Brad Kanus

Capital Bike Share Sucked Today - I'm going to make a big deal of it

I'm no liberal tree hugger who rides a bike a work as some sort of statement about the environment or corporate profits or anything like that.  I just hate the metro, need to lose weight and may or may not enjoy checking out coeds jogging in the morning (the fatties run at night - true facts, bro).  However, I don't own a bike - I rent one.  I use the Capital Bike Share program for $75 a year.  I am a fan, but I'm quickly losing faith. 

This morning I went to my normal bike station in Arlington and was surprised to see only two bikes left.  That was odd.  I was telling this girl just how odd it was as I pushed her down and snatched the last bike.  Her friend tried to chase me and stop me by ringing the bell on the bike she had grabbed - like that would work.  Hilarious.  

Things weren't so funny when I got to my destination at 14th and G and found this:

In the picture you can see there's a Bike Share truck and employee on site.  I asked him if he was going to free up some spots and he told me, "no, I'm just here to see what bikes need fixing."  So not only was this Capital Bike Share employee not alleviating the problem of there being no slots to return bikes, he was blocking an entire lane on 14th street during rush hour.  He was literally doing nothing but f*cking up everyone's commute - way to go Capital Bike Share.  

That picture was actually taken after I had finally found a single open rack spot more than five blocks away.  I had walked back by with the intent of taking this photograph thinking I'd likely find open spots and feel like a fool. Nope, still completely full as were the racks from 15th Street to 7th and from Constitution all the way to K Street.  Me and about 50 other Bike Share morons were racing from station to station all over the Metro Center area only to find them all full.  

It's not like the Bike Share people don't know there's a problem with their being no open slots in an area. There's an app that shows you the inventory at each station.  That's how I knew all of them were full from the White house to the Building Museum.  I still rode over to them hoping the app was wrong - it wasn't.  Luckily for me I was early and had time to ride around all over the place waiting for something to open up.  Finally at 15th and K a spot made itself available, but it took heading off two other guys on red bikes and crossing mid block with a fair amount of traffic to dodge to get it. 

It was after all that I snapped the picture above.  Off camera were a few more Bike Share riders disappointed by the situation.  I had spent 35 minutes searching for an open spot and it seemed as if I was lucky to get what I got (it took me only 15 minutes to get to downtown from where I picked up the bike).  These other people had to head to the other side of the White House to find an open dock.  That's two metro stops from Metro Center and that sucks. 

Want to know what that same rack looked like at noon?  Here you go:

Still completely full and there were still people riding around looking for open spots.  So not only did Capital Bike Share suck early this morning, they continued to suck until at least lunch.

This is bullshit.  I know it sucks that everyone rides the bikes downhill to this general area in the city and never rides them out, but Capital Bike Share knows this and either needs to remedy the problem or let riders know that we've created a problem they don't feel like fixing so we can either stop doing business with them or ride the bikes back to higher ground.  

Shame on you Capital Bike Share... Shame on YOU (Imagine I said that very dramatically as if they had caused cancer in children in exchange for bigger profits).  

Clarendon Scooter Bros - God Help Us...

So I was out for a stroll Friday afternoon in Clarendon when I spied what I hope is not the next Clarendon "thing." Please tell me the Rainbow flops bros aren't going to transition to this:

Yes, that's three non-hipster guys at Whitlows on a Friday afternoon preparing to mount their 49cc scooters (anything under 50cc doesn't have to be registered and doesn't require a motorcycle license).  

Here's what happens with situations like this in Clarendon. At first it's three bros on scooters having beers at Whitlows.  Then it's four bros... then five... then six and then they open up a dealership in Courthouse and Wilson Blvd will be jam packed with scooter bros walking their trendy dogs while riding their scooters in brown flip flops.  It will be like a Len video where everyone is replaced by upwardly mobile upper middle class white males from the midwest dressed almost identically.  This is not what paradise looks like. 

I'm not saying roving packs of scooter bros are going to ruin Clarendon... I'm just saying it's not going to be an ideal situation for those of us who like the thought of Clarendon bros being less mobile.  

There's no word on what the roving packs of Clarendon women in lycra with no intention of working out think about the rise of a rival North Arlington cliche.    

Uber is great – Uber Hijackers are not

I love Uber, that’s no secret.  I have a long standing inebriated relationship with the coolest car company in the world.  They are one of the few companies that keep me saying “I like the hitch in your giddy up” time after time.  Just kidding – I would never say “I like the hitch in your giddy up” because I have a full set of teeth.  However, I’m not kidding about my love for Uber.  Unfortunately, there are people out there trying to bring Uber down and this is a story about them.  

It was just last Sunday night that I arrived to Reagan National from Birmingham Paris at around 9:00 PM.  I waited for my bags rare paintings to emerge from the carousel of impatience and disappointment and mashed the “set pickup location” on the Uber app as soon as I had eyes on them.  I headed to the door. 

Outside I reaffirmed my good decision to use Uber when I noticed that the cab lines were impossibly long.  I don’t know why the cab longs suck so terribly, but it may be because people being asked “DC or Virginia?” stare at the guy like it’s the hardest question they’ve ever been asked.  It proves there’s an intelligence gap between cab users and Uber users.  If you’re in a bar trivia league – grab the guy who showed up in a black car.  

Kwame, my Uber driver, rang me as I made it to the island of anxious anticipation where people with loving friends and family are retrieved.  I told Kwame that I was at door eight and what I looked like all the way down to the distinct burnt orange Longhorn hat I was wearing.  Kwame told me he’d have his emergency flashers going and to wave him down just in case.  Everything seemed perfect as I watched his little car make its way cartoonishly past Terminal A on the Uber app. 

Soon I saw a black Town Car with its emergency flashers on  approaching  and I was confident I would be home in time to be turned down for sex by an exhausted, underappreciated Janis Kanus (her description of herself, not mine – exhausted people don’t watch Project Runway until midnight while chatting with their sister on the phone... in my opinion).  Then everything went to hell. 

At about door four Kwame ducked into the lane near the curb and appeared to pick up someone.  Seconds later my little Uber screen went from white to purple meaning the meter, so to speak, was running and I was paying for it.  I was pissed and called Kwame to ask him how my ride was.  Kwame was confused and I explained to him in the calm collected voice of a Marine Drill Sergeant who just caught Private Pyle leaving an upper decker in the latrine that my ride was not going well because I was not the asshole thief sitting in his back seat.  Kwame hung up on me and probably had a good laugh with the two shitheads enjoying my Uber scholarship.  Well, I canceled the trip before he got out of the airport and was charged $25 for canceling.  I do not know if things were so cheery after Kwame and his new friends came to the realization that Uncle Brad was no longer picking up the tab on their little joyride. 

I dialed up another car and Blaize in a Chevy Suburban rumbled up a short time later.  Now, Blaize was awesome and his Suburban was too.  Town Cars are pimp for pulling up to your dilapidated mud hut in Clarendon, but a Suburban is better.  Ask a four year-old boy and he’ll pick the truck over the car every time – and we know four year-olds have impeccable taste in luxury transportation. 

I didn’t have time to chit chat with Blaize because I had to get an email off to Alex over at Uber (@Uber_DC in the twitosphere) and my hands were shaking with so much anger I could barely type.  At this point I had even lost the desire to be turned down for sex by Janis Kanus – shit was real.  I was nice and didn’t blame Alex – it wasn’t his fault.  It was an FYI with the hopes he’d get me my money back and have Kwame sent to a never ending toddler princess tea party in room lined with tile.  

The good news is that I got my money back with an apology from Uber.  They are awesome like that.  Kwame, from what I understand, was not sent to a princess party. No solution in life is perfect, I guess.

Here’s the scam as it was played on me and likely a ton of other people who are way too drunk to know what’s going on. 

Every time you get in an Uber car there’s a little process.  He stops, you open the door and he says “Brad?”  It’s crazy, but they ask everyone if they’re name is Brad.  I love it.  Just kidding.  They identify you so that they know they have the right person.  The only problem with that – they’re opening themselves up to be tricked.  

The only thing an Uber driver knows is that you’re a little blue pin waiting for them on a map and your name.  Last year during the clusterfuck they call “after a Nats game” I saw a way to be a dick and steal someone’s Uber.  All up and down the street were people waiting for cars.  I had three little chickadees I picked up at the game and was attempting to send them on to my single homies waiting at Cap Lounge.  Black cars kept pulling up and I’d open the door and they’d say “Fred?”  I’d say “Nope” and close the door.  What was keeping me from just saying “yep” and getting in and being on my way?  I’m an asshole, but I’m not a criminal.  

Unfortunately there are a lot of assholes who are also criminals in DC and I think Uber Hijacking happens way more often than is known.  I chatted with my other Uber friends and they each had “a-ha” moments from drunken nights where their car never showed up and the screen turned purple and they eventually canceled thinking the driver bugged out.   The multiple emails and texts from Uber can all run together and some of the upper income folks don’t really notice $25 or $30 extra bucks missing after a night of heavy drinking.  

One friend told me exactly how the airport scam works – the hijackers stand down by door 1 and just wave down Uber cars as they come by and jump in agreeing that they are whoever the driver implies they are.  Once they are on the way into DC, the car with the asshole thieves will be out of the airport with nowhere to pull over (no man’s land on the parkway if you can picture it).  If the ride is canceled and the driver sees there is a problem, he has to drive them all the way to Roslyn or DC to let them out.  It’s a free ride to a cheaper ride in the city and it’s criminally brilliant.  It’s also a dick move.  Pelase stop doing it or you'll ruin Uber for everyone else.  

Ride on people, ride on.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Repost - People We Hate - Restaurant Weekers

I was thinking about these people in preparation for a new post and thought I'd share it again.  I'm sorry if it's garbled, it's late at night and I'm too tired to edit.

----------------

Twice a year when the city's class of diners who can afford the best of DC's culinary offerings leave town on vacation a festival for wannabes takes place.  In January and August  every year DC's best restaurants meet DC's lamest diners in a celebration of mediocrity - Restaurant Week.

Years ago when I first moved to DC I was sucked into Restaurant Week by a bunch of girls at work who were hopped up on "Sex in the City" and found the reduced prices at the fine restaurants their best shot at recreating the nauseatingly fantastic world of Carrie Bradshaw and friends.  Their plump asses set upon chairs usually reserved for DC's elite class and for a meal or two twice a year they felt special.  Even if "special" meant being stuck with some prix fixe menu reminiscent of an above average banquet setup at some three star Capitol Hill hotel.  I was less than impressed with the "bargain" and even less thrilled with my new status as an interloper - something the staff made perfectly clear with every interaction. 

I remember one lunch at Occidental where the waiter was so faking it that I actually pictured every word he wanted to say as he spoke instead the words that wouldn't get him fired -

"Hello there, douche bags.  This is our menu for today.  Don't even open our regular menu, you can't afford anything on it.  I'm sure the prix fixe concept is way too much for you to grasp since you're idea of a night out is Applebee's so I will explain this extraordinarily simple concept to you very very slowly so your tiny unsophisticated brains can decipher it.  You get to choose ONE - a single item from each category starting at the top and going down.  You can not substitute anything from the real menu for anything on this bullshit menu.  It doesn't matter how many times you ask, what stupid faces you make or what lie you're willing to tell  - you can not substitute our real food for the shitty food we've pre-cooked and stored under heat lamps for the lunch rush today.  I assume you all will be having  just water to drink - we do provide that free.  And let me guess - six separate checks?  Of course.   I can't wait to see how you guys tip - the maitre d' is betting you guys are six percenters.  Please feel free to linger for as long as possible sipping water so that I can turn fewer tables today and make next to nothing in tips.  May I suggest the risotto?  It's exceptionally shitty today having been cooked an hour ago and left in a huge pot to be treated like a garnish.  You'll love it because you don't know any better and we'll all have a good laugh at your expense over at the waiter's station."

