Entry 84: Quick Update

So, just a quick update this week, although sometimes I say that and then I get rolling on something and it ends up being a not-so-quick update. But that's the beauty of having a blog with a single-digit readership, I can write whatever and however much I want.

We received and accepted an offer on our condo this week, which is great. I mean it won't be great to move. Moving sucks ass, and I love our neighborhood, but it is great in the sense that if the deal goes through (which isn't a certainty), it will free us up financially. It's not like this condo is a big albatross or anything like that, but we can't really move forward with anything until it's sold. So I'd rather sell it sooner than later. Also, it will be nice to not have to put up with this stupid staged furniture. It might be cute and all, but it's damn impractical. Who sits in a chair where the back barely extends past your belt? Who uses napkin rings at home? And who watches a TV that's not actually a TV, but just a tin box with some shiny plastic affixed to it? Nobody of course.

[Our staged apartment]

Work this week was pretty boring. I had to take a new user customer training course, just to see what it's like, and learn more about our product, but I already knew a lot of what was being taught, so I had a tendency to zone out for prolonged stretches of time. It really was a bad combination of not being super interested in the material and of just being me. I've never been able to learn well from lecture, even if I like the topic. It's just not my thing.

So, I just finished reading Bill Simmons's tome The Book of Basketball. I've never really been a huge basketball fan (that is, compared to football and baseball; compared to the average person I probably am a big fan), and ever since the Sonics were stolen from Seattle, the NBA has basically been dead to me (I'm loving the lockout -- haha, screw you NBA!), but I have to give credit where credit is due. TBOB is freakin' awesome. This guy I met recently offered to lend it to me, so I took it, mainly just to not be rude. Being that's it's approximately 800 pages seemingly half of which are footnotes in tiny print, I didn't intend on finishing it when I started casually flipping through it, but I was quickly hooked, and I read it fairly fast. If you're a hardcore sports nerd, I highly recommend it. If you aren't, I don't.

Speaking of hardcore sports nerds the moving Moneyball is out now. I plan on seeing it soon. I love that it has Brad Pitt in it. It's a much easier sell to S now. A movie largely about baseball statistics, talk about in my wheelhouse. I amazed some people (probably not in a good way) at the sports bar last Sunday, by quoting Dwight Gooden's 1985 triple crown line almost exactly. It was 24-4 record, 268 Ks, and a 1.53 ERA. I said 24-3, 276 Ks (that was the year before), and a 1.53 ERA -- not too shabby, considering Gooden just came up casually in conversation, and it was completely from the top of my head. I then proceed to tell them that John Tudor went 21-8 and had 10 shutouts the same year. Yep, I'd put my knowledge of '85-'87 baseball up there with anybody's. Seriously, if you know somebody who wants to have a mid-80s baseball trivia competition, let me know.

[Dwight Gooden's 1986 Topps baseball card (representing the 1985 season)]

OK. Time to wrap this up. I have to eat dinner and watch a few episodes of Breaking Bad before I meet some friends for a drink (S is at a bachelorette party tonight). I've gotten back into Breaking Bad after a brief hiatus. What a great show. Although, it's a bit like a drug (fitting since it's about a meth manufacturer), once I start watching I have trouble stopping, I love it while it's on, and once it's over I have a weird emotional let down. Seriously, that show really affects me for some reason. It almost depresses me. The Wire and The Sopranos (other violent crime-themed shows that I like) are easier to watch because they're about gangsters and I don't really feel for the characters. But in Breaking Bad it's a guy who got in over his head, and I really feel for him and his family (even though, morally, he's basically no better than a ganster at this point). Maybe as I've gotten older and I've started to really contemplate having a family of my own and providing for them and all that, I've become more sensitive to this type of thing. Or, maybe as I've gotten older, I've just become a bigger puss. Either one could be the case.

Entry 83: Everyday Life

I've pretty much settled into a normal everyday routine here in DC. I wake up, download a podcast for the drive to work, get dressed, run my fingers through my thinning hair (I haven't owned a combed in about 10 years), eat breakfast, drink a cup of coffee, drive to work, work, go the gym, drive back, take a shower, eat dinner, read, go to sleep. It's slightly more exciting than it sounds because I'm really enjoying my job so far. It's cool stuff.

My immediate supervisor was in town this week, so I met him for the first time. Usually he works remotely from the other side of the country. When I interned a few years ago, I worked with him for an entire summer without ever actually meeting him face to face. It was super weird to finally put a face to the voice, because he's nothing like I pictured. I once asked a coworker what he looks like and she said, "he has a little bit of old surfer-dude in him," which I now realize is an absolutely abysmal description. For years, I imagined him looking like a slightly older Laird Hamiltion, when in actuality he looks more like a blond Robin Williams from The Bird Cage. The only thing surfer-ish looking about him is that he's tan and has sun-bleached hair. I recalibrated quickly, but it was really discombobulating at first to have such a mismatch between reality and my fabricated mental image.





