Dick Dastardly

Baseball is a fantastic sport. I am so excited for the Red Sox and the postseason. Pardon me, I am wicked excited. Wicked. I'm gonna throw the ball wicked hahd.

At school this is kind of the week of impending doom. Through some confusion I didn't hand in my outline for Memo 2 on time. But it's ungraded and my professor understands, so it's ok. But that's not a great start to the memo. Now I'm trying to get ahead on the memo this weekend so that I can study for my Torts midterm all week next week. And by all week I mean in addition to our regular classwork. No big deal, right? Ahhh. That's why impending doom. But I can't be too worried about the midterm, particularly when my professor names a character in the situation presented "Dick Dastardly." At least he did that in last year's midterm, of which we have a copy, but of course I have not looked at yet. We'll get to that in good time. A week is enough to study for a 1 hour test, right? Well it'd better be.

Yesterday I was planning on working on Memo 2 after classes, but I planned to meet up for a drink with my godfather's daughter's ex-boyfriend. No joke-that's the connection. His name is Sam. Actually, one of his paintings is in the hall of my house. He's a good deal older than me, I think he helped babysit me when I was like 9, but no matter. Now we are both of legal drinking age and met up during happy hour, which makes any social situation more likely to be a success. And a success it was (not because I was drunk, I wasn't). We talked for a while and then a friend of his from the Peace Corps came, who was cool too. Yeah, Sam did Peace Corps in Turkmenistan. That's a real place I'm told. Apparently it is home to a brutal totalitarian dictatorship. Sweet. Sam's been in DC for 3 months working as a journalist covering nuclear energy policy, in which he has no particular background. But he likes his job and he has a job, so good for him. We talked about shoes and ships and ceiling wax and cabbages and kings. And other things which are more relevant. Sam's a cool guy whose done a lot of stuff, and, very importantly, he's not a law school student or lawyer, so it was a good time for me. Also it was at the Big Hunt which is the most normal bar in Dupont Circle. Because it is Dupont it is clearly not a dive bar, but at least it tries to be. You can't really be a dive bar when everyone (except me) is wearing a collared shirt. But at least they don't put up trendy photos or make everything leather or new-age in some way. Overall I'm a fan.

It actually makes me miss hipsters. I'm not a hipster, but sometimes I like having them around. I'm sympathetic to their attitude. And I like watching them be too cool for everyone else. Also messenger bags.

Right, hanging out with Sam. Basically we had a couple beers, ate some burgers (half price burger night!), and did normal, non-stressy things. I hope to do it again some time. Also, we sat on the patio where Sam and his friend (damn, wish I remembered his name...he's Brazilian and not Thiago?) pretty much chain smoked the entire time. For the first hour after I left all I could smell was smoke, and I was convinced I smelled like a pack of Marlboros. I made Anat smell me and then smell my coat, but amazingly there was not a trace of smoke on me. Crazy. Maybe cigarettes really are magical. Probably not though. Also, we got approached by some guy promoting Camel cigarettes who suckered me into giving him my email address by promising me a free Camel zippo lighter. Of course I got to see the lighter after he had all my info. Then he immediately peaced out. Hrmm. Well, turns out the lighter looks awesome, but doesn't come with any lighter fluid. Awesome, that's how I like my lighters. Jackass.