BEST "I'm from Wisconsin" EVER

Being a native Midwesterner (Hoosier to be exact), I often fall prey to stereotypes and find myself denying such fabrications....No, I did not live on a farm. Yes, I did wear shoes. Yes, we did have indoor plumbing.

Well, one of my friends, a fellow Midwesterner (Wisconsinite to be exact) has also been victim of such stereotyping when it applies specifically to his home state. Only, his actions do more than confirm the stereotypes.

Two specific examples stick out in my mind:

Awhile back, we were attending a Nationals game with the Wisconsinite, and shortly after arriving, he began to inspect the beer selection. When he spotted the Miller Genuine Draft vendor, he took in a deep breath of the MGD-saturated ballgame atmosphere and remarked, "Ahhhhh, the smell of my childhood."

Only in Wisconsin does the smell of an ice-cold MGD take you back to the age of 5.

In related news, Milwaukee was just named America's Drunkest City. DC was a distant 20th.

Then, this past Saturday, Kimmmm and I attended a friend of a friend of a friend's (the Wisconsinite) barbecue. When the burgers were ready, the following conversation took place between the hostess and the Wisconsinite:

Hostess: Who wants cheese on their burger?

the Wisconsinite: What kind of cheese?

Silence. You could hear crickets chirping.

the Wisconsinite: What? I'm from Wisconsin.

Only in Wisconsin do they take cheese so seriously that they inquire about the type of cheese on a cheeseburger before consuming it.

BEST I'm with The Blogger Moment EVER

As noted previously, Best Summer Evah is now an award winning blog… or if you want to be technical…. a prize winning blog. That's right, through her kickass post, Emmmm won tickets to go see Tea Leaf Green and Bruce Hornsby and the Noisemakers.

So, Mike from Wolftrap Live was contacted and arrangements were made to pick up the tickets at the will call window by the Wolftrap gate. We roll up to Wolftrap, and immediately go to the wrong window to pick up the tickets. After being pointed to the correct window, Emmmm approaches and states her last name.

They don't have her tickets.

She is asked for a confirmation number.

She doesn't have one. She's the blog contest winner.

Immediately, a hush goes through the ticket booth… it's the blog winner…what should we do? Where do we send her? She wrote about us..as the line behind us grows. Eventually we are pointed to the press office, which is in a restricted area. Completely disregarding the signs that state "authorized personnel only", Emmmm and I barge into the press office and meet Mike, one of the Wolftrap Live bloggers.

As Emmmm is introduced to other staff in the office I realize something. My roommate has turned from Emmmm to Emmmm, The Blogger.

Mike hands her the tickets in an envelope marked "Blogger" and yet again congratulates Emmmm, The Blogger on her award winning post. From the press office, we head directly towards the stage… a route which does not take us through the main gate. We are stopped by a security guard who asks us for identification.

Emmmm states she is The Blogger.

Her name is confirmed on a list. She is The Blogger. Again, she is congratulated.

Anyway, long story short, the seats that Emmmm had won were absolutely amazing - about 20 rows back and in the center and the show was really cool as well. Sometimes it's good to be The Blogger.

BEST Award Winning Post EVER

So, Emmmm's previous post scored us some tickets to Wolftrap this evening.... check it out.

Does this put Em and myself one step closer to quitting our jobs for the man and becoming professional bloggers??

If only there were "Blog for Food", "Blog for Rent" and "Blog of Clothes" contests....

BEST Jam EVER

And I'm not talking about Smuckers.

This evening, we plan to cross another Best Summer Ever To-Do off the list by heading out to WolfTrap to see Tea Leaf Green (opener) and Bruce Hornsby and the Noisemakers (headliner). In doing so, we'll combine three of our favorite things: music, the outdoors, and wine. Besides, it gives us an excuse to leave work at a reasonable time to make it out there.

Generally when you go to see a concert, you go for the Headliner. Not this time. The primary reason we want to attend tonight's concert is to see Tea Leaf Green, an awesome San Fran jam band. Music aside, how could you not like a band with that name? I like tea. I like leaves. And green is easily my favorite color. Oh, and as for the music, if you haven't heard them before, they're a mighty stellar jam band. And the chill WolfTrap ambiance is perfect for their sound.

Don't get me wrong. Bruce Hornsby, who was a part-time member of the Grateful Dead in the early 90s, is sure to be nothing short of spectacular. Which means I'll do everything in my power to refrain from yelling my standard, "Play Casey Jones, play Casey Jones."



Looks like rain is in the forecast, but if the meteorologists are as accurate as they generally tend to be, we'll be seeing sunny skies.

Happy jammin'!

