My Brilliant Idea

Since the Nats are on track for a 40-win season, and the attendance reflects this, I have a brilliant idea to increase revenue. They should offer ticket packages for each NL team. I mean, the crowd at the Phillies game on Saturday was 2/3 Phillies, and I bet a lot of them would buy discounted tickets for all of the Phillies games in DC if sold in such a package. DC is such a transient town that I think there'd be buyers for every team.

And to those who balk at the idea of marketing to the competition, remember that the ticket revenue helps the Nats! Plus, the more people become familiar with the team, the more likely they'll cheer for them as their second favorite (OK, maybe not fans of the Phils, Mets, Braves, or Marlins). I don't see how this could fail.

BUT HOW DID SHE KNOW IT WAS ME?

Amanda and I find new ways to communicate:

20004: I'm sure the video team did a great job editing, but I second having written versions of the clues for those without the luxury of high-speed internet access, sound on our work computers, the patience to watch the videos, or a 3 hour car ride with Amanda on Friday.

washingtonpost.com: Moira, watch them and like them. Everyone else: there were a couple of chatters seconding the request for written versions. I'll consider putting up the script that we worked from, but I promise you, a written version isn't as much fun. You miss gems like the lady wondering if there is a ghost named Herbert.

Gene Weingarten: We need to write a book about a ghost named Herbert.

Police Ineptitude

I was driving over to a friend's house last night, when I noticed that there was something on my windshield. I pulled over to grab it, thinking I had gotten a ticket for missing street cleaning or something. No. It was a parking ticket for not having a parking permit displayed. The brilliant officer put the ticket on my windshield RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE MY PARKING PERMIT IS PROMINENTLY DISPLAYED. Moreover, the ticket has my tag number and state, but lists the car as a 3-door Subaru, when I drive a 5-door Pontiac.

How did this happen?

Either DC has started allowing illiterates in their parking enforcement corps; this man is a complete idiot; or he saw a 3-door Subaru the first time he drove through and then thought my car was the same one.

Now I have to go fight this ticket, all because of this man's inability to notice a sticker on my windshield. No other traffic cop has had this problem.

I can't wait to tell all the lawyers at work about this.

Our tax dollars at work!

The President and Founder of the Alabama chapter of the M Slash Fan Club brought something very important to my attention today: the CDC has e-cards!

Yes, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention has a selection of notes you can send to friends and family with encouraging messages. My favorites so far are this one (which goes nicely with this one), this one, because who the hell would you send that to?, and this one, because WTF?

Anyway, I can't believe someone thought this was a good idea. OK, maybe a few of the cards, but no one needs an e-card about syphilis.

IMPORTANT NEWS

After 2.5 years, MY CAR NO LONGER MAKES A HORRIBLE NOISE WHEN YOU OPEN THE DOOR! You should have seen me in the parking lot at Giant after I had picked my car up from the shop; I kept opening and closing the door with a look of awe on my face. I was not expecting this! I can now open the door ALL THE WAY without embarrassment. Greatest surprise ever.

Did I?

You know you play a lot of kickball when you wake up, wonder if you left your credit card at the bar, and think, "Eh, might as well leave it there for now."

I joked on Wednesday about starting one of those tabs that Norm had on Cheers.

Hmmph

You know you're a Latin Americanist when, out of all the cards on someecards.com, this is the one that offends you the most:


I'll be spending this Cinco de Mayo listening to Zoe, Cafe Tacuba, Moenia, and Molotov, among others. But not Mana. I hate Mana.

Old fogey

I partied with high schoolers this weekend! Not intentionally.
I went to a house party Friday night, and we started playing flip cup in the garage with the door open. A random guy came up and asked if he could bring some friends in (they were clearly looking for a party). Since he looked like he could be about 19-20, the hosts said yes, figuring he meant 4-5 people.

Then came the onslaught.

About 15 kids crashed the party, rolling in with cans of Schlitz and 40s of Miller High Life. They were a friendly group, one of them even offering to share his Schlitz with me when I had to refill my cup for the game (I glanced at it and said, "Ha, no. Pass me the Beast." - No one said we were classy). We knew they were younger than we first thought, but didn't know HOW young until I mentioned that I'd be turning 26 this month. One of the kids said to his friend, "Whoa, she's 10 years older than me."

Yes. I wish I had gotten a picture of the face of one of the residents after this statement. My shoulder hurt for hours after his death grip of panic. After some freaking out, we threw them out of the house, save for one poor kid left in the bathroom, for whom we made a human wall stretching from the bathroom door to the exit.

I'm so old high schoolers think I'm old! At least they know people in their mid-20s still party! Some of us, at least.