I really did feel for the guy because the room was packed with 25year-olds who were acting like they'd never been out in public before.  The 34 year-old me really hates the 25 year-old me and I hope you feel the same way (about you, not me... although if you hate me at either age, that's cool too). 

Back then the list of restaurants was much shorter than the list now.  I don't think there's an eatery in DC or surrounding area that isn't on this LIST.  Just by skimming the first page I can see American Tap Room is on there and that is far from fine dining and easy to get out of dinner for less than $35.12 a person.  The most expensive item is a $29 ribeye that is severely over-priced (they changed chefs and the place really sucks now, by the way).  You could do a salad, entree and glass of wine for $35 every day of the week.  I'd rather have the wine than the shitty frozen spoon-sized dessert any day. 

Where was I?  Oh, the list is big and decidedly undistinguished these days.  If you have to wait until Restaurant Week to eat at most of these places - your life really sucks.  And for the love of God - if you're going to go out at least miss the one week where the restaurants admittedly mass produce shit to feed the masses!  If you want to watch good football and never have the chance to do it, don't go to the preseason games because they're cheap.  Pay the money and go to a playoff game.  Do it right.

I guess some of you are pretty offended by now.  That's okay - it's the reason there's a comments section below and you don't even have to put your email address in.  Call me an asshole if it makes you feel better.  Just remember, I may be an asshole, but I'm not a sheep.

I've also written some things that have piqued your interest, haven't I?  Let's go through them.

The top end restaurants don't think you'll become a regular after a Restaurant Week test run.  They know anyone who chooses Restaurant Week as their time to try the place, can't afford their regular menu and won't be back anytime soon.  That's fine with them.  Restaurant Week helps them generate some revenue during a notoriously slow August vacation season.  The vacation season hurts them because, believe this or not, some people are regulars at the Palm or Floriana.  They keep those places alive by eating there all the time.  Just because you only go to Morton's for birthdays or anniversaries, doesn't mean their mainstay clients are like you.  I know many people who make Bobby Van's a bi-weekly stop for dinner and they are the ones who are truly valued.  They get what you'll never get.

With that said, you should know that most of the nicer restaurants aren't bringing their "A Game" when it comes to their prix fixe menu.  I know for a fact several big time places let their top chef vacation during Amateur Week (Restaurant Week).  No need to beat him or her up for a week when the clientele is what it is during Restaurant Week.   Better to let them off so they're fresh when the regulars come back from their villas in France expecting a top notch experience nightly.

And with the top chef out, the menus only really have one common theme - be cheap and easy to make.  Restaurant insiders I have talked to in DC over the years have told me that losing money during Restaurant Week in the hopes you'll make it back when the diners become regulars is ludicrous.  They aren't coming back, so you better make sure you cover your ass like any other day. 

One gentlemen used the famous Nordstrom "Anniversary Sale" and "Half Year Sale" as an example.  Those events draw a very different clientele on those specific days than they do any other day of the year at Nordstrom.  It's an inventory clearing mechanism that generates revenue, not an effort to convert those shoppers into Nordstrom guests who pay full price for items throughout the year.  His point was well made.

I hate to ruin it for you, but you're not getting anything near their "best" or even an idea of what they do well all the time.  The formula for Restaurant Week in the beginning was simple - let the masses have a look at how the better half lives and maybe they'll come by on their birthday.  When it became popular and restaurants were consistently packed the whole week, the business side of the restaurateur's brains kicked into gear.  Knowing that they're going to have a full dining room with a fixed price point on a fixed set of deliverables for a week allows the savvy owner to optimize his profit.  The variables that usually keep them up at night guessing all become known and it's only a matter of plugging them into a well known equation that tells you if you're going to make a profit or not.

An owner knows for six days that he or she is going to have a packed dining room.  The people will be there and they only need guess the number based on seating, and estimate of the tables they can flip (some do "seatings" that make it even easier to nail down the number of customers for each service).   Knowing down to the penny what the known number of people eating will spend at  a minimum gives them an operating budget.  Think about it this way - if you know you're going to have 100 diners spend a minimum of $35.12 a piece, you know your haul will be at least $3,512 for that service.  If you want to make 15 percent profit, you know your food costs etc. must be less than $2985.20. 

So, instead of trying to guess what an unknown quantity of people will order off of a 30 item menu so that they are properly stocked (not too much, and not too little), they have a nine to twelve item menu to stock up for and an exact budget to follow.  Ingredients, prep and portions can all be strictly controlled to maximize profit (you'll find the portions are quite small at most places). Their captive audience (Restaurant Weekers) is on the receiving end of a well budgeted meal where quality and quantity are likely to take a backseat to profit margin.  Don't expect to see a lot of backfin crab meet this week.  Ditto for the better cuts of lamb and a whole range of fish.  And you'd be surprised what escolar can stand in for in the fish world (locate the bathroom on your way in, trust me). 

So why did I tell you all of that?  Well, the restaurant business is a very tough business.  When an owner isn't banging the host staff or breaking up fights between wait staff who are banging each other, he or she is trying to bang out a profit in an industry with an extremely high failure rate.  If you think you're getting one over on the restaurants this week - you're wrong - they're playing you.  And you deserve it. 

You don't get the top notch life at a bargain price.  Pretending is always cheaper than "being" although you never really quite pull off who you are pretending to be.  Just ask any of the hard working waiters out there who abhor Restaurant Week.  All of you have established that you're cheap -  you go out twice a year when it's the least expensive. It's not all that shocking that your 15 percent looks a lot more like six percent in the real world.  And that's just the monetary crap the waiters have to put up with. 

People who dine out at fine restaurants only a few times a year tend to be the ones who become exceedingly picky during those rare visits to quality culinary institutions.  All of a sudden a few thousand Gordon Ramseys descend on DC's better restaurants turning back food they shouldn't and bitching about the amount of ice in their precious water.  For some reason Restaurant Weekers feel that the experience is only complete if they turn their asshole knob to 11.  It's truly a shame how bad Restaurant Weekers behave.  However, it's not unexpected.

My buddy over at the Hamilton gave me a tip last Friday - "next week is a good week to bring your lunch and make dinner at home - it's not going to be any restaurant's best week."  I'm sure he wasn't talking about the profit side of things - I expect them to make a mint off the unenlightened masses.

Feelings hurt?  They should be.  The truth is like slamming your hand in a car door - it hurts and it's almost always of your own doing. 

If you're still going to go - don't be an asshole.  And don't think for a second that the VPs in your office suffer through whatever Charlie Palmer's offering during Restaurant Week - it's ten times better next week. 

See you in January, amateurs. 

It's Spring in DC - Jeep Douche Advice

There's no greater place in the world to see people flip the seasonal switch than in DC.  We don't have the harshest winters or the worst summers, but we do have the most devoted fans to the subtle weather changes we do get.  The only problem is that we go a little overboard.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I was once the kind of person I’m going to describe below, so don’t get all whiney.  This hurts me as much as it’s going to hurt some of you.

My wife sent me a text today reading, “the nice weather welcomes people to roll their windows down and express themselves musically - ps. the dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.” The dish thing isn’t our topic here, but it’s bullshit because I leave them in the sink all the time and somehow they get back into the cabinets without my help. Sometimes it takes a few days, but it happens. 

My wife does have a point – the weather gets nice and people roll down their windows and decide whatever they’re listening to is what you should be listening to as well.   You learn about people this way.  As we noted on Sunday afternoon in Clarendon (where way too many dudes were running with their shirts off and it was barely 70) white males between 25 and 32 driving BMWs like to blast rap as if what Jay-Z says is directly speaking to their soul.  Of course, it may not have been Jay-Z, but I wouldn’t know because I stopped listening to rap in the seventh grade (like all of you should have). 

By far the worst offenders were the douche bags in Jeeps.  Not just any Jeep, we’re talking the Jeep Wranglers that have exploded in popularity since they now offer more amenities than the traditional no heater, no air conditioner and single speaker AM stereo system from back in the day.   The tops are easier to remove and replace so they make good winter (4wd) and summer (top down) vehicles – hence the popularity here.

Now, I’m not down on Jeep owners.  I had a Jeep for years when I moved up here.  My family and I are huge Jeep people who modify them to crawl around on rocks and generally rip shit up.  I love me some Jeep.  However, I can’t speak for other Jeep owners – they can be assholes and this nice weather has them popping up everywhere.

First of all, anyone who has ridden in a Jeep with the top down knows that it gets pretty cool with the wind rushing through the open cockpit.  When it’s 70 outside, it’s 60-65 degrees in the Jeep when it’s on the move.  You look a little silly sitting in your jeep in shorts and a tank top with goose bumps all over your arms.  People don’t wish to be you, or to ride with you when it’s the cold out.  They wish you had worn a jacket or kept your top up because it’s obviously not warm enough for Barbie Beach Jeep weather.  Riding around in 30 degree weather with the top off and a parka on = badass.  Riding around in 65 degree weather with the top off in flops and shorts = dumbass. 

Second, know how to properly roll your top back if you have a soft top.  Nothing looks worse than a mess of faux canvas awkwardly bunched up and sticking up too high behind the rear seat.  It’s made to nicely fold back into place so that it appears nice and neat.  You look like an idiot when you don’t know how to use your Jeep.  Also, it’s a commitment to run with your top down, so don’t be a pansy and pack what you took off in the back seat in case it rains.  You’ll look more like an idiot trying to put your top back on in front of crowd than you will simply sliding your seat forward or carrying some towels.  Worst case – pull into a parking garage or under a bridge.  Most importantly – watch the weather forecast.  Don’t take your top off it’s going to rain for the next three days. 

Third, be aware that the entire world can hear what you are saying or listening to because you fail to adjust your volume when you stop at a light.  I learned this the hard way – many times over.   Things get pretty loud in a Jeep with not top on it even at only speeds of 20 MPH.  You tend to speak louder to compensate if you have friends with you and are likely to turn up the radio as well.  When you come to a stop at stoplight, it often doesn’t register to you that your voice, or your radio volume, is still cranked up to a level you can comfortably hear while moving.  This can be quite embarrassing.

True story – many times over…  So whenever I was out cruising around in my Jeep sans doors and top I’d have the radio up pretty loud.  Oh, and since even with my soft top on it was pretty noisy and I’m a douche by nature, I had a pretty good sound system installed.  For some reason “Little Red Corvette” by Prince (like I had to tell you how sang that) would come on whenever I was somewhere with lots of stoplights (Wilson Blvd, Constitution, Connecticut come to mind).  As my wife will tell you (while rolling her eyes), I love “Little Red Corvette.”  However, I didn’t really want the world to know that without really knowing me first.  I theorize that my addiction to Prince is somehow more palatable if I get to explain why a guy like me loves a midget like that. 