BEST Cure for Chair Sores EVER

We regret to inform you that the Man started to get us down last week. How do we know this? Because we have self-diagnosed chair sores. It is similar to a case of bed sores, only it is developed from constant uninterrupted sitting in an office chair versus that of a bed.

Fortunately, there's an easy remedy to this ailment:
As Olivia Newton John so eloquently put it, "Let's get physical."

And that's exactly what we did. Last Saturday morning, we got up bright and early to hike Great Falls. Well, maybe not bright, but it was hazy and definitely early enough to avoid the crowds and afternoon heat. We sped through the Billy Goat trail and finally regained feeling in our legs after a week of sitting. It's good to walk again.

We did, however, set aside a few minutes for some pics. Here are some photos of our return to nature (though hazy and cloudy, it was still beautiful to take in the peaceful view):

BEST Two Conversations from last Friday Night EVER

A bit of background… Best Summer Evah went to Iota in Arlington to check out a band (Trachenburg Family Slideshow Players) and then afterwards to Four Courts to have a few cocktails and listen to some live music. As is often the case when Best Summer Evah hits the town, we ended up making some new friends.....

Emily: "Guess my name."
Dude: "Kathryn"
Emily: "No"
Dude: "Kimberly"
Emily: "No, but CLOSE!!"

(later on the way home)

Kim: "What does he do?"
Emily: "Guess. It involves flying to Fort Wayne every Christmas"
Kim: "He's SANTA!?!?!"

BEST Slideshow EVER

How many times have you found yourself in this situation:

You: Welcome back from your trip! Did you have a good time?

Family or friend: The best. You'll have to come over and see the pictures. I must've taken a million of them.

Nooooooooooooooooooooo.

And it's even more common to come across that scenario now that everybody has a digital camera, which seems to justify the need to take 28 pictures of the exact same thing.

Well, on Saturday night we discovered the key ingredient to enjoying a lengthy slide show: Original songs that narrate it. Kimmmm, Vijaya, and I headed on over to Iota to take in the Tractenburg Family Singing and Slideshow Projector players. I will never figure out how they came up with the name of their band, but they are a family that sings and plays a slideshow projector.

As the first unsigned act to play on Late Night with Conan O'Brien, the Tractenburg family is a trio consisting of the father on keys/guitar/lead vocals, the mother in charge of the slide projector and costume design, and the preteen daughter on drums. They derive their song topics from vintage slides that they find at flea markets, garage sales, etc. Then, they play simple, arty music and tell rambling stories while slides click behind them.

As if we needed more original performers that evening, the opening act featured a very funny accordion player, Corn Mo, who resembled Meat Loaf in appearance and played original songs with obvious Queen influences.

So, if you get the chance to catch these performers, you should check them out. After all, how often do you get to see a live performance that includes an accordion, a slideshow projector, and a preteen on drums?

BEST The Moment When It All Came Together EVER

So, Emmmm and I were walking over to Georgetown to see the movie Little Miss Sunshine. As we neared the key bridge (Rosslyn side) this elderly gentleman comes roaring up where the Custis bike path and Key Bridge intersect…. On a segway.

At this point, Emmmm and I collapse into laughter. Em turns to me and says, "Do you have your camera with you?" to which I reply, "No… wait! My phone!" After the colossal rummaging exercise (the Razr is so sleek and thin it's often confused with my business card case), I find my phone and snap it open, cursing the fact that I had ever doubted the wisdom of Verizon in combining these two devices.

Anyway, we didn't end up capturing the Segway using my phone, by the time I had located my phone and opened up the camera, he had left us in his 12.5 mph dust.

It's good to laugh again.

BEST Little Miss Sunshine EVER

Last night myself, Em, and another friend went to see a movie. Those of you who know me well know that I am a HUGE movie fan, and therefore at this point you probably are not picking yourself up off the floor, sitting back down in your chair, or shaking your head incredulously and muttering to yourself, "Kim?? Watched a movie?? In a theater?!?"

Yes, I did. We saw "Little Miss Sunshine" which is movie about a family where everything goes wrong for every single one of the characters, making them all "Little Miss Sunshine's" in their own way. There is also a beauty pageant by this name, but that is not what the movie is about at all. Nothing goes the way it should, and the movie becomes a huge comedy of errors. I was literally laughing so hard I was crying through most of it.

Described as, "LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE is an American family road comedy that shatters the mold. Brazenly satirical and yet deeply human, the film introduces audiences to one of the most endearingly fractured families in recent cinema history: the Hoovers, whose trip to a pre-pubescent beauty pageant results not only in comic mayhem but in death, transformation and a moving look at the surprising rewards of being losers in a winning-crazed culture. A runaway hit at the Sundance Film Festival, where it played to standing ovations, the film strikes a nerve with everyone who's ever been awestruck by how their muddled families seem to make it after all."

