Twelve Tips for D.C. Neophytes

1. Get a Smartrip card. Spare yourself and everyone behind you in line the frustration.
2. Unless the difference in cost is $100 or more, just fly out of DCA.
3. Save yourself the frustration: don't fly to New York. Don't take the bus to Boston. Busjunction.com is your best friend.
4. Hipster or Preppy? Pick a side and party appropriately.
5. If you're from California, your first winter here is always the coldest, no matter what the temperature says.
6. Don't try to wear foundation in the summer. Do moisturize in the winter.
7. You'll need a doctor, gynecologist, dentist and psychiatrist (trust me). Find the doctors closest to your office and then cross reference them with Yelp reviews. Call until you find someone accepting new patients.
8. Learn the bus routes; it will expand your reasonably priced apartment and dive bar options by a power of 10.
9. Ice skating at the National Gallery sculpture garden, screen on the green, E Street Cinema, Shakespeare Theater's young professional tickets and the botanical gardens--the best free to reasonably priced entertainment in the city.
   
10. Don't put off buying wellies. Sure, you can't wear them everyday, or even once a week, but when you need them, they're more frustrating to be without than a great pair of jeans or a little black dress.
    
11. PL Nails in Adams Morgan is the only place to bother getting your nails done. Clean, luxurious and $35 for a mani-pedi.
    
12. Eat at Komi at least once before you leave.

Bonus: Plan to leave. No one stays.

I Love to Hate You

My continuing mantra: I don't blog about work, but suffice to say, it's been crazy busy lately...and also there's been a lot of crazy. To comfort myself, I turn to one of my all-time favorite hobbies: internet stalking people I hate.

What? It relaxes me.

Now, usually Facebook--aka stalker's paradise--is sufficient. I've mentioned, well, many times that I am a huge fan of not being a huge fan of my brother's significantly younger girlfriend. Her recent unprotected (heh) Facebook activity leads me to believe that perhaps she and my brother are not together any more, because she's moved out and neither of those dudes in her profile pic are dearest bro. Fascinating! Because I thought when you managed to survive law enforcement relationship counseling (that's my way of saying the cops were called over a domestic violence dispute while trying to deny my white trash family) you can survive anything. Ahhhh, Facebook. (Try commenting on one of her wall posts or pictures...pretty sure you totally can!)

But what about those nemeses that are actually college educated? Like the one whose Facebook profile you used to happily stalk because you were good enough frenemies to be Facebook friends back when she separated all of her interests with hearts and they included "Ralph Lauren slim fit polos in every color" and "my pink rhinestoned Blackberry." Stupid bitch had to grow up, realize that was unprofessional and get a job AT FACEBOOK where she learned all about privacy settings. So how come I can still see her "Best of Vegas" album?! Bitch, close your mouth...and wipe that shit off your face, no one needs that much makeup...and don't even get me started on the bronzer.

When Facebook fails you, never fear, there's plenty of fun on the internet at large. Who doesn't love a gal whose Twitter name is actually Libby's a Princess, even if her tweets are blocked? But that's not nearly enough. No no, for extra bad days there's the single most vapid thing you've ever read. Personal favorite entry: her Yelp of Southwest Airlines written as if she is Charlotte York. No, not kidding. And when you thought it just couldn't get any better, there's her bio for SF's semi-grown up sorority (so that none of us ever have to really grow up), Spinsters.

Now, one might ask, "what incident precipitated this hatred." Doesn't matter. The hatred doesn't need a reason, it's a reward all it's own. Join me. Internet stalk incredibly hatable people you don't even know. You know you want it. Doooooooo ittttttttttt.

UPDATE: In chatting with Tami this morning, I realized that I left out perhaps the best part of loving to hate dear ole Libby: she was Miss Stanislaus County 2005. No. Joke. Stanislaus: a small but important step above Fresno.

Fire Allison Parker

August tends to be incredibly slow in DC. Congress goes into recess and all of us whose jobs vaguely revolve around Congress end up twiddling our thumbs and counting down to Restaurant Week. I personally have been watching a lot of Melrose Place on my computer. ( I already watched all of the West Wing [several times], Ally McBeal, Studio 60, and my usuals. Seriously, I love Surf the Channel.)

So, as the older, wiser, job-having version of myself, one thing occurs to me watching Melrose Place (seasons 1 and 2): Allison Parker totally sucks at her job. She misses deadlines, she disappears, she comes in late, she mouths off to her boss, she spaces out at work due to all of the Aaron Spelling trademark drama in her life--she would absolutely get fired. She definitely wouldn't get promoted. Amanda may be a bitch, but she does her work, and she does it well, backstabbing and all.

I hate watching television with the eyes of an adult. Monday I caught myself ranting to no one at all how age-inappropriate all of the Gossip Girl characters are. Growing up is hard to do...