As you can imagine, on more than one occasion (try 20) I slowed to a stop at a light next to a car full of hotties (who writes “hotties?” I *am* a douche) and blaring at concert level was:

“But it was Saturday night I guess that makes it all right And you say, "Baby, have you got enough gas?" Oh yeah.” 

Or worse, for those of you intimately familiar with the song and its non-radio version:

“Girl, you got an ass like I never seen, And the ride... I say the ride is so smooth, You must be a limousine!”

There is no way to recover from that.  The girls are giggling and the only thing I could ever think to do was turn down volume and say to them “holy shit! My girlfriend must have fallen out – you wanna take her place?”  I shit you not – this never worked once… not even close.  I know, I’m as surprised as you are. 

The other situation was talking too loud with top down and having some chick’s body builder Ninja Navy Seal boyfriend reach into the back of your Jeep and start whacking your buddy with his cinderblock like fist because he announced to the world exactly why he would spank her and for how long he intended to do it.  You can crank up “Little Red Corvette” as loud as you want, but it won’t stop some meathead with elbow muscles from raging on your friend with a daddy fetish. 

Your own rage at other drivers can also be heard by everyone if you’re not paying attention.  Most of the time when you scream at the idiot who cut you off, your windows are up.  Nobody can hear you; they can only see you essentially mouthing words.  As far as you are concerned, and they’re concerned, you’re saying the most awesomely humiliating thing about them and their driving skills, or lack thereof, ever said.  Nobody really knows because nobody can actually hear what you are saying and you’re so mad, you’re not sure what you even said (but you know it was good). 

The reality in an open to Jeep is that you pull up to that asshole who cut you off and say “YOU F*CKING SON OF SHIT BURGER ASSHOLE FACE!”  All of sudden people waiting to cross the street are pointing and saying “did that guy with Prince blaring on the stereo just call that guy’s mom a shit burger asshole face?” It is then that you know that you have achieved nothing – possibly in your entire life. 

So that’s Jeep douche bags, that’s what I have for you.  Don’t keep on doing what you’re doing for the sake of your virginity that we all know you likely still have. 

 

How to Ditch a Coworker When Leaving the Office

Here's a common scenario for all of us...

You get on the elevator to head down to the first floor to leave the building and you're joined by a coworker.  Now, this coworker isn't your friend, but you know them.  Maybe you've had to do a project with them or they are in the same division.  You know their name and they know yours, but you two aren't "friends." In fact, you don't like them.  You don't consciously know that you don't like them,  but your inability to forge a relationship with them prior to this moment is proof of that you don't like them.

The elevator ride yields small talk about the weather or maybe a reference to something going on in the office everybody knows about - the office Christmas party for example.  When the elevator arrives at the first floor you exit and say "have a nice day."  However, that's not where you part ways. 

What often happens is that you two are one step apart in the lobby and then, as fate would have it, you walk out the door and head the same direction - possibly going to the same exact place (metro). 

Now things are awkward between you two.  You said "have a nice day," but you're still two feet from them.  You don't want to talk to them and they don't to talk to you, but you can't comfortably walk to the same place right next to each other trying to ignore the fact that you know each other.  It's an uncomfortable situation and it makes me want to carry a flask.

That's why I had to figure out a plan to keep it from happening to me again and again.  Today is the day I share that piece of golden knowledge with you - free of charge.

I know that you think there's an easy answer here - just be friends with everybody at work.  That's a bullshit answer to the problem and you know it.  It's work.  Even if you have friends at work, they're "work friends" and they're not really your "friend friend."  I mean, you don't even see your "work friends" outside of work.  You don't go antiquing with your "work friends" on a Saturday.  You go to Froyo on a Tuesday afternoon with them when your boss is out of town.  "Work friends" are like second cousins - they're around because they have to be, not because you want them to be.

The key here is communication.  You have to figure out their plan in order to formulate yours.  This means that you're going to have to substitute your normal weather chat with something more useful.  However, it's not as easy as simply asking "so, where are you going?"  That's creepy and if you vary off of that theme at all, you could be seen as inviting yourself to lunch with them. If you ask "we are you going to lunch?"  it can be taken the completely wrong way and they'll respond with where they are going and an invite.  That's when shit gets awkward.  We don't want that.

What you need to do is get a little ridiculous so that they are forced to answer the question, but know you have no intention of going with them.  One of my favorites at lunchtime is "So Brent (pregnant pause to let him know I'm running this conversation) where's the power lunch taking place today?"  Now, I know Brent isn't having a "power lunch" because Brent is a douche bag and it's 2012.  The "power lunch" died in 1997.  There's no way Brent is going to think I want to come along because I've referenced some event that is nonexistent.  I have relieved Brent of the option of inviting me. 

Brent's next move is to either try to come back with something witty, or just buffer my verbal advance on his plan with his actual lunch destination. 

Again, Brent is a douche bag and not funny enough, or quick enough, to combat my quip about "power lunches" with the proper response - which is "yep, just put a new flux capacitor in the ol' DeLorean so I can head back to 1995 any time I need."   

Brent will answer my question honestly because he has nothing else to offer and doesn't want be rude by giving me the silent treatment.  He'll say "nah, just going to Au Bon Pan to grab a sandwich." Boom - you now know where this guy is going once you exit the building.  You can now formulate your plan for avoiding that uncomfortable walk in the same direction. 

If you know where Au Bon Pain is, you know which way Brent is going to head when he leaves the building.  You just simply go in the opposite direction - if only for a few steps.  That puts some distance between you two.  Problem solved.

When leaving to go home things get a lot easier.  All you have to do is ask Brent if he's taking a certain transit method home.  Just put the question/assumption out there first thing.  Ask/tell him "you take the metro, don't you?" He's either going to say "yes," or he's going to tell you what alternate method he has for getting home.  There's no worry of inspiring an invite from Brent here at all.  Figure out which way he's going and plan accordingly.  I tend to like to hang back and pretend I'm trying to get a signal on my phone while I'm still in the lobby.  That lets him clear the area and creates a nice cushion of space between me and the possibly awkward conversation I don't want to have with him. 

Avoiding those little moments in life that make you want to drink at noon are sometimes hard to figure out.  I hope you find my tip here to be helpful.  And, if you get on the elevator with me tonight after reading this and I ask you "so, you take the metro home, right?" don't be offended that we're not at the friend level you thought we were.  Just know that it's you, not me. 

There will be no riding like the wind or ladies in red this Christmas - Why?

I'm not at all afraid to admit that I'm a huge fan of "easy listening" radio.  My musical Mecca is a Doctor's office waiting room with the volume cranked to six.  What's not to love about one soft rock Billboard Top 10 hit after another? You can go bang your head or bounce your booty, but I'm going to tap my toe and hum to "your listen at work station" all night long (all night) all-- night --long.

I know, that was a lame attempt to work in lyrics from the quintessential soft rock song "All Night Long (All Night)" by Lionel Ritchie, but what you expect from a guy who digs that genre of music?  And don't pretend  you don't occasionally geek out to soft rock, because you do.  Mock me all you want, but God hears you listening to Bread in your car on the way to work.  Like all the other things we do behind locked doors with the lights off, loving easy listening music is natural and nothing to be ashamed of.  So turn around bright eyes and faithfully embrace your love of soft rock because you can't fight this feeling anymore.  I apologize (again) for that last sentence. 

I could go on and on about my love for this genre of music, but that's not the point I'm trying to make here.  I'm not trying to convince you like something you already secretly love.  I actually have a question about the egregious trespass against this beloved radio fixture during the Christmas holiday season.  I want to know why my soft rock station is always the one designated to go to a full slate of Christmas music starting in late November every year.  Why?  Why must I suffer?  Why must we suffer?  Are we all out of love for those of us who just need a little Peter Cetera morning, noon and night?

Years ago, when the Christmas creep began, these stations would work some Christmas classics into the rotation starting around the first of December.  It wasn't long until soft rock stations completely switched format to nothing but Christmas music starting at midnight on Thanksgiving day.  Nowadays your soft rock station may go into full Christmas mode on Halloween night.  I'm not kidding when I project that by the year 2025 they'll be making the switch after the Fourth of July. 

Now, I don't want to quibble with those who love Christmas music.  It's a free county.   You can like all the shitty things you want to like and it's none of my business.  If you think listening to 33 different people sing the same song over and over for 60 days straight is awesome - good for you.  I mean, who doesn't want to listen to N'Sync, Frank Sinatra, Josh Groban, Justin Beiber, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Harry Connick Jr., Backstreet Boys, Ronnettes, Eagles and Carry Underwood sing "Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer" back to back to back to back to back to back?  ME - that's who.  But, hey - don't let me talk you out of your shitty taste in music, that's not my job.

It's not that I hate Christmas (I do) or Christmas music (I do) so much as it is that it arbitrarily replaces my favorite music for an increasingly longer span of time each year.  That music has its place - believe me.  When my Snot Machine was just a little Poop Pump and would start crying, my go to was "Jingle Bells." I don't know why I defaulted back to that song, but my instinct was right and she'd shut up long enough for me to find a responsible adult to deal with her problem.  So, there is some utility in Christmas music, just not 24 hours a day of it on my favorite radio station. 

I simply don't understand why it's across the board in every media market that the easy listening stations get saddled with the Christmas music chore.  I can go a day without riding like the wind with my buddy Christopher Cross.  Hell, I could make it an entire week without Hall and Oates' and their cannibalistic woman and it would be against all odds, but I could do it (I will not apologize for any Phil Collins reference).  But making me go more than a month without the Little River Band and Kenny Loggins (the early years with Michael McDonald) is just wrong.  It's the anti-Christmas thing to do to a man who is not afraid to make public auditory love to Air Supply's entire body of work.  It's like easy listening stations say to their fans "hey, in honor of Jesus' birthday - f*ck you,  here's 37 different people singing the same four songs." It's just wrong. 

What's the solution?  There is none.  The easy listening crowd is not assertive by nature.  We don't stand up for ourselves through action.  We just cope with the world one smooth jazz inspired 80s hit after another.  Peobo isn't a fighter, he's a celebrator - just like us.  Love is a battlefield, not our airwaves. 

So... I guess it's a lost cause.  I'm stuck with Pandora and my "Christopher Cross Radio" for the next month.  I'll be that guy wearing head phones in the car for the next month - please excuse my occasional sax solo that requires I sit through a green light. 

I'm a Facebook fool, so I'm joining the darkside

This past Sunday the owner of half my assets walked into the house with our tax deduction and declared that I was a "Facebook asshole."  I was watching football with the volume at about 75 (it goes to 100, she watches TV at about 22), but I somehow heard the stinging assessment of my use of social media.  All I could think was that I somehow said something inappropriate to an ex-girlfriend like "save me" or "you're wearing way too much bathing suit in that picture" and it pissed my wife off.  Well, apparently it wasn't that - it was my entire body of work on Facebook.  

It was Veterans Day and a lot of people on Facebook were honoring those they know who served with shout-outs, stories, photos and the occasional 10 minute video montage set to a popular CCR tune.  Does it get a little ridiculous? Yes.  However, that's what Facebook is for - drawing attention to yourself and in turn giving it to others.  I was just doing what everyone else was doing. 