I try not to be too preachy on the blog, but I’m just going to have to come out and say it. You have to go see this movie... now. Get going!

BEST College Throwback Weekend EVER

Having recently reached the "it's been three years since I finished college and started working in DC" milestone, it was time for a College Throwback Weekend. And what better way to do that than a spontaneous trip to the Windy City?



Chicago is the obvious choice for me to partake in a College Throwback Weekend in the summer for several reasons:

The wind is actually welcomed when it is sunny & 80-degrees (versus the 30-below endured during a Chicago winter).

No one talks about what is happening on the Hill, unless they are commenting on the recently-named-to-the-50-Most-Beautiful-on-the-Hill Senator Barack Obama.

But above all, the reason it's a great college throwback location is that I went to a college where 99.9999% of the student body ends up in Chicago. Namely, my two best friends: Merkel and Ece.

Considering it was a rather spontaneous trip, it was a pleasant surprise to find out that Mike & Joe, an acoustic duo that has become one of the signature cover bands to play at IU, planned to perform at Cubby Bear on Saturday night. Mike & Joe both graduated from IU and started performing throughout the Midwest even before I started college. Which probably means they are somewhere in their mid-30s. That does not seem like a stretch for me, but then I start to think that they are often catering to an audience much younger than me. Like 18-year-old college girls that are using fake IDs to rock out to the latest Jack Johnson hit.

Now, perhaps my memory of a night with Mike & Joe is not as vivid as I would like to have thought, but things seemed to have changed since the last time I saw them:

• In Chicago, the cover charge to see the cover band was $8. In college we paid $3 at the Bluebird, which also covered the entrance fee for quarter-beer night. I suppose I need to factor in the cost of living of Bloomington, IN versus Chicago and three years of inflation, but still.

• M&J seem to have recreated a songlist that features electric guitars versus the acoustic songlist we grew to love. On Saturday, they played the latest from Green Day, the Killers, Gorillaz, Coldplay, and Maroon 5 (despite my unfufilled request to "Play Casey Jones! Play Casey Jones!"). When I commented on how they changed from the acoustic guitar-based playlist consisting of Rusted Root, Dave Matthews, Pearl Jam, Jack Johnson, and OAR, I was reminded that those were the popular artists when we were in school. M&J hadn't changed. Three years had passed. Right, right. Thanks for the reminder.

• When drunken idiots dropped their sophisticated drinks at Cubby Bear, the glass shattered, leaving my sandaled feet soaked in beer and shattered glass. In college, the classy plastic cups left my feet sticky, but never gouged and bleeding.
  

To hell with the things that had changed. We had no problem dancing to the beat of a different drum. Literally. They expanded M&J to M & J & another guy on bass & another guy on drums. We hadn't changed that much (or had we?). In fact, there were also a few things to take note of to prove that no matter how many years pass by, there are always a few things that remain constant:

• We still were hit on by strange men ("Can you just hold my drink, I'll be right back...And if you want to take a sip, go for it." Okay, Mr. Roofie Rooferson.)

• We still have the hots for Mike of M&J (poor Joe).

• We still take pictures like it's socially acceptable to pose for a camera in overcrowded bars.

• We still woke up the next day with hoarse voices, blurry eyes, and smoke-infused hair.
  

To Merkel and Ece-- Thanks for showing me another wonderful time in your city. You truly are the best hosts! I cannot wait to return the favor when you make it back out the Nation's Cap! Much love!

BEST Walking is Overrated EVER

It's official. No matter how obese our country gets, we continue to reinvent the wheel (pun intended) to promote laziness.

Case and point: Segway x2

This morning, the Express informed me that Segway was unveiling a new rugged x2 model ($5,495): With its thick tires suitable for grass, gravel, sand or dirt, adventure travelers bored with lacing up hiking boots can let this personal transporter do the work. By merely leaning left, right or forward, they'll zoom to 12.5 mph.

For the sake of comic relief during a hectic morning, I ventured on over to the Segway website to take a closer look. The website does not disappoint. The homepage/advertisement showcases different people in a variety of natural settings believed appropriate to ride a Segway (The captions alone were worth the visit to the site. Hysterical.):

• Caption 1: Simply moving. One woman decked out in business attire (accessorized by a helmet) zooms along what appears to be an office corridor in her Segway. Simply moving? Opposed to what? Walking down the corridor at work?

• Caption 2: Mobility evolved. Only shown from the waist down, a man also decked out in business attire zooms along a hallway. I'm not sure where these people work, but some company out there appears to have an abundance of long, empty hallways just begging to employ Segway owners. I liked learning that mobility has evolved-- it is about time we got past this Neanderthal chore of placing one foot in front of another.