As part of my routine, I usually go out for dinner or a happy hour once a week or so. Lately, I've been meeting my friend R for drinks. R is an early-40s gay man who is great at giving you the impression that his entire life is on the precipice of disaster. Part of this is hyperbole (maybe paranoia is a better description), but part of it is that he really is always struggling with something (usually money and friendships). It's like he just doesn't know how to live a normal happy life. Still, he's a good guy, and I almost always enjoy his company, even if he says things like "welcome back to the Uptight Capital of the Dysfunctional Empire" and frequently references sitcoms that were before my time like All in the Family, Maude, and The Jeffersons.



I witnessed a funny incident between him and a female bartender at a local bar. The bartender was young and attractive and not very good at customer service. She had that attitude that many young and attractive bartenders have where they aren't outright rude, but they make you feel like you're server and they're the customer, and you should be going out of your way to be nice to them, instead of vice-versa. Straight dudes put up with it for obvious reasons, other woman put up with it because they usually have a bit of be-deferential-to-the-popular-girls instilled in them, but gay dudes have no reason to put up with it. In fact, in the wild, the only natural enemy of the young good-looking chick with an attitude problem, is the gay man.

Anyway, things came to a head between R and this bartender when R attempted to order a succession of happy hour dishes, all of which were no longer available. After about the fifth pass through "we aren't serving that", the bartender pointed to her electronic order box dealie, and said, "I can't serve you anything with an 'X' through it," to which R replied, "fine, I'll just have a glass of Chianti, unless that has an 'X' through that too." Now, R says that this line was joke, but I was sitting right there, and it didn't come off as a joke. Although, it didn't come off particularly snidely either. The bartender easily could've (and should've) just walked away, but she's used to having her ass kissed, so instead she acted as if R had just violated one of her civil rights, so an argument broke out, and things got contentious, and eventually I'm sitting there listening to R plead his case to the manager and a massive bouncer.

To R's credit, he persuaded the manager that it was at most 50% his fault (which I agree with), and we didn't get kicked out (but we left anyway). Also, he was very apologetic to me after the fact, but I didn't care. In fact, I felt kinda bad because during the incident I kept telling him to stop and to let it go, just trying to deescalate the situation, but in doing so I sort of undercut him, because then the bartender thought I was taking her side, which I wasn't. It's just that I would've handled things differently. I would've just kept quiet, paid my bill, given her a shitty tip, and left without giving things a second thought. But, that's not really R's way.



In other news, I'm very tired today, because S and I went to a house party last night, and stayed up late (3am-ish) dancing. Most of the people there were in there 30s, but there were a few 25-year olds mingling around. The difference between 34 and 25 doesn't seem very large to me, but when you're 25, I think you look at 34-years olds as being old. S and I were chatting with this single girl in her mid-20s for a while, and then later as we crossed paths she said to me, "You guys are so awesome! You're my role models! 34 years old and still coming to house parties! When I'm married, I'm going to go clubbing with my husband!" To which I responded, "Well, you'd have to get a husband first." She feigned being shocked, but laughed. It was more funny than mean, I swear. Also, let it be noted, we were there way later than she was.

Entry 82: NYC

We went to NYC last weekend to visit some of friends. When S was growing up, her parents were really good friends with another Indian couple who have two boys, N1 and N2, in the same general age range as S and her sister. Now they are both doctors in New York, and they're both cool dudes. It was N2's birthday last weekend, so we used that as a good reason to head north for a visit. I had met N2 in Bangalore during the wedding festivities, but this was my first time meeting N1. We stayed in his apartment. He gave us his bed and slept on the couch, which was very nice. S tried to argue that he should keep his bed, and we would sleep on the couch (the only other option being a hardwood floor), but he was like, "Are you crazy? You can't both fit there," and was like, "Are you crazy? We can't both fit there!"

The drive from DC to NYC was long, like usual, but not too bad. S wanted to take the bus, which normally I might be in favor of, but we left Friday in the evening, because I had to work during the day, and my work is already an hour north of DC, so in order to take the bus I would have had to have driven back to DC, and walked or taken the metro to the bus stop. Once on the bus, we would have traveled at about 75% the speed I drive. Basically, we would've added around 3 hours to our trip -- not even kind of worth it. Instead, I picked up S and her friend L, at a stop along the way, and we all drove up together.

[The entrance to Beauty on Essex.]

It actually turned out to be a fun ride. L is an attractive upper-30s divorcee, who is always discussing her current boy-related mini-dramas with S. Every now and then, I chime in with some advice "from the guy's perspective", like I'm Dr. Drew or something. There was a bit of traffic, but it wasn't too bad considering there is always some congestion (especially getting into the actually city of New York) no matter what time you go. Whenever I complained about traffic, S would pipe up, "I told you we should have taken the bus," which I repeatedly pointed out doesn't make any sense -- it's not like the bus has Go-go Gadget wheels that allow it to drive above the other cars -- but she stuck to it.*

When there isn't traffic, you have to deal with the slow people who unnecessarily clog things up. I just don't understand people who putter along when there is a mile of open pavement in front of them. Don't you want to get to your destination? It's fine if you drive slowly though, just stay to the right. I can't stand slowpokes who block the left lanes. They are either a) completely oblivious to the line of cars riding their ass or b) intentionally blocking everybody to be a jerk or to "teach" everybody some sort of idiotic lesson. I don't know which is worse. I mean, tailgaters are assholes, but if you can get over to let somebody go by and you don't, then you're an asshole too. That's my take on it, anyway.