My wife knows I get sappy when I get drunk, so she assumed I was hammered and making videos of my dad and friends who served while in turn making an ass of myself.  I was not drunk - yet.  I was just being nice.  I was simply honoring them with my iMovie skills!

Of course, my wife had an entire dossier on my Facebook douchebaggery.  Here's a woman who loses her keys every single day of the year, but has every goofy thing I have ever "liked," wrote or posted on Facebook catalogued in chronological order in her brain.  And believe me - she made a good case for her charge of First Degree Facebook Loser.  I was guilty as charged. 

So what does that mean?  That means I'm pretty much banned from posting anything but links to my blog on Facebook.  I have shown that I can not responsibly handle the power of Facebook.  I have failed to be strategic in my posts in order to incur the maximum amount of jealousy from my "friends." I am simply not "Facebook cool."

What all this means is that I must  truly break the unwritten code of Facebook and become a the person I despise most - the judgmental lurker. 

You see, there is an unwritten agreement among Facebook users.   It goes something like... we'll be "friends" and share equally of our lives and every one will be equally exposed to the world and that will ensure a safe place for us to connect, remember and enjoy each other's lives. 

However, there are some - now me - that simply lurk in the shadows watching everyone else participate and giving nothing of themselves, risking nothing.  These people - I'm one of them now - judge other people's Facebook shenanigans and scoff at all the silliness.  These are the people who stand just in sight of the dance floor at weddings and judge others as they awkwardly bob and weave to "We Are Family."  Their penetrating stare reminds you that your moment of letting your guard down in the name of celebration and fun is a sign of weakness and ultimately your badge of uncoolness.  I hate that guy!  But... now I'm him. 

Goodbye open and honest Facebook.  Hello too cool for school Facebook.

Holy shit that last sentence is exactly what my wife was talking about.

Potluck lunches at work are annoying, could kill you

It's that time of year again.  You know, amateur chef day at work.  All the fatty fat fats, free loaders and crock-pot commandos take over your conference room for a morale building salmonella fest.  It's Thanksgiving potluck season and I'm about to ruin it for you. 

The first potluck meal was held at Plymouth Plantation in 1621 because the locals felt sorry the gentrifiers from the east who had recently moved into the neighborhood and were having a hard time finding a good place to eat.  Everybody brought a little something they felt was representative of their culinary background and shared it with their new friends.  A ton of popcorn was consumed. Shortly thereafter the gentrifiers murdered all their new friends in a dispute over eminent domain and zoning laws.  Years later the master historians at Disney would correct the record for us in a series of docudramas that proved everything was just a misunderstanding and nothing worse than a little swap for a native virgin girl took place.  And that's how we it all started.

(Disclaimer: Pardon me if you're from one of the many towns in America that claim the first Thanksgiving was held there because you have no other possible way of attracting attention or tourists.  I'm sure you think you're right, but Disney doesn't lie, so you are wrong, wrong, wrong!) 

Nowadays things aren't so different.  Well, maybe with the exception of the murder and the swapping of virgins.  Liberals ruin everything fun... Where were we?

Oh, things aren't so different now.  We get together to give thanks once a year with our family and  right before that we get together at work to eat like pigs and act like assholes with our coworkers in a crowded conference room.  It's a joyous occasion for everyone - everyone but me. 

First of all, nobody in my office (or your office) is qualified to prepare a meal for more than the few people who are bound by blood to them and have to eat whatever shit they dish onto a shingle.  If cooking for large numbers of people was easy - the restaurant business wouldn't be riskier than opening a book store in Tuscaloosa.

Fat Bertha in accounting demolishes six Lean Cuisines and case of Snackwell cookies a day, but once a year she's Paul Dean - fat and culinarily talented.   At least that's what she tells everyone after she signs her name next to "stuffing" on the potluck checklist.  The reality is that it's either from a box or you severely wish it was from a box - either way, not good.  That same scenario plays out for each item and your potluck turns into a collection of the worst interpretations of fall American food classics that has ever been assembled in one place at the same time.  It's like Lalapalooza for food that make you want to spit it into a napkin. 

It's not bad enough that the food is terrible, it has to be contaminated with your coworkers' Zudipus as well.  The same people whose personal hygiene disgusts you on a daily basis are now preparing you food from the comfort of their own pig sty (home).  I think about all the people in the office who are known to walk right by coworkers in the bathroom after having peed and not wash their hands.  I think about how those people must conduct themselves at home and what kind of nasty super germs they have running freely around their kitchen.  And then I think about some of the most disgusting things I have ever heard of in my life that take place in the women's restroom at my office and I can't bear to think about any kind of food at all.  You have to be nuts to even consider eating that SARS infested shit bomb of death your coworkers make for potluck thanksgiving.  But... it's "free food" so you're so excited you may shit yourself before you get food poisoning. 

And if all of that wasn't bad enough it's the general attitude people have at work about the potluck get together.  If you say that you're not interested, they look at you like you just said you don't care for the space program.  If you're not making something then they want money!  It is simply ridiculous.

If you do attend, you'll notice your coworkers walking around like they just got away with stealing a million bucks from the boss.  These people really think an extra thirty minutes of lunch with free food is really "sticking it to the man."  Some of my coworkers start talking about the next thanksgiving potluck while shoveling the current thanksgiving potluck into their fat mouths.  Again - ridiculous. 

If you can get past the shitty food prepared by pee pee hands and you don't mind the hoopla around the extra half hour off, then you can enjoy judging everyone's kitchen equipment and their typical potluck behavior.  It's a good look into the home life and personality of the people you work with. 

The newest crock-pot in the room always belongs to the newly wed.  The oldest crock-pot in the room was also a wedding gift.  In fact - you can tell what year each person got married if you know your crock-pot history. 

The old single women have the serving dishes from the 70s.  You get the feeling that the Smithsonian has dibs on them.  They make food look all that more bland for some reason.  It's like you wouldn't have to use a filter on Instagram to get the proper aging in a photo of it. 

The top execs buy their potluck contributions from the store and don't even take them out of the grocery bag.  They just stack it all on the table still in the plastic grocery bags.  They're at the top of the food chain and have no idea of the disparity between what they make and what you make and prove it by bringing stuff from Dean and Deluca.

The single men show up with shit from CVS purchased minutes before the party gets started.  Quite often Halloween candy on sale after the holiday is involved.

The single women that bake a ton - weigh a ton.

At least one employee has a dish that requires them to babysit it the entire morning. 

Turkey is rationed, but there's a racket going on among the admins and they get more.

Shrimp in any state of decay are gobbled up first.

There are fourteen pumpking pies and a single can of Reddi Wip.

Somehow 40 people make 40 dishes each made to serve ten people and there's not a crumb left when it's over.

Did I miss anything?

The Monthly Birthday Party at Work

It's a sheet cake eating session for people who probably shouldn't be eating sheet cake.  A fat fest for the people at work who live for freebies.  Forced fun for others. I hate it.

A few months ago my office moved to monthly birthday celebrations.  The move was made when some people complained that only certain people were thrown birthday parties.  Only the well liked people got a birthday celebration and the complainers decided to do something about it without even thinking for a second that their urge to bust up the fun was probably the reason nobody likes them.  Irony - lost on a lot of people and completely misunderstood by Alanis Morissette.

So now we have this mandatory cake eating contest that is held every month.  It's an event where the office assholes can really shine.  Today's event inspired me to list the things I've noticed about the face-stuffing celebration.  Here they are -

1.  It's amazing how nuts a person making $150,000 a year will go over a free piece of cake. 

2.  If nobody wants an edge piece, then stop ordering sheet cakes.  Instead, we fight over edge pieces every time.

3.  I wonder what would happen if I hid the office's only cake knife.

4.  Sexism is alive and well in DC offices.  Notice that the women always cut, plate and pass - just like they always have and apparently always will.

5.  A fat guy who gets too small of a piece will all of a sudden become helpful and act like he's passing plates until he gets the mound of diabetes he wants.

6.  There's always that one woman who says she doesn't want any, but ends up eating a piece after a little peer pressure.  She always has a second piece.

7.  Skinny bitch brings her coffee or diet coke and chats everyone up.  Nobody even asks her if she wants cake.

8.  It's amazing how people get jazzed up over 30 minutes of time where they are mandated not to be working.   They're as excited as a lottery winner about getting one over on "The Man." 

9.  Nobody cleans up -ever.  Paper plates with dried cake on them will remain until the night time janitors come through and clean it up.  I'm convinced this is the reason they steal shit from us.

10.  There's always that one admin that volunteers in a very reluctant voice to take the leftovers (if there are any).  She pretends she doesn't want them or need them, but we all know she'll be eating them on the metro on the way home.

11.  Making 30 adults sing happy birthday at work to 15 coworkers is about as degrading as a rectal exam.

12.  Most people take the sodas and put them in their pocket.  What can I say - it's a work place commodity.

13.  Senior staff that is required to be present to make nice with the peons always make sure they look completely miserable.  However, I don't blame them for openly carrying hand sanitizer - we're dirty little rats.

14. Finally - the follow up "thank you" email is unnecessary and just plain stupid.  Thanking me for attending something I'm required to be at is like telling prisoners "we hope you enjoy your stay."

Did I miss anything?

There were assholes in line with me waiting to vote

I voted this morning in Arlington.  As usual there was a very long line.  This gave me lots of people to watch.  As usual, a few assholes made themselves known to all.  This is my story about three of them.

So, there I was waiting in line on an empty basketball court basking in the cold sun.  Seriously, the sun wasn't doing shit for the temperature - it should be fired immediately! 

Where were we? 

The line was long.  The volunteers monitoring the line and making sure everyone had a sample ballot were guessing an hour and a half wait for those of us wrapped around back to mid court.  I was a little miffed at first, but realized great sacrifices had been made so I could vote - enduring the cold was nothing compared to what others had done.   

About ten or fifteen people behind me there was some louder than appropriate chatter.  It wasn't until the line made a turn that I could get an eye on the culprits.  By this time I had heard enough of the conversation to figure out the relationship.  There was a married couple in their late twenties talking to a guy they knew who was also in his late twenties... and in law school - something he reiterated at the beginning of every sentence i.e. "In law school I...." 

Their topic of conversation was not inappropriate if it were being carried on privately.  However, it was being yelled across three people that were in line between the two parties.  They were catching up on weddings, vacations and the whereabouts of others they both knew, but hadn't stayed in contact with (anybody ever heard of Facebook?).  This rude behavior continued as the line moved us into the building to zig zag the hall a few times before reaching the voting chamber of death.   Okay, nobody died there, but as slow as people were moving toward it, you could figure something bad was happening in there. 

Their conversation moved to a mock trial they attended and we all soon learned they were GW assholes.  Yep - they started dropping their alma mater all over the place like we were all supposed to be very impressed.  We weren't. 

I felt bad for the three girls stuck between these two assholes.  The one guy further up in line never thought once to just let the three girls between him and his asshole friends go in front of him so he could chat at a normal level right next to said asshole friends.  Nope, Mr. Asshole just kept firing GW bombs right past those poor women for an hour and forty minutes straight.  What a dick.  Knowing my luck he's a republican too. 

That's all I have.

People We Hate - MarcParc

I have to write this as a matter of my civic duty.  Parking companies are assholes and sometimes they send you a letter certifying that fact. 

For years my building had one parking management company everybody tolerated and then recently they switched to MarcParc.  The change brought new signs and theft.  The signs didn't bother people so much; however, the theft raised a few eyebrows. 