• Caption 3: Minimalist design, Multitude of uses. Finally the site unveils the eagerly anticipated Segway x2...by a man decked out in park ranger gear (accessorized by a nametag, badge, and helmet). It really does live up to its multitude of uses as the "ranger" appears to off-road through the woods despite the fact that an obvious walking path is right next to him. I wonder if a bear can reach 12.5 mph.

And to think Kimmmm and I were just talking about going hiking this weekend. So help me, if we're walking along the hiking path at Great Falls and I hear a Segway-rider shout, "Lefffttt..," that Segway-rider may end up with a great fall of his own. I'm just saying...

BEST Code Orange Flight EVER

Last Thursday, as I woke up, my head was clouded, my eyes were bleary, and I was trying to calculate just how little sleep I had gotten (my estimate is about 3 hours - don't you judge me for my Wednesday night social activities). I turned on the television, and the newscasters voice cut through all of the haze by saying, "and all airports are on code orange. There is an elevated risk to flying today". The report went on to detail how the absolute worst airport to fly out of in the US was BWI. The lines at BWI were horrible, the people at BWI were horrible, the water bottles at BWI were horrible, the delays at BWI were horrible, well you get the idea…. The general consensus was that flying out of BWI on Thursday was Not A Good Idea.

Which of course is exactly what I was doing... Hungover.

Yes, Thursday was the day that I was making my summer flight home to Buffalo to visit the family. Thursday is also the day that ordinary freedom loving Americans were having their bags emptied out and criminalized for possessing such items as chapstick, contact lens solution, hair products and other assorted liquids and gels.

After spending the day listening to the news reports of just how horrible of a place BWI was that day and having various family members play air traffic control as they watched the news reports, I decided that I would check my bag (for a four day trip) and cash in on my fifteen minutes of fame by starring on CNN as "irate traveller number 3".

When work was as done as it was going to be for the day, I drove up to BWI. On the parking lot bus, I applied a little bit of powder and lipstick (heaven forbid I be on national news looking like I felt) and mentally rehearsed what I was going to say, "It's a shame that we cannot bring simple things like liquid and gels on flights anymore" and "When Bill Hemmer worked at CNN was he as hot in real life as he appeared to be on television?"

Anyway, despite all of my preparation, it turns out that the cluster that allegedly was BWI was a bit overhyped, which is something that the media has never been known to do. I would estimate that the entire flight checking in, bag checking, and security process took approximately one half hour, which isn't bad considering that this was supposed to the golden standard of delayed airports.

All of my worry about the annoyance of security made me forget to be annoyed at the airline that I was flying. It was southwest airlines, which is an airline that in my humble opinion brings out the very worst in human nature. With their quirky "open seating" policy Southwest has unwittingly inflicted many a case study on strung out business students. While "open seating" works from a business perspective, the price is at a severe human cost. Instead of just vegging and trying to forget that you are in the worst airport on the worst day of the year, people were anxiously sitting in rows near the designated "A", "B", and "C" areas. Some people went as far as to line up in the areas, sleeping on the floor and generally looking miserable. As soon as the friendly Southwest representative touched the microphone to pick it up to begin to announce boarding, the people began clamouring like desperate animals to be the very first on the plane and get the very best seat which was highly necessary for the flight which was a whole 40 minutes. There were elbows flying, curse words uttered, fists thrown, mace sprayed, etc.

As I stood back, popping another aspirin (which was not washed down with any liquids or gels), and trying to figure out if I was an "A", "B" or "C", I surveyed the scene in front of me and realized that all that a Code Orange Day meant was that there were less security personnel around to regulate the Southwest customers.

BEST Excuse for a Cancelled Flight EVER

*Please note that this was written in haste by a very tired and cranky customer awaiting a very very very early flight.

Like any other flight I've taken to Chicago in recent history, my return flight had complications. This was not just any flight. This was a 6 AM flight on Monday morning at O'Hare. Which means I had to rise before the rooster at 3:30 to haul ass to the code orange terror alert airport. All of this effort would get me to work shortly after 9, ready for a crunch week.

When I arrived at O'Hare and began checking-in via kiosk, the little screen informed me that my itinerary had changed. This was the roundabout way of telling me my early-as-!@#$ flight had been cancelled. Though they fly out every hour, the little man inside the check-in kiosk that controls the fate of unsuspecting customers could not guarantee me a seat until the 9 AM flight, but put me on standby for the 7 and 8. You can imagine my excitement to find that I was standing at a kiosk at 4:30 about to get into a ridiculous code orange security line for a flight that would depart in about five hours.