[Further research has identified the rooftop bar as that of the Kimberly Hotel.]

Once we got to NYC, it was fun, but expensive. We (we meaning me, N1, N2, S, and another girl A) went to this restaurant called Beauty on Essex that is so trendy you don't even know it's a restaurant from the outside. You go into a pawn shop and the back opens up into a restaurant and bar. I thought it was going to be obnoxiously pretentious, but it turned out to be really cool -- great vibe and delicious food. After that, we went to a cool rooftop bar at some hotel, where we met a few other people. Then, we went to a gay club. People wanted to dance, and it was the best option at that time of the night (2am). Plus, N1 is gay, so he knows the scene a bit. (By the way, if you want to see the freakiest male-female dancing, go to a gay club. I'm not sure why, but gay men and straight women turn every dance into something that puts The Lambada to shame.) All in all it was a very fun, if exhausting night.



The next day we headed back to DC and spent our Labor Day holiday moving some of our furniture into storage, because we now have "staged" furniture that we're paying some ridiculous price for. We literally have a fake TV hanging our wall. It's just a plastic box. This condo had better sell.

[Screw you Holland Tunnel!]

*L used some nonsensical travel-related logic during our trip, as well. On the way back, she used her iPhone to direct us to the Lincoln Tunnel, since that's how we came into the city. S used her iPhone also, but put the destination as DC instead of just the Lincoln Tunnel, and it told us to exit the city via the Holland Tunnel. Since S's route went all the way to DC, I decided to go with that one. As it turns out, they closed a major street near the Holland Tunnel for a Labor Day festival and there was an accident at the entrance, so it took us about an hour and a half to travel a distance that should have taken 10 minutes. At one point I said, "Guess, we should have taken the Lincoln Tunnel." To which L replied, "Haha, yeah, I didn't want to say I told you so, but I told you so." But really, she never told us so, and it's not like any of us could have known from looking at the route that the Holland Tunnel was a mess. As far as we knew, it could have just as easily been the Lincoln Tunnel that was bad, so really there was no valid "I told you so" about it.

Entry 81: Back in the US

Well, we're back. Frankly, it feels like we were never gone, to me at least. With a few exceptions, DC looks basically the same -- same streets, same buildings, same friends. It's nice to be back.

We're living in the condo S bought before we were married. It's nice and in a cool part of town, but it's too small for two people. That is, it's too small for two married people, who are planning on staying married. We're putting it on the market. As you are probably aware of, it's not a great time to put something on the market, but the housing crisis didn't hit DC quite as hard as other places, and S didn't buy it at a ridiculous price in the first place, so we'll be OK. We probably aren't going to seriously cash in, but we aren't going to be under water either.

I like the realtor we're working with. He seems good. Part of this is a bias because he's gay, and realtor seems like a good job for a gay man -- good eye for interior decorating, lots of energy, big network, ruthlessness towards the competition, these are all good qualities in a realtor. The problem with this guy is that he's expensive. He wants us to "stage" our place, which means painting it and renting cool-looking furniture. All told, it's going to cost a pretty penny (like several grand pretty). We thought about not doing it, but our realtor seems confident that if we do it, then he can sell the place in a few months, and if we sell in a few months then it's totally worth it. If we don't sell, well, then we'll just go to Plan B. Unfortunately for S and I, though, Plan B currently doesn't exist.

In other news, I took a job, and so far I really like it. The commute sucks, but hey, I can listen to podcasts on my new iPhone on the way (between the two of us, S and I now have four iPods, two iPhones, a MacBook, and an iPad, that's embarrassment of Apple riches, literally, I'm embarrassed telling you this right now). Other than the commute, my job is great. The work is very interesting, the office is chill and my coworkers are all cool. I can more or less arrive and leave when I want. It's almost a ROWE (a concept my brother-in-law turned me on to), which is the way I like it.



Anyway, I'm going to have to cut this entry short. It's getting late, but I wanted to put up a post since I'm going to NYC for the long weekend and might not have a chance to post in the next few days. I meant to write something earlier in the week, but I had some computer issues. I got a virus pretending to be a security warning, telling me I had a different virus, and imploring me to click a button to get rid of it. I knew what was up, so I didn't click it, but still I had a very hard time getting rid of it (it wouldn't let me open any programs), and I'm not even sure it's gone, to be honest. The only thing I feel completely safe with now is reinstalling windows, which is a bitch. I think what I'll do instead is just use this computer for now, cautiously and sparingly, and then get a new laptop in six months or so. This computer has some other problems as well -- a battery that needs to be replaced and two busted USB jacks -- so it seems better to me to just upgrade than to put a bunch of time and effort into fixing it up. Plus, who knows, maybe I can get a Mac, we could use another one.

[The famous Apple commercial]