My garage has valet parking - not because it's a fancy shmancy place - but because the garage is small and they have to pack the cars in and can't trust us to do that correctly.  For years the only complaint was the occasional situation where the valets whipped out the entire passenger side of someone's car.  It was the typical parking garage bullshit we all go through.  It was until MarcParc took over that there was ever a theft.  Years of nothing and then all of sudden this new company comes in and shit is getting stolen left and right.

A buddy of mine had his iPod in the center console of his car stolen.  Another buddy had his Leatherman (multi-purpose tool that is awesome) stolen from his glove box.  And from there the list just kept growing with the same basic details - car is left in the care of a valet, car's compartments are rifled through and shit is missing. 

 I'm no Sherlock Holmes, Perry Mason or Angela Lansbury, but I think I have an idea how all of this is going down.  I'm sure you've already figured it out as well.  Gremlins hiding in the air ducts are breaking into cars and stealing shit while people are at work and the valets aren't looking.  It's obvious right?  Right.

My buddy inquired with MarcParc about the stolen iPod and nicely asked them what they planned on doing about the situation.  Well, he got a letter from the company in response informing him that he could go enter into sexual congress with himself.  You can read that letter by clicking the link below.

Download Marc parc

 It's short, sweet and total bullshit.  Kirk Nielsen from MarcParc's department of "No We Didn't" gives the standard ridiculous response they all give "The disclaimer posted at the garage entrance states that MarcParc Inc. is not responsible for contents left inside vehicles."  Well, that would make sense if this incident took place in a facility where customers parked their own cars and were responsible for locking them up themselves.  In this case a MarcParc employee takes your keys and your car and the rest is left up to chance.  If your employee gets in my car - you're responsible for anything that jackass does while in that car. 

Somehow we've let the parking companies make a deal with us that sucks.  If you read all the disclaimers they post you'll realize that you're paying them $14 to do whatever the f*ck they feel like doing to your car.  They're not responsible for anything they claim.  If you come back to a smoldering hunk of metal that used to be your car - that's on you.  After all, they have a sign saying the reserve to break whatever they want and take whatever they want - it's up to you to prevent them from doing it.

The idea that they aren't responsible for your car while it is in their care is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.  It would be like a childcare center with disclaimer saying they aren't responsible for keeping your kid alive while he or she is in their care.  Nobody would think that was okay.  So why is this okay?  It's not. But we won't do anything about it so it's never going to change. 

Just remember that if you come out and your car stereo and air bags are missing - you shouldn't have left them in the car.  The sign says so.  The same goes for you full size spare tire that runs just south of $1,000 on BMWs and Mercedes - you shouldn't leave anything valuable in the car. 

The least Kirk Nielsen of MarcParc's"Go Suck an Egg" department could have done was offered some kind of acknowledgment that they'd do something about the problem.  He could have offered a free day's parking at one of their facilities at a minimum.  Better yet, he could have at least claimed that he reprimanded the staff.  My buddy would have felt better if Kirk Nielsen maybe said he tasered the guilty party or cut his hand off or branded him with an X on his forehead.  I mean, anything that showed some concern for the situation would have been nice.  It would likely have kept him from showing me the letter and inspiring me to tell the world that MarcParc is Captain Asshole of the parking industry. 

There's a lesson to be learned here, I'm just to0 lazy to figure out what it is.

 

Race Bib Etiquette

We're at the height of organized running season and I thought I'd help some of you out with your annoying little post race habits.  Unfortunately this is going to diminish the whole experience for you, but it will make you a better person in the long run (pun intended).  You don't become an exceptional Beltway citizen without a little work, you know. 

So, it's "5K season" as my friends call it.  Everybody is much too wimpy to run in the heat, so they wait until it gets cooler to trot about like they are part-time Olympians.  After all, your commitment to your good health is tied directly to the temperature.  Just notice the sudden spike in joggers on the Mall since the temperature dropped.  Fair weather runners are everywhere! 

I used to run a lot of 5Ks and 10Ks when I was single.  I've ran for everything from Brain Cancer to Cherry Blossoms back then.  After running one race as a favor to a friend I figured out that these races might actually be a good way to meet women.  These races were just teeming with girls who had a poor body image (hence the running as a "hobby") and low self-esteem (hence the poor body image).  Hot crazy women who were aiming to be accepted.  I couldn't lose.  But I did.

I was late to the game and clearly an interloper because I didn't wear shorts that showed my frank and beans, if you know what I mean. Oh, and I didn't weigh 77 pounds and run a four minute mile.  I was left to mingle with midsized girls who were there either because they believed in the cause, or were begged to attend by a friend who believed in the cause.   I'd like to claim things worked out a few times for me, but I wouldn't want to be seen riding a moped, if you know what I mean. 

Years later these races are much more popular.  Everybody runs them now because it's a social thing.  It's a whole big ordeal that culminates in a big stupid ritual that negates the point of the exercise in the first place.

First, race runners gather an hour before the race to pick up packets, socialize and bitch about how cold it is.  Then they start the race and finish roughly 30 minutes later.  After the race everybody mingles for an hour deciding what to do next. 

Inevitably the "what to do next?"  question is answered with "Whitlow's on Wilson." God knows that you gotta "carb up" after standing around for two hours and jogging for 30 minutes.  A little 5,000 calorie blast a la Michael Phelps will definitely help you recover from the strenuous workout. 

The whole thing is laughable.  I run by Whitlow's every Saturday on my way to the gym and see a line of assholes waiting to go replenish the 100 calories they burned at the race that morning with plates full of the most fattening crap any buffet in the world has to offer.  I'm sure they all think since they are still wearing workout clothes, their body will know that this meal doesn't count... because that's the key to fitness - wearing the right clothes.

The hypocrisy is funny.  The fact that all these assholes are still wearing their race bibs like they are some kind of badge of honor is pathetic.  Why in the world do people think it's cool to walk around for hours with some stupid number pinned to their belly?  When I see plump people still wearing their bibs at noon when the race ended at 8:30 a.m., I often wonder if they were actually in an eating contest earlier. 

Seriously - did you win the race?  Is that why you feel the need to still have the bib on hours after the race is over?  If so - go ahead.  However, it's likely you didn't win the race.  It's likely that the guy who won the race was back in his car driving home when you hit the half way point.  What are you s proud of?

 Nobody buys that you're some health nut once you start inhaling sausage gravy and scrambled eggs while washing down with beer during brunch.  Serious runners do not do this - they go home and drain all their blood, fill it with cocaine and red bull and then put it back in.  You aren't that hardcore.  For God's sake you only run when the temperature is between 63 - 68 degrees when it's sunny. 

It's bad enough that DC area residents now think the dress code for brunch is workout attire even though nobody was working out before they arrived.  Add the bibs to the equation and it's just too much. 

If I see with your bib on, I'm going to embarrass you.  I'm going to ask - "did you run a race today?"  And you'll say - "YES I DID!"  and I'll say "Looks like you should have run a couple more, porky." 

Bottom line - when the race is over put the damn bib in the damn trash.  If you keep the bib as some kind of "memento," you need to get a life.  If running a very short distance with a bunch of sweaty strangers is a momentous occasion in your life, step in front of a bus.  Try explaining that bib hanging on your wall to a stranger in honest terms sometime and see how stupid you sound.  I'll give you a hint, it sounds like this:

  "That's a reminder of the time I once ran for 30 minutes and came in  857th place out of 1,000"

That's not an accomplishment, that's called "Saturday morning" for people who aren't pretentious pudgy assholes. 

Run your stupid races.  Run them like you've never run from anything in your life.  However, when it's over - it's over.  Nobody needs to see your pathetic badge of mediocrity as you stuff your fat face in the name of fitness afterwards. 

See you on Saturday at Whitlow's - I'll be the sweaty fat guy without the race bib. 

People We Hate - one stop metro riders

Do you know the kind of people I'm talking about here?  Are you one of them?  Have no idea what I'm talking about? Let me clarify the issue for all of you.

I'm talking about people who get on the metro within the DC city limits and get off one stop later.  The geographical restriction is simple - the stops are closer once you enter the city and most of them are easily walkable station to station.  Outside the city the stops tend be farther apart and much harder to conveniently walk between. 

Got it?  Good. 

These assholes get on the metro at Farragut West and get off at McPherson Square.  It's a three block, five minute walk between the two stations and these dipshits can't pull it off.  Instead, they enter the metro system, waste 15 minutes getting to the platform, waiting for a train, riding the train and then standing in line to leave the station.  It's the laziest, dumbest thing you'll witness in DC and that's saying a lot with all these damn tourists running around.

First of all, you gotta be an asshole if you're not smart enough to know that you can waddle your happy ass faster stop to stop in most cases than entering the metro system and riding the same distance.  You're also a lazy fatass, which I can say because I'm a gigantic fatass myself.  However, I walk the three blocks instead of getting on the metro because I'm aware of how ignorant it is to ride for one stop within the city.

And since these people are assholes,  you know how their metro manners are - terrible.  They're usually the ones who fight their way onto the train before anyone has gotten off.  It makes sense, though. If they're unaware of how moronic it is to ride the train one stop, they're obviously not capable of comprehending the common sense rule of letting people get off the train before they attempt to enter the train.  And they wouldn't be the purest form of asshole if they didn't push to the center of the train and fight for a seat for their two minute ride to the next stop.  And that always ends with them having to push everyone down to try and get out.  In their little tiny brains it makes sense to get as far away from the door as possible even though they're getting off at the next stop. 

What about the complete waste of money?  Look, I'm not good with money.  I spend money on the dumbest shit you can imagine.  Besides both of us being Homo sapiens, it's the only thing my wife and I have in common.  We speak with a level of experience when it comes to wasting money that few people on Earth have and we both agree that paying to ride the metro for three blocks is the ultimate stupid waste of money.  But, that doesn't matter to the one stop rider because we've already shown them to but ignorant, lazy and unaware - just add "bad with money" to the line of negatives on their life report card. 

I wish that there was some kind of alarm that would sound when these people went to swipe their Smartrip card to leave.  Maybe a female voice that just repeats "dumbass" several times while a red light flashes.  At the least it would shame them and at best it would alert others to their lack of mental strength, laziness and inability to assess their own idiotic actions.  Best case scenario it keeps people form handing these asshole sharp objects.  However, I know WMATA won't do this because they like ripping you off for a three block ride, but it would  be very cool.

And before you lose your mind in the comments section below because I just called you out for being an asshole and you're angry about it - I'm not talking about days where the weather is bad.  I'm talking about all the assholes who do it on perfectly nice days.  Nobody faults anyone for hiding from the rain in the metro system.  You can now comment accordingly. 

A quick reminder about rain and crazy homeless people

If you're not an expert on crazy homeless people like I am, you can be excused if you're not aware of the special conditions that set them off.  It's taken years of riding the metro, the bus and walking the streets of DC to acquire my intimate knowledge of the underpaid and over-crazy.

When it rains - crazy homeless people go a little extra crazy.  Water tends to set them off like children pointing or staring at them does.  Want to see a 300 pound black man in an extra small Mickey Mouse t-shirt lose his shit in the middle of the street?  Make sure you're at the intersection of 16th and U st when the rain starts. The show gets started roughly a few minutes after the gutters are running full. 