After I arrived at the gate for the 7 AM flight (the first of about 18 gate changes that eventually follow) to inquire about the standby list, I was directed to the customer service counter. When I entered that line, one of the "helpers" informed me that there was neither a printer nor paper at this counter if I needed any help with a new ticket. She went on to tell me that if I needed help with a ticket, I would have to go to the lobby. I said, "By lobby, do you mean the insane ticket counter out there?" That's exactly what she meant. Hmmm, that's interesting. My impression of being called a customer service desk was that you in fact serve the customer. So I tell her it was okay, I just want to see if I was priority on a standby list since my 6 AM flight was cancelled. To be honest, I really didn't have anything I needed help with if they couldn't put my 6 AM flight into the air, but I was annoyed and cranky from my three hours of sleep.

When I reached the counter, I was greeted by your standard airline customer service representative that appeared to be in her mid-50s but was probably in her mid-30s as I am sure her job adds a good 2 years onto her appearance each day. Our ever-frustrating conversation went something like this:

Me: My 6 am flight was cancelled.

My new arch-nemesis: Okaaa---.

Me: What are the chances I can get on the 7 AM flight?

My new arch-nemesis: Let's see. You're guaranteed a seat on the 9 AM flight.

Me: Yes, I know. What are the chances I can get on an earlier flight?

My new arch-nemesis: You have a guaran---

Me: What. Are. The. Chances. I. Can. Get. On. An. Earlier. Flight?

My new arch-nemesis: Everything is oversold, so probably not good. You have a seat on the 9 AM flight.

Me: Sigh. Do you know why my 6 am flight was cancelled?

My new arch-nemesis: Mechanical problems. They can't take off with mechanical problems.

Me: Yes, I know. I've heard it all by now. I'm just frustrated because I really needed to get to work and this is really messing up my day.

My new arch-nemesis: (smirking and nodding) It's Monday morning at O'Hare.

Sooooo?

My new arch-nemesis: Yep, sorry. These things happen on Mondays.

What does? Mechanical problems? Cancelled flights? Oversold situations? What exactly is it about a Monday that makes an airline different than any other day of the week? So, you're telling me that every six days you prepare yourself for a trillion unhappy customers because it's another Monday morning? Anyhow....

Me: (not understanding her illogical statement) Right, right. My flight was cancelled a couple months ago from O'Hare and that was a Sunday night.

My new arch-nemesis: Yep, that's what happens.

Let me guess, it was because "it was a Sunday night at O'Hare?"

Defeated, I hang my head and drag my carry-on luggage away from the counter back to one of the gates already crowded with standby passengers. As I take my seat to await my flight that was to depart in another four hours, I curl up in the fetal position and crank up my iPod in an effort to deal with the fact that it's Monday morning at O'Hare.

Let this be a lesson to all of you unsuspecting victims that may someday want to depart out of O'Hare on a Monday morning. The fact that it's the first day of the workweek in Chicago apparently is reason enough for you to change your itinerary (or they'll do it for you).

BEST Legg EVER

Last Thursday, Suz invited me to the Legg Mason Tennis Classic.

Due to the early elimination of Agassi and an injured Roddick, I wondered who was left to watch. Marat Safin and James Blake, that's who. They ended up going head-to-head on Thursday night, and I was there to witness what was probably the best match of the tournament.


Safin v. Blake

Now, there are a few things that really get Suz excited: anything related to Maryland, Spain, Brazilians. And tennis, especially Marat Safin playing tennis. Keeping in mind that an American was playing, I rooted for Blake while Suz cheered for Safin. To my dismay, Safin advanced to the next match.

Despite a 2-hour rain delay causing a 7pm match to end at 11pm, we had a great time checking out the tennis studs, especially when we sat within 10 yards of them. I'm learning that a tennis tournament is a great place to go if you're interested in watching some foreign men (with the exception of Blake) hit around a bouncy yellow ball for a few hours.

BEST One Hour in a Verizon Store EVER

I left my phone charger in Albuquerque. For the normal person, this might not have been a problem, but the phone I had is a very special one. Apparently, when Verizon made it, they only made approximately 50 of them and then immediately broke the mold for both the phone and charger so that it could never be reproduced or mass marketed to anyone else. After a series of increasingly desperate messages left with the hotel housekeeping and slowly watching my phone fade down to it's last bar, it was time to take action. I was going to go to the Verizon store and get a charge or charger, come hell or high water. This is America! I need to be in touch!

Which is how I found myself waiting to speak to a sales representative on Monday afternoon. I first tried the service counter, where the twenty something (Let's call him "Skip" - he was one of those perky annoying people who seem like they should be named Skip) behind the counter acted as if though my phone was a rare archaeological discovery. "Whooooaaa… I haven't seen one of these before!" as he gingerly held it up to examine it. He then proceeded to confirm that there was no way for me to get a charge - the store didn't sell chargers like that anymore, and they certainly wouldn't keep such a relic laying around. Then, to prove just how ancient my phone was, Skip proceeded to call the Verizon warehouse and confirm that they also did not have any way to charge my phone. Here's how that went:

Me: Skip, let's stop all of this before the warehouse. You don't need to call them.
Skip: Oh, I know, I just want to see if they even carry stuff for phones this old.

