats lost, it was an awesome weekend. I love when Roo Roos comes to visit!