Rain is inconvenient enough for those of us forced to rely on mass transit to get around.  Add crazy homeless people seeking shelter within that transit system and it's just terrible.  A soaking wet homeless guy pretending to be retarded was making his rounds on my Orange Line train this morning.  I'm guessing his normal begging spot isn't rain resistant and he had to make a small investment to get inside the metro system to secure a captive audience from which he hopes to make his daily salary.  You may have also noticed the shift of the beggars to the train from the street during inclement weather.   That's a lot of insanity in very close quarters. 

I'm pretty sure that the rain sets off the nutbags because they see it as a sign from God.  Whatever they've been babbling about to Jesus' daddy is answered with what is obviously God's only communication tool - rain... or the lack there of.  Once they get their answer from God it's time celebrate their enlightenment by being bigger assholes than normal to the rest of us who don't have a direct line to the big guy in the sky.  Call it "gloating," if you will.

I'm not sure how to make it stop, but I do know how to avoid the crazy - Uber to and from work.

Update on the Comcast Saga

A few weeks a go I wrote an open letter to Comcast that got a decent amount of attention from not only other cable sufferers, but Comcast itself.  If you followed the comment thread, you'dsee that a guy calling himself "Mark Casem" from Comcast posted the below comment:

Hi there!

I work for Comcast and I wanted to offer my help so that we can address your concerns.

If you don't mind, will you please contact me; provide the phone and address associated with your account? Also, please include a link to this page as a point of reference.

We apologize for the trouble.

Mark Casem
Comcast Corp.
National Customer Operations
We_can_help@cable.comcast.com

For a second there I was pretty excited.  I truly thought that the grandson of the most famous radio personality of all time was asking me to contact him.  Then I realized that Mark spelled his last name with a C instead of a K.  Close, but no banana. 

Not long ago these large corporations would just sue my ass to shut me up.  Due to the birth of "SLAPP laws" in many states, corporations had to back away from suing everyone who criticized them on the internet.  They also figured out that suing a blogger for complaining about their product or service usually just made things worse for them and brought more attention to whatever it was they didn't want people to read or hear about.  Corporate America decided they'd solve the problem by creating a position that would track down these negative internet vibes and eradicate them with kindness.   The idea being that they could offer bitchy bloggers something free and they'd remove or amend the offending post.  And, it's working in most cases.  However, not in mine.

I emailed Mark Casem all the information he requested and waited patiently by my phone for hours  hoping he'd call.   His comment gave me the impression that he has a sunny disposition and would likely empathize with my situation.  I imagined that he'd fix all of my problems and that we'd skip hand in hand over  a grassy hill toward a huge double rainbow and off into cable paradise.  I could hardly wait to talk to Mr. Casem! 

Well, things didn't quite turn out to be rainbows and cable paradise.  I got a call from a woman who was a customer care specialist of some kind in Maryland.  She had left me a message on my phone.  Her words were much like Mark Casem's, but her tone was that of someone who hated her job, me and the rest of the world.  I can't recreate the tone of her voice here since this medium is restricted to the written word.  However, I can try to put her tone into words.  The way she said what she said had me hearing this:

  "This is a total wast of my time, you stupid ass motherf*cker, I should be outside talking on my phone and smoking, but your dumbass don't know how to work a god damn tv remote so I got call you and walk your stupid ass through the process.  Stupid ass motherf*cker."

I'd like to say I'm exaggerating here, but my wife listened to the message several times confirming that the woman who left it was not a happy person who liked fixing other people's problems.  My wife's exact words were "I'd be scared to call that woman back."

The woman claimed she emailed me, but that was not the case.  I'm a loser who gets next to no email (or real mail for that matter) so I would have noticed. I never received anything from her or anyone else at Comcast.

I was also put off that I had to talk to someone from Maryland, not Virginia where I live.  I don't want you to get the impression that I have something against Maryland, but I have something against Maryland.  I choose to stay out of that state for a reason (allergic to gun shot wounds).   They couldn't have someone from Virginia call me?  Do they not have a presence in Virginia?  Is this why my cable never works? 

I didn't end up calling the lady back because there wasn't anything she could do other than what was about to happen again - send a technician out to confirm that my shit isn't the problem.  You see, my wife called them again and they promised to send a signal to fix everything, which they never did send and never have.  Then they sent another technician out to the house who once again tested everything and pretended to be baffled why my On Demand wouldn't work and why my internet connection had Parkinson's during certain times of the day (both problems never coincide with each other so it's not my line, it's Comcast's problem). 

Of course, the technician replaced the coax cable and made it 25 feet too long so I now have this ugly wire looped up and around behind the TV and it drives me nuts.  Oh yeah, did mention that it didn't fix anything? I did, didn't I!  No it doesn't work and I have a stupid wire sticking out from behind my TV - AWESOME! 

A few days later my wife, because she is not a quitter, called them again to complain.  Here's where things got to the "insult to injury" point with us.  My wife told the person every single thing we'd had done - the amount of technicians that had come out, the calls, the praying, the seances, the sacrifices to the cable Gods and everything else we'd done.  Their answer was astounding - they promised to send out one of their "lead technicians" to fix the problem.  Meanwhile my wife is screaming at the guy "JUST TELL ME IT'S F*CKED UP ON YOUR SIDE AND I'LL STOP CALLING!  JUST ADMIT YOUR SHIT ISN'T WORKING AND I'LL BE SATISFIED."

At this point I'm rocking back and forth in a corner like I just saw a ghost and it was Mama Cass naked.  My wife is pacing the floor and actually bringing up some good points as she rants out loud about the situation.  Her main point was simple - why in the hell didn't we get the A-Team technician in the first place?  Why would they have good technicians and not so good technicians?  "Shouldn't they all be a lead technician?!?!?" she half suggested half asked no one in particular.

She had told them not to send the guy, but they talked her into it and he was supposed to come this last Tuesday.  Comcast called me at least 12 times to confirm that I would be there.  The "lead technician" didn't show up.  Not that he would have done anything different than any of the other guys, but still - show up if you're going to call me 12 times to confirm you're coming. 

So that's where we are - still screwed after all this time.  Oh wait - I forgot the best part.

You might remember that they promised to send my box a signal to fix everything and never actually sent the signal once to fix the problem.  We've asked them to do this at least 20 times with not a single successful signal sent.  I was told repeatedly that those signals didn't "work" because my shit was f*cked up and didn't work.  To be clear - I was told that my wires and my box were the problem and the reason they couldn't send a signal.  Well, I found out that all that was complete and utter bullshit thanks to my love of Football. 

On the Saturday before the opening of the NFL season I called them to get the NFL Redzone package.  It's $8 a month and comes with eight or so channels that I will actually watch. What a great deal, right?  Right.  I talked to a nice lady on the phone who was so helpful I wanted to hire her to work for me here in DC. She was awesome.  I told her that I was worried my cable box wouldn't receive the signal she had to send to let it know that I now had access to these new channels. She didn't worry at all.  Approximately four minutes later I had eight new channels.  WHAT THE F*CK, OVER?

How on earth can my shit all of sudden work flawlessly when I was told it was screwed up and broken by people at the very same company?  If the lady in the Redzone department can send my box a signal, why can't the lady in the customer service department do the same? 

I'm so pissed at this point I'm almost at the point of forsaking TV and learning to read and buying a Kindle!

So... that's where things stand these days.

 Pray for me.  Actually - Pray for AT&T Uverse!

Open Letter to Comcast - I can't quit you, but I want to

Dear Comcast,

I'd like you to know that it has been 11 years since we first came together as cable provider and cable subscriber.  In those 11 years a lot has changed.  Today we have DVRs, HDTV and the wondrous On Demand feature that had lived in our sci-fi dreams since childhood.  However, some things haven't changed.  You're still terrible at the customer service game.  This letter is intended to let you know how much you still suck in that department. 

I guess my first complaint would be the fact that you can't keep your shit working consistently.  We can put an RC Car carrying 15 cameras on Mars, drive it over mountains and send pictures of the trip back to earth and you can't even get On Demand to work for more than three days straight.  What's your problem?  If it takes a rocket scientist to figure out - hire one.  You made $1.22 billion in the first quarter of this year, it's not like you couldn't slice off $400 or $500 Gs to pick up one of the many out of work NASA scientists out there to fix the problem.  If it's a nerd you need, go get one.

Because you can't keep things like your On Demand service or your internet service working, we customers have to call you to find out what the hell is going on with our very expensive cable provided entertainment.  And this is where you really drop the ball.  I can't stress enough how truly shitty you are at this part of the game.  Wait, I think I can. 

You are so shitty at customer service that satellite TV exists and makes a profit.  Think about that for a second.  People would rather buy a product that doesn't work in the wind, rain, when birds fly over, during the Harvest Moon or when someone is flying a kite within a mile of their dish because they hate you that much.  Satellite TV is the worst product for delivering television programming since the invention of television and people happily pay for it because they hate you that much.  And not only will they happily pay for a shitty product, they'll fist fight others in defense of it!  You see, satellite TV customers are happy because they at least know exactly why their shit doesn't work. They don't have to call and get lied to like they did when they were Comcast subscribers - they already know the answer!  And that's your biggest problem - you're a bunch of damn liars.  Lies of omission, granted, but lies nonetheless.

What's worse than your lying?  The process I have to go through to get hear your lies. 

When calling you I have to go through a shitload of unnecessary options and it only adds to my anger and frustration.  People only call you for one reason - THEIR CABLE ISN'T WORKING!  I would venture a guess that upwards of 99 percent of the calls you get are on that subject. So, why do I have to go through a long list of options I'll never choose?  Do you think it's funny to piss me off?  I think you do. 

Once I spend 15 minutes punching in just the right sequence of numbers in order to get a live person on the phone, you ask me for my account information.  This wouldn't be so bad if weren't a complete waste of my time.  You see, after I type in my phone number, my customer ID number and the last four digits of my social security number, I'll be asked to provide each of them again when your support person picks up the phone.  Why in the hell do I give you all the information once, only to have to repeat it? Again, are you doing this to us because you think it's funny?  Are the top executives at Comcast sitting around a speaker phone in conference room somewhere drinking Scotch and giggling at our frustration? Is that why you run that disclaimer "this call may be monitored" every nine seconds?  If so, just let me know - I'll feel a little better about the whole shitty situation knowing that at least someone is enjoying the experience.

 After we get the account formalities out of the way it's time to do the reset dance with your customer service representative.  Asking me if I have reset the box is like a flight attendant warning passengers that they're on a nonsmoking flight - completely useless.  I've unplugged the box for ten seconds and plugged it in back in, alright.  I've done it 50 times hoping I didn't have to call you so you would tell me to do it again!  Before I call your customer service I've unplugged the box, shut off the power to the house, gone to confession, sacrificed a goat to the pagan God of communication, held a seance, thrown salt over my left shoulder, asked everyone on Facebook to pray for me and had a Wiccan priest burn frog eyes and lizard tails near the box.  Believe me, I've already played your little bullshit game of unplugging the box before I call.  And you know what - IT HAS NEVER WORKED IN THE ELEVEN YEARS YOU'VE BEEN TELLING ME TO DO IT! Please stop asking me to do that - it only wastes my time. 