After confirming that I am a complete and utter loser for having a phone that was bought (gasp) two years ago, I was put on the list of people waiting to speak to a sales representative and told to wait. I used my waiting time by wandering around the store, and picked out a phone that appeared to be mass produced.

I went back to service desk and Skip and said "Is there anyway I can skip speaking to a sales rep and just buy a phone?". He looked at me with his big eyes and dopey smile and said, "How will we help you pick out the perfect phone then?" Needless to say, there was no reasoning with Skip and his infallible customer service logic.

So, I waited forty #@(%&'ing minutes before I was helpfully helped by another customer service representative just like my buddy Skip.

I'm pretty sure that the glint of crazy in my eye dissuaded him from attempting to up-sell me on any of the stupid extras that they offer… after forty minutes of wasted time in the middle of a hectic Monday afternoon, I was ready to rip the cell phone off the belt of any toolbag that so much as mentioned the words "Bluetooth".

Anyway, with my $100 credit for having such an ancient phone, and the $50 rebate, I find myself owning a Razr free and clear. It has a camera. I asked the sales representative if there was any way to get a phone without a camera and he looked at me like I was from a different planet and said, "Why wouldn't you want a camera?" I'm pretty sure it would have totally blown his mind to know that I already have a camera that wasn't attached to a telephone and sort of like the idea of having separate devices for making phone calls and taking pictures.

The Razr is entirely too cool of a phone for someone like me to own (and as Emmmmm pointed out, "It's also way flatter than you"). The Razr is a phone that is too cool to have more than one vowel in it's name, the Razr is the type of phone that should be owned by people named Kym who go to swanky bars and do swanky things and smoke with cigarette holders and say things like, "My Razr phone and I summer in Instanbul".

Call me!

BEST Pretty Woman Moment EVER

I've been around the singles' scene long enough to experience the evolution of "See you in class" to "What's your number?" to "Here's my business card" (so you're saying you're employed…) to "I'm going to MySpace you" (code for "stalk ya later"). But never in a million years could I predict the action that took place on Friday night.

I was out with my girlfriends and I was sitting next to a nice young chap at the bar. I was casually chatting with him until my girlfriends and I decided to head home. He opened his wallet to produce what I would assume to be a business card. But instead, he pulled out a checkbook.

WHAAAA????

He said his phone number was on his checks (yes, along with your name, home address, bank routing number). And rather than tear off the upper left-hand portion that contains only the contact information, he proceeded to tear out the entire blank check for me.

Again, WHAAAA???? Am I being PUNK'd? Ashton, come on out of there!

First of all, does anyone still carry around a checkbook? Second of all, we both had cell phones, so I think it would have sufficed to just shout out the digits.

So to those of you that nicknamed me "Digits" in the past, I think it's high time you started calling me "Blank Check."

BEST Holiday EVER

Let me preface this by saying I do not like to shop. Never have, never will. However, in spite of my aversion to the act of shopping, I felt it was my civic duty to partake in Virginia's very first Tax Free Holiday. You know, helping the economy and all.

This past weekend, stores all across the Commonwealth sold clothing (less than $100) and school supplies (less than $20) free of sales tax. I decided to play it safe and just stick around Clarendon rather than risk the utter chaos that is mall shopping in the DC metro area.

I started browsing the Apple Store, but quickly concluded that a new iMac does not qualify as an article of clothing. And while it could be considered a school supply, it is certainly not under $20, so I journeyed on. I scanned the new Fall lines and end-of-Summer sales of South Moon Under and Free People, all the while realizing that I simply to do not need a single article of clothing, much less a very expensive designer article of clothing. At this point, I became concerned that the holiday would pass me by without ever having the chance to celebrate it.

Alas, I decided to make one final stop in one of my favorite (though not always affordable) boutiques, All About Jane. I scanned its end-of-Summer sale to avoid buying a $500 article of clothing I simply did not need. And within a few minutes, I was at the cash register with a lavender dress and a tan boho skirt. After all, I could justify my impulsive summer purchases in that the typical DC summer lasts well into October, right? Yep, I am SUCH a sucker for marketing.

In the end, I figure I kept a good $8, maybe $9 from entering Uncle Sam's deep pockets. And judging from my graduate student loan interest rate* that just doubled overnight, I will do everything in my power to stick it to Uncle Sam. He and I are in such a giant fight right now!

Well, in case you missed the first Tax-Free VA Holiday, you can still enjoy Tax-Free DC through August 13th. Happy shopping!

*If anyone knows of a loan with a good interest rate, I'm all ears!

BEST 1,045 Square Miles EVER

At the risk of transforming our BEST Summer EVER blog into the BEST Summer Weddings EVER as this will mark our third summer wedding post, here goes:

I attended another wedding this past weekend, which involved heading up to Rhode Island to celebrate the marriage of my friends, Caroline and Michael. I arrived on Friday morning, and since the wedding took place on Saturday, I had ample time to explore our country's smallest state.

Up until last weekend, I only knew a couple things about Rhode Island: (1) it is the smallest state in the US and referred to as "the Ocean State," and (2) it is the birthplace of everybody's favorite personified vegetable, Mr. Potatohead. After this weekend, that list grew to the size of, well, Rhode Island.

Here are a few of my observations on...

• Stretching the truth. While it boasts a somewhat respectable size of 1,545 square miles, about one-third of it is the Narragansett Bay. That's right mathematicians, the actual land mass of Rhode Island is about a thousand square miles.

• Comparison to DC. Rhode Island is 48 miles north to south and 37 miles east to west, which is less than some of my commutes for work. To put it in perspective for the DC commuter, that translates into driving from Tyson's Corner to Baltimore (distance north to south) or driving from Washington DC to Baltimore (distance east to west).

• Another checkmark on "1000 Places to See Before You Die." You can obviously see the entire state in a single day. And we did.

• Everybody loves a parade. The wedding took place in Bristol, Rhode Island. Since 1785, Bristol has the longest running, unbroken series of 4th of July Independence Day observances in the country. That's a fancy way of saying "Bristol has a parade."

• The US has 50 states. Bristol has been nicknamed "America's Most Patriotic Town." Every single home proudly dons at least eight flags in the front. Of course, judging from the flags I saw, it seems that most of the state ignores the fact that 37 other states joined the union after the original colonies.

• Feels like home. In case you thought it was impossible, more people pop their collars in Newport than Georgetown.

• Repeat after me: The Rain in Spain Stays Mainly in the Plain. Rhode Island reduced the existing English alphabet to 25 letters as such: …PQRS UVW… Not once did I hear a native Rhode Islander pronounce the letter "T" in words that include the letter "T." (kitten is "ki-hin") You can imagine the language barrier for me, a girl that over-enunciates the letter "T." (kitten is "kiT-Tin")

• Homer Simpson's utopia. Dunkin' Donuts is the Starbucks of Rhode Island. As the home of the first Dunkin' Donuts, the state now contains well over a hundred stores within its small borders. They are literally on every street corner. And ironically, nobody goes there for the donut.

• Now, that's a fetish I haven't seen before. Not to pass judgment on interior design, but there is such a thing as too many stuffed animals. And there is certainly a time and place to showcase said stuffed animals. An infant's bedroom, the pediatric wing of a hospital, and the Valentine's section of Hallmark are all appropriate places to have an insane number of stuffed animals. A Bed & Breakfast, however, is not the place. While comfortable and accommodating, our B&B was detailed from ceiling to floor with stuffed teddies and bunny rabbits! Meanwhile, the owners seemed so normal. That is, if you consider having a sick stuffed animal fetish normal.

• Aphrodisiacs. The wedding included a raw bar of clams and oysters during the happy hour, and I decided to try out a few Rhode Island specialties. It's a well-known fact that eating oysters serves as an aphrodisiac. However, I'm wondering if there is any other reason to eat them. I was told to just open my mouth and pour the oyster down my throat. This is bizarre. There's no chewing, hardly any tasting, it cannot possible be healthy due to the salty aftertaste. So, please, if you know any reason to eat oysters other than the obvious chemical reaction, bestow your wisdom upon me.

Well, that pretty much sums up Rhode Island. The wedding, by the way, was absolutely beautiful. The reception took place outdoors at a mansion on the water. It included spectacular food (and lots of it), great company, a rockin' eight-member band, and a gorgeous view of the water. It was a very classy affair.

In my personal opinion, one the highlights was when the band took a break and Caroline popped in a CD she had prepared. The first song that came on was "Hang on Sloopy," the official rock song of Ohio (which Michael's father supported and helped pass into legislation). Since half of the guests (Michael's side) were from Ohio and/or Ohio State fans (including me), we flailed our arms overhead on the dance floor to "Haannnggg on Sloopy, Sloopy hang on... O…H…I…O!" This is so much better than the YMCA. Go Bucks!

Congratulations Caroline and Michael! Best of luck in Columbus!

BEST Day 1 EVER

Work has taken me to Albuquerque, NM. Having never been to NM, I decided that I would fly out on Saturday morning and spend a day and a half touring the city before the work started. As it is a secret ambition to be a travel writer (what's cooler than going places and writing about it), I'm going to give my day and a half review of Albuquerque….