The next step with costumer service goes one of two ways.  They either suggest that there's something wrong with my equipment (cables, splitters etc. et al) and a technician will need to come out, or they promise to send a "signal" to my box to fix the problem.  Either scenario lets the customer service representative dump me back into oblivion rather quickly so they can repeat the process with another angry customer. 

When I pick the scenario where a technician comes out, it predictably ends with the problem solving itself moments before he knocks on my door.  I spend most of my time with the technician trying to convince him that just moments before he got there that nothing was working and that I'm not crazy.  Again, this is insanely annoying and if someone at Comcast headquarters is listening to me defend my sanity to a stranger and getting a kick out of it - let me know so I can at least make sense of the charade.  

Once the technician tires of me defending my sanity, he checks my signal and  tells me that my equipment seems to be just fine, which infuriates me every single time they tell me that (three times in two months, if you're wondering).  For good measure he calls someone at Comcast and has them send a "signal" hoping that prevents any future problems.  The end results is nothing different than a doctor writing a prescription for a placebo to placate his hypochondriac patient. 

What the whole visit doesn't solve for me is the mysterious outages in services that were supposedly due to my equipment that has been now deemed in perfect working order by the technician.  Obviously the problem isn't with me!  And if this damn signal is needed to make my cable work; why don't they send it every night at 3:00 a.m. just to make sure it's working when I get up?

Now, if I want to skip the technician part the costumer representative will promise to send my cable box a "signal" within the next 30 to 45 minutes.  Why you can not do it any quicker is beyond my understanding.  If you can beam me Monday Night Football in HD in real time, why can't you send a signal telling my cable box to get its shit together in same time frame?  (See my note above on the rocket scientist.)

Inevitably I spend the next three hours waiting for something to happen and nothing does.  Again, if there's someone at Comcast headquarters laughing their ass off watching me through my box sitting there like a f*cking idiot waiting for a miracle to happen - let me know, at least I'll know I'm usefull to the world in some way.  This let down leads me to calling back and going through all the bullshit above again and having a technician sent out who will... you know the how it goes - read above again if you've forgotten.   I hope it makes you laugh so hard you piss your pants.  And I hope it's the fifth pair of pants you have pissed through today and have run out of spares.

Here's the part where I'm supposed to tell you that you're fired.  Well, that's not going to happen.  Because I live in a neighborhood that was built shortly after the people in Roanoke disappeared, I don't have access to AT&T Uverse.  My parents have Uverse and like everything else they've had in their life (most notably me) it's awesome.  And I've already explained why I won't subscribe to Satellite TV.  So, you are not fired.

Although, you can bet your granny's panties I've already dug the trench for the Uverse cable in front of my house and sent pictures to AT&T with a promise to dig up the rest of the block if they'll just buy the fiber optic cable and plug into their magic box.  Luckily for you they've not gotten back to me.  By God when they do - I'm going to wrap my house in their logo and spend my weekends holding their sign at a busy intersection in Clarendon (you don't know where Clarendon is, but if you did, you'd be very worried). 

Here's what I need from you.  I need you to have your customer service representatives start being honest.  When I tell them the cable box tells me an "error 14" has occured, I need them to tell me what that means and what it is going to take to fix it.  If one of your dipshit IT guys forgot to feed the hamster that powers the computer that runs On Demand - f*cking tell me that!  Don't have me do the cable box hokey pokey three times a night only to have a technician come out and do the exact same thing three days later.  Just be honest!  I won't understand, and I'll still be mad, but at least I'll know what's going on and I'll stop bothering your customer support representatives with my dumb little concerns about being ripped off to the tune of $110 a month. 

You must also stop pulling this bullshit of telling customers that On Demand is a free service and therefore we should shut our stupid little mouths and go play in traffic if it doesn't work all the time.  If you're going to offer something, whether or it's free or not, make it work because if it doesn't, your customers will assume that all of your services suck.  I'd gladly pay for On Demand if you made some guarantee that it would work consistently. 

I'm sure you're having a good laugh at my expense right now blotting tears of laughter away with hundred dollar bills and such, but Karma is a spiteful little bitch and I'm pretty sure you're on her list these days.  If you don't watch out, your profits will fall and you'll be kicked off the peak of Management Mountain with only a $23 million golden parachute to save you.  Don't say I didn't warn you. 

Now gentlemen, if you'll excuse me I have to go reset my cable modem so that I might upload this letter to the internet. 

Love,

Brad

Metro Pole Violators Lineup #6 - Addicted to the smart phone

This round of Pole Violators were being assholes in the spirit of phone addiction.  Look at these people and make sure you aren't like them.

It's a relatively empty train, so she's not the worst offender ever.  As you'll see, the single arm around the pole is the position of choice for these folks.

I hate this guy.  His pole violation is probably the least egregious thing he did on his short metro ride.  He got on with me at Metro Center pushing his way violently through the mass of people who were getting off.  As you can see - it's a pretty empty train in the picture.  Moments before it was packed - he plowed right through them.  He violated the pole for exactly  two stops and then pulled the ultimate bullshit move on me.  About two seconds after the doors closed at Farragut West, he pushed me and another guy out of the way and stood with is nose touching the door to get out at Foggy Bottom.  Mind you, it's still an empty train at this point.  There was zero reason to push two people out of the way to find the door before the train even left the platform of the stop before the one he was getting off on.  This guy was definitely the asshole of the week.

Running a close second for asshole of the week is this woman.  She and girl couldn't wait for people to exit the crowded train at Roslyn this morning.  The doors opened and she forced her way in followed by another rude chick.  What you can't see in this picture is the three people who were holding on to that  pole on a fairly crowded train.  This woman wrapped her arm around the pole with their hands still attached to it and didn't seem to care she was leaning on someone else's flesh and bone.  Of course, the people let go and retreated to find a new place to hold on.  One woman said "bitch" under her breath, but the violator didn't hear her because she was ear buds.  Her little ride of rudeness wouldn't have been complete if she didn't try to push her way to the door at Farragut West while the train was still moving causing one man to lose balance and fall into the guy next to him.  Oh, and did I mention that she wasn't moving for anyone when the train stopped at Foggy Bottom?  I take it back - she's the co-asshole of the week. 

Predatory towing in Clarendon sucks - nothing you can do about it

A few weeks ago I caught a link on FamousDC about "predatory towing."  You can read the Washington Post blog post HERE.  Unfortunately I had my own run-in with the practice this weekend and it pissed me off to no end.  The only thing I can do is throw a little negative internet karma at Advanced Towing of Arlington.

I don't feel too sorry for those people who park in a private parking lot where it's clearly marked what businesses you must be patronizing in order to not get towed.  The lady in the blog post I linked to above deserved to get towed.  Her excuse that she was only breaking the rules for a minute doesn't fly.  She knew she was breaking the rules and decided to make a sign to put in her window to confirm to anyone who walked by that she was breaking the rules.  At that point, you kind of have to stop and say - "If I'm this worried about being towed, maybe I should just move and not leave it up to chance or someone's pity on my situation."   I know exactly where she was even though she doesn't give an address.  She could have parked illegally on the street and been closer to the door of the building and likely not been ticketed since they aren't as bad in Arlington as they are in the DC about that kind of stuff.

The story of the woman in the blog is everyone's story in Clarendon it seems.  "I was just running in" seems to be the excuse.  I learned ten years ago in Clarendon that feeding a meter or paying $6 for a spot in a garage is a lot better than taking the chance that Advance Towing will decide it's your day to pay.  I never ever park in those little private parking lots even if I'm patronizing the businesses connected to them. You'll get towed every two out of three times you park there even if you're following the rules. 

I bet you're asking - why?  Let me tell you why via what happened to my wife yesterday.

 Click here to reference the area my wife was towed http://goo.gl/maps/FAY21.  She was parked on the back side of the big building just off of N. Garfield right next to Hunan #1.

She was headed to Paciugo Gelato and Caffè to get some gelato to go (to go or not doesn't matter here).  She parked in the lot because the lot has a sign that clearly states it's for patrons of the businesses in that building - all of them at 3033 Wilson.  She noticed a fat Hispanic dude sitting on an electrical box staring at her.  She made eye contact with the guy as she exited the care.  She was just a little curious/worried what the shabby looking guy was doing loitering on the fringe of a parking lot. 

What my wife didn't know was that he was a "spotter."  He's employed by Advanced Towing to go parking lots they have a contract to tow from looking for, and turning in, people who park illegally.  The idea being that he watches to see if you get of your car and go to the correct store.  If you don't , you get towed.  If you do go to the right store, you still might get towed - more on this in a second.  

When my wife left Paciugo with a ton of gelato it was starting to rain pretty hard.  When she got to the parking lot a short distance away, her Jeep (our only vehicle) was gone.  She had left her phone in the car to charge, so she had to scrounge for a phone.  A very good samaritan who saw her car get towed behind her back literally as she passed the window at Hunan #1 let her borrow the phone.

As my wife is talking to Advanced dispatch, she alerts the owner of Paciugo of what happened thinking he can help.  Other people from the businesses are starting to join her outside seeing that she's distraught and them knowing what has happened - Advantage towed somebody in error again.  All of the people who work at the businesses relate that they have been repeatedly towed in error by Advanced Towing - every one of them!

The dispatch lady asks my wife is she can prove she was shopping at Paciugo with a receipt.  My wife says she has a receipt, the owner's word and now a growing group of witnesses. 

The dispatcher calls the spotter on the radio, but doesn't mute the phone call she's sharing with my wife.  My wife gets to hear the whole exchange while watching the fatass spotter from 50 feet away.  He admits that my wife didn't break the rules, but indicated she was the last one to park when the tow truck showed up (these are not direct quotes, because they use a bunch of slang I had to decipher from my wife's retelling).  Let's stop here - so I can explain why he said "the last one to park when the tow truck showed up."

Spotters move from parking lot to parking lot all day and night in Clarendon.  Much of the time they radio in violators, meet the tow truck that has been sent and help them "hook" the vehicle.  I say much of the time because Advanced has their tow truck drivers constantly circling the area.  If a tow truck comes by a parking lot with a spotter in it and they haven't radioed in a violator - they go ahead and take the last vehicle to park there.  The tow truck rolls up - the spotter points to the last one that parked and they take it.  Why? 

First of all - the person who most recently got out of their vehicle is the one most likely not to show up while their car is being towed.  If a car has been there an hour, there's a good chance the owner will walk up while it's getting "hooked."  That's never a good scenario for Advantage.  They don't want confrontation.  They want to be long gone by the time you show up. 

Second, they don't waste their time driving around waiting for someone to blatantly break the rules before they decide to head to the nearest lot where they know a spotter is waiting and just take the most recently parked car.  Advanced towing gets paid for towing cars - that's it.  They're willing to take the chance of towing a car they shouldn't have knowing you're not going to do shit about it.  It's likely that you'll cave and pay whatever they're asking since most people these days are afraid of confrontation.  They are extremely aggressive with you making sure that you know that your refusal to pay them what they're asking at the moment will only cost you more as they have to store your car.  They know the worst that can happen to them for towing a car they shouldn't have towed, is that they have to let you come drive it off their lot for free.  That's the maximum penalty they can pay for that day for wrongly towing your car ("that day" being important here).  It's only a small risk to take for such a big reward. 