Day 1:
Old Town - This is an old timely shopping district that everyone raves as a "must see". While it is cute and charming, it's not terribly exciting - it’s the same sort of old timey quaintness you find anywhere -one may even go as far as to say, it's the Marietta, OH of the southwest. The stores are brimming with southwest tourist crap - hand made pottery, hand made blankets, hand made figurines, hand made jewels, hand made turquoise, hand made pots, hand made pans, hand made baskets all hand made by Indians (and yes it's New Mexico - you are allowed to say "Indian") The highlight was my purchase of a pomegranate blueberry smoothie (handmade by a surly 16 year old at a coffee shop), which in addition to being chock full of antioxidants, was delicious accompaniment to looking at all of the handmade items piled on top of handmade items marked "handmade by Indians" crammed into each store.

The Atomic Bomb Museum - Ever wanted to spend an afternoon with deactivated nuclear warheads? The atomic bomb museum is the place for you! Features include a full size replicas of "Little Brother" and "Fat Man" the two nuclear bombs that were dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima at the end of World War II and several other nuclear warheads which were made, but never used. I have to warn you however, the museum is a little bit less that professional the museums of DC (one display was made entirely of legos). However, the information and background from the discovery of radium to the formulation of the nuclear bomb was really interesting, considering what a scary time the 1940's through the Cold War was as all of this technology was developed in complete secrecy and nations were engaging in arms races. It also made me think about how much leftover radiation I was exposing myself to, as the first nuclear bomb ever (it was a test) occurred in Los Alamos, which was about an hour and a half away.

Drive down Route 66 - Maybe I read too much Stienbeck as a kid, or maybe the romance of the idea of packing everything into your car and hitting the open road enchants me, so I said a little prayer of forgiveness to Al Gore and Mother Nature, and I took a long drive down Route 66 as night was falling. Parts of Route 66 have been completely gentrified, but in main other areas it remains a bevy of neon lights and roadside attractions that must of enchanted travellers as they pulled into town - landmarks that greeted the easterners such as the Kimo Theatre, Lindy's Coffee House, and the Standard Diner still remain with their neon lights burning brightly into the night. I got that old timey feeling, but in a good way, rather than a handmade souvenirs piled everywhere way.

So as day one drew to a close, I couldn't help think about what day 2 would hold in store for me…

BEST Spring Alibi EVER

I think it's safe to say we went on a fringe binge last week. So to follow in suit with Phillip, it is time we bid adieu to the Capital Fringe Festival and mark this as our final Fringe post until it returns in 2007.

As you know, we saw May 39th on Thursday night. But on Wednesday night, Kimmmm, Vijaya, and I took in our very first Fringe performance, entitled "Spring Alibi." We decided on Spring Alibi because (1) the title was intriguing, (2) it had great reviews from the Edmonton Fringe Festival, and (3) it took place in Canada (where Kimmmm think she's from).

Actually, we decided on it because it began at 8:00.

From the brief description we read on the poster, we knew it was a romantic comedy that took place in Canada. And the title itself allowed us to to dream up all sorts of potential plots.

As we took our seats at the Canadian Embassy and began leafing through the Playbills, we should have taken the Warning on the front page more seriously: Sexual content, Mature language. Our minds wandered feverishly in an attempt to decipher the plot before the show began. But no amount of mind wandering could ever prepare us for the alibi that was revealed once the curtains went up.

The play centers around two recent divorcees trying to start anew in Canada. They cross paths and begin to fall for one another. However, the premise of the play is not that they fall for one another, it's how and where they fall for one another. Rather than give away the entire alibi, let's just say the it involved "becoming the master of one's domain." Truth be told, we severely underestimated the Fringe capacity for sexual content and mature language.

The play had the crowd laughing at all the right times and it truly was a great Fringe first (on so many levels). Yes, perhaps we were a little surprised when we learned what the "alibi" entailed, but the comedic timing of the two performers was spectacular. That and the fact that we found such enjoyment in the intentional Canadian stereotypes. When the main male and female characters have an official first date, the male "dresses up" by changing out of the sweats he's worn for the entire performance into more formal attire: a hockey jersey and jeans.

The Playbill was also a useful tool because the writer included a few translations to help the English audience avoid any trouble with the Canadian language barrier. Here are a few of my favorites:

• Eh: Used as a pause in conversation; an invitation to express your agreement.
• Half-Sack: A six-pack of beer
• Ontario: Like New York State with colored money. (Or according to Kimmmm, "home sweet home")
• Pull the goalie: Strategy in a close hockey game. Or, um, something else. (Note the latter of the two definitions was used in this particular play).
• Saskatchewan: Like Kansas, but flat.
  

It's been fun getting to know you, Fringe. See ya next year!