The worst part is that spotters pick on women almost exclusively. Women who are pregnant or that have children with them are even better for them as targets.  Women are considered to be out of their element automotive wise.  This is why there's a long history of mechanics ripping them off.  The tow game is no different.  A woman with two toddlers screaming bloody murder isn't likely to put up much of a fight to get her car back and her kids home safely.  She will pay a mint to get her family back to a place of safety and security.   

Check out Advanced Towing's YELP reviews - an inordinate amount of women have been victimized.  You might also realize that they use big burly men with lots of tattoos and few teeth for a reason in this industry - to intimidate women.  It's no coincidence that the Advanced drivers look and act the way they do.  It's all a ploy to make sure you pay them no matter what.  The County of Arlington's tow crew doesn't look at all as nasty as these guys.  Nothing about operating a tow truck requires you to look like a giant wife beating piece of shit.  Scaring people into paying money you're not owed does. 

Witnesses and the timing of the ordeal show that my wife's car was hooked mere seconds after she left it.  The spotter indicated to dispatch that he did in fact tow her car without cause.  He also let dispatch know that a crowd was gathering.  The dispatcher then told him to get out of there before the cops showed up.  This is a chicken shit thing for them to do, but they know if a cop shows up that they're going to not only have to release the car for free, but likely tow it back to where they found it.  Getting a representative from the towing company out of the area before the cops could show up was the top mission for the dispatcher.  They can dodge the cops if their guys aren't on scene.

Once fatty left, my wife was told that she'd likely have to pay a small fee for releasing the vehicle.  Needless to say, my wife lost her mind on them and the fee was all of a sudden waived.  However, they wouldn't bring the Jeep to her.  After a little more wrangling, the dispatcher said they'd send someone to pick her up. 

The two skuzzy looking teenagers they sent to pick up my wife were reeking of weed, booze and cheap cigarettes.  It was a boyfriend and girlfriend situation and they were obviously spotters as well, spending the day getting high and drunk while turning in people for illegally parking.  The kind woman who lent my wife the phone would not let her ride with them alone.  They took a wild ride a quarter mile to the yard in Ballston and having had enough of my wife's anger, the dispatcher waved her straight through to get her car. 

Another bad part is that my vehicle is full-time four-wheel-drive, which requires them to tow it using "dollies."  They dragged my Jeep out of its parking spot in order to get it on dollies.  Thank God the ground was wet and I didn't end up with flat spots on my tires.  Most other people receive damage when Advantage takes their vehicles and most of the time they damage them on purpose. 

My wife didn't have to pay like a lot of people do, but that's because she's not afraid to make a scene.  Hundreds of other people each week get flat out ripped off by this company because they're too afraid to stand up.  Sadly, even if you do stand up, there's nothing you can really do to Advanced Towing.  You can call the cops, but they really can't do much to Advanced due to state laws that allow them to hold any car they want for ransom.  They don't have to prove anything to a cop at all.   The only thing the cops can do is alert their supervisor who will tell someone in the Arlington County administration that Advanced Towing is getting a lot of complaints and taking up officer's time. 

Why can't the cops do anything?  Because state legislation doesn't allow them to. How did that happen?  I'm glad you asked.

In the real world, I'm a political guy.  I'm paid to know how legislation at all levels of government works.  In this case, we're talking about state law and towing companies.  Here's how they worked themselves a sweetheart deal.

Like every other single profession in the country, towing companies formed a professional association.  They have them in all 50 states and one at the national level.  Many of them likely have local chapters as well.  These associations allow them to get together and decide what's good for the industry and how to make it happen.

In Virginia it is likely their towing association decided to approach some legislators about a bill that would make their job a little easier.  At least, that's how they sold it to the legislators.  What the bill was actually slated to do was to protect towing companies from their own mistakes.  They wanted to make it tougher for the average citizen to keep them from towing their vehicle and they also wanted to make the process of recouping any expenses for being wrongfully towed tougher if not impossible. 

Well, with no real opposition to the plan, how could the legislators deny them a vote on the bill?  After all, it's not like there was an organized group out there opposing new towing laws.  And like many other issues where consumers get it in the ass, the towing companies got their get out of jail free card for life. 

Even now, they don't face an organized opposition.  People get their cars towed, get screwed and then move on with their life. They chalk it up to a lesson learned.  Not much is going to change until someone already in elected office gets screwed.  Then again, things involving the elected class tend to get smoothed over so they don't go out and introduce retaliatory legislation.  We all know how that works.

So what can you do?

You can't do anything at the moment you're being towed.  If you call the cops, they'll write down everyone's name and your car is still going to be towed if it was parked illegally.  Talking to a cop years ago in Arlington I learned that if the company blatantly towed you under false pretenses - the police would tell them to bring the car back.  The tow trucks would oblige even though they have state law saying they don't have to.  The cops only threat is to initiate an onsite inspection of the towing vehicle and that can lead to the truck being taken out of service and big fines.

If you see your car getting towed make sure whip out that phone of yours and take a video of everything.  It's a good way to prove they damaged your vehicle.  It's also a good way to catch them not properly hooking your car up and driving off with it. Believe it or not, they have to secure the car before entering a public street.  Failure to do so is against the law.   Your video evidence could be the one thing you get to throw back at them.

Do not start a confrontation with the driver.  Don't grab onto your car or his truck.  Your life is not worth a car and you can get killed pretty easily in that situation if you put yourself in a bad spot.  If you attack them - you're going to jail.  Then you have a bigger problem than you started with.  If they get rough with your or threaten you - call the cops and report it.  It's better if you have video evidence. 

When you see them speeding up and down Wilson and Clarendon, which we all do, call the non-emergency number and report them 703-558-2222.

You can file in small claims court to try and recoup your loss.  This doesn't cost much and gives them a headache.  If they don't show, they owe.   I know this doesn't make you feel any better at the moment your car is being towed, but it costs them money to defend their actions.  In a just world, thousands of you would take them to small claims court at the same time forcing them to spend lots of money defending themselves.  Even if you lose, they lose too. 

Of course, you could make it a point to avoid those parking lots.  I will not park in them under any circumstance.  If you're on the street, you're the County's problem and they're easier to deal with.  If not parking in those lots means not doing business with certain place, well they should have thought about that before they hired a predatory towing company to watch their lot.  It's their loss, not yours.

Here's my warning to everyone - this is all escalating and it's not going to end well.  The public sentiment toward Advanced Towing is entering the area where people will do something stupid.  Somebody at the county level needs to step in and make sure the community and those who make their living off of it (Advanced Towing) get back to a stable place.  Nobody needs  a pack of rowdy drunk men taking the growing anger at that company and turning into something we all regret some Saturday night.  The writing is not on the wall, it's on the internet and if someone doesn't take notice, bad things will happen. 

People we hate - Users of the Elliptical Machine

Okay, we don't really hate these people.  We hate what they do and as you'll find we're actually concerned for them.  

If you're not someone who frequents the gym with any regularity, this post probably isn't for you. This is high level gym talk.  

If you do go to the gym and find yourself on one of THESE more often than not - your feelings are about to be hurt.  And... if your feelings are easily hurt and things you read on the internet make you cry, this is probably a good time to tend to your many adopted cats with people names.  

The rest of you - hate mail goes to bradkanus@gmail.com. 

As you know, I'm a disgusting fatass who must workout daily in order not to burst into a ball of flaming alfredo sauce.  Because I'm a shallow person, I notice things about other people that I don't like.  If I were a good person I would focus on other people's positive attributes like their possible usefulness as a cork for a volcano hole.  That doesn't sound like fun for you as a reader or me as a person, so I'll just continue being the current me.

Elliptical machines are not good for you - at least health wise.  They're definitely bad for you image wise.  

Nobody looks dumber in the gym than the rows of elliptical riders awkwardly paddling their feet back in forth trying to both ski and run at the same time.  Never has someone ever looked at someone on an elliptical machine and thought "now that's athletic, that's a workout."  My initial thought is "silly" and then I simply wonder if they're using it wrong.  It's just a very unflattering motion and unlike running or biking, there's no fixing the wrong - not even with practice. 

My wife loves the elliptical and I don't mind because she's very pretty and it keeps the men away.  Nobody wants to hit on a girl who is reverse ski-jogging making her bob up and down like a buoy on a busy lake.  It's just not cute.

Straight men should stay the hell off of these machines if they want to retain any shred of dignity.  I don't have to warn gay men not to use them - they have enough self-awareness to know that those machines make a person look silly and uncoordinated.  And that fits in with my general assessment of gay men and their image - they're never not on their game.   Too bad straight men are oblivious to how the outside world sees them. 

There's always some fruity fat guy bobbing up and down in amongst the ladies in the elliptical aisle and you have to figure he thinks he's doing what it takes to get laid.  The same kind of dude shows up for Jazzercise classes and dances his pudgy ass off like he's just one of the girls.  In both cases he sees himself like Rocky Balboa training for the big fight and assumes the women around him are seeing the same thing - a sexy athletic man morphing his body into a lean muscular sex temple.  In reality, he looks like he's on rainbow mountain run-skiing away from a fabulous pink saber-toothed unicorn.  The scene fills me with pity, then joy and then pity again.  

Again, I'm not talking about gay men here. I'm talking about effeminate straight men who think acting like a girl will get them laid.  It probably works and I'm just bitter, but at least I don't look like an asshole. 

You would have to guess that an exercise machine that requires you to discard your dignity would replace it with a good workout.  You'd be wrong if you made that guess. 

The words "low impact" in fitness function like the words "low fat" in dieting.  When something is labeled "low fat" it's just an indication that there is less fat per regular serving, which means you're going to have more servings than you would normally have.  It's a ruse to make you think you're doing something that is good for you when in fact it's not.  How many times have you touted your switch to low fat cookies to friends and left out the part where you're eating three boxes of them a day? 

An elliptical user will gladly tell you that the machine is "low impact," which is to say "easier on my knees than running."  What they mean is "easier than actually working out." They're right - it's easy on  your knees and everything else because it's less of a strain than walking.   In the fitness world "low impact" is code for "an exercise for people who don't really want to exercise very hard." 

Don't believe me?  Look at the people who use the elliptical - they are either already skinny due to their eating disorder or they're fat.  The fat people come in every night, ride the elliptical for an hour and never shed a single ounce.  Never have I seen a seriously fit person or athlete get on an elliptical machine to workout.  Treadmills, bikes and stair climbers - yes.  Elliptical - no.  Watch what fit people do - it's hard.  It's not "low impact" at all. 

Do people sweat while using the elliptical?  Yes.  However, it's likely that's how their body reacts to the embarrassment of partaking in such a silly activity in public.

The proof I needed  for theory about the elliptical machine came in the way of my already skinny wife morphing into Serena Williams just days after giving birth for the first time.  My wife ate like a mouse and piddled around on the elliptical for an hour each day reading women's magazines for years.  She never gained weight and never lost weight.  When she was pregnant she took up tennis on a whim.  Her instructor was easy on her when she was pregnant, but when that baby came - he dropped the hammer.  Four days a week he had my wife out on the court chasing tennis balls for 45 minutes.  It was amazing how quickly her body changed in reaction to a real workout.   The downside was her urge to grunt loudly at moments of exertion. 

My advice to you elliptical riders is simple - go for a run.  It doesn't matter how goofy you look jogging, it can't be worse than the silly jig that useless machine makes you do.  You'll lose weight and look better doing it.