Low Income Housing for 350k

Do you know why DC's "economic revitalization" won't last for long? People like Deputy Mayor Stanley Jackson live in a dreamworld:

"Jackson said the construction of low-cost housing is only one of redevelopment's benefits. Citing examples in Southeast, he said boarded-up buildings that were a bastion for "prostitution, drugs and stolen cars" have been reborn as townhouses "that are available to low income and working class residents." He defined affordable units as costing between $200,000 and $350,000." (Washington Post, 7/28/06)

"Affordable units" for $350,000? In Southeast? Does that mean an English Basement with views of burning murder vans? What working class residents can afford down payments on $200k+ homes? I've got a decent middle class income and can't afford to buy Guinness.

I've lived here for about seven years. DC has really changed in that time. Logan Circle is now known for Whole Foods instead of prostitutes. I can ride my bike down Sherman Avenue without fear of crossfire. And yet certain things just don't seem right.

DCLofts.com boasts information on 400 CONDO DEVELOPMENTS. Take a walk down 14 Street NW and you'll see enormous empty condo developments being built one right after the other. Who's going to live in these places? Who can possibly afford them? Young professionals? Empty Nesters?

Ok.

But that's a small subset of a much larger population that wants to live here but can't afford it. There are only so many people who can afford $350k "units" in Southeast, not to mention million dollar condos in Columbia Heights.

I Eat Spoiled Food

Some people jog competitively. Others race bikes. Ballerinas dance until they vomit. Cyclists race till they get cancer.

I eat spoiled food. It doesn't matter what kind. Old hamburger meat? Sure. Three week old spaghetti? Why not? It's a challenge more than anything. Can you handle the stomach sickness? I can. Will you refuse to take Pepto-Bismol when things take a turn for the worse? I will.

I've played Oregon Trail. I know the consequences. Jeremiah might die of dysentery but I won't.

My Cat Has a Secret Jet Pack

I never liked cats. They make me sneeze. They claw at me. You can never trust them. Then one night Mandie got me drunk at Pasta Mia. The next thing I know I'm kitten-proofing the house and making out a check to the Madison Green Humane Society.

Now I like cats. We even took in a foster cat and ended up keeping her. But every once in a while cats make me want to scream.

Sophia, our second cat, has a penchant for peeing on the futon. I'm not sure why. She has a perfectly lovely litter box that I clean every day. She even has an extra litter box with a cover just in case she needs privacy. But for some reason, she just loves to pee on the futon. Everyday at five I walk in the door and find a nice big wet spot on the ole' Munkarp.

Last night after getting home late from the Nats game, I went through the usual motions of cleaning up the urine, but took the extra step of leaning the mattress against the wall. I figured that would buy me some time.

I was wrong.

Not only did I find urine on the mattress, I found fresh urine on the opposite side of the mattress. In the usual spot. Maybe she climbed up the top of the futon. But how did she pee on the mattress? She would have had to balance on a thin strip of wood, and pee upwards. Or does she have the ability to levitate? Plus, I thought women can't aim. This is one determined cat.

My only option is to pee on the mattress myself. Again.

Things That Make Me Feel Uncomfortable

American Apparel. It's not the sexy ads that creep me out. I think those are pretty great. It's the male product line. Just look at this insanity:

Fuchsia briefs? Who buys these? I'll tell you who: Hetero indie boys who want nothing more than to meet some adorable hipster girl at a "dive" bar so he can take her back to his "loft" for the sole purpose of stripping down to collectively admire his tight little pink panties. How cute and ironic! How secure in his masculinity!

The other day I mentioned to Mandie how neat it would be to own a nice white wife beater so that when we eat spagetti with red sauce and drink table wine I can slap her for getting out of line in style. But this "rib tank" is anything but stylish, and the torquoise would clash with my red and white checkered table cloth.

Who is this guy, Donald Sutherland? Why's he not wearing any pants? What possible purpose does this ensemble serve? There's not enough fabric to keep you warm. It looks quite tight around the arms, so it can't be comfortable. Is this male lingerie? Or is it what you wear while you get fluffed?

Yes, we get it. You're cool. The fabric prevents sweat from getting in your eyes. But do you put on this headband before going out at night? Is this what people in Williamsburg wear when power-drinking? Or is this more of a Saturday afternoon, "let's people watch in Union Square" kind of thing? I actually have a red, white and blue headband that I got in the 80s. I put it on yesterday but it made me sneeze cause it was so dusty, so I put it back in the dresser where it belongs.

Feet creep me out. It's something I need to work through, but this picture is simply appalling. The person is standing so straight. His feet look so symettrical. In my experience, every pair of 70ish tube socks I've come across look stained and smell bad. They belong in the bottom of school lockers. PUBLIC school lockers. Not on your feet. And for every girl you see wearing stiletto heals and 70s tube socks, I'll show you a person who has her head so far up her ass she can see the Pad Thai, Tom Collins and cocaine she had for dinner.

Celebrities (Should) Shoot to Kill

Since I plan on being a famous film star any moment now, I often think about how I'll deal with paparazzi. Will I punch them? Kick them? Throw acid in their faces? That might work, but viciously assaulting people can often land you in prison.

If Oz has taught me anything, it's that I'm not cut out for prison. Sure, I have a black belt in Taekwon-Do, but I'm also skinny and pretty. I'd be someone's bitch in no time, even if I shiv the first guy who looks at me wrong.

Thankfully I've come up with a sure-fire solution. I'll build an x-ray gun. It will be made of pure lead and shoot powerful x-rays. This will have a two-pronged effect. Firstly, the photographers' film will be ruined. You know how your exposures get all mushy after going through airport security conveyor belts? This will be TEN times worse. Secondly, I'll plant the seeds of cancer in those blood-suckers' bellies. They won't even know it happened until ten or fifteen years down the line when their doctor walks solemnly over and says, "It's in your colon, Phillippe."

Sinking

Lately I've been struggling with the idea of spending yet another year in DC. Even though I'm usually the one who argues, "oh come on, DC isn't THAT bad," when all my friends trash on it, the prospect of spending the rest of my adult life in this sinkhole creeps me out.

I know there are people who swear by this town. They have DC flag tattoos to prove it. But I can't be one of those people...I've actually lived in other places. New York has a ton of great bars spread all over the city, rather than just one good bar downtown called Recessions. Berlin has a public transportation system actually built for Berliners, rather than a useless metro system built only for white sneaker wearing, American Flag t-shirt-sporting tourists. Austin's got its live music and pretty suburban-like houses downtown. San Francisco has its rolling hills and (comparably) affordable homes. Milwaukee has 10 independently-owned coffee shops per person and real estate Marion Barry could afford. What does DC have?

Well, since it's all the rage these days (and by these days, I'm thinking five to six years ago), I'll make a list. The good and the bad. Check out how trendy I am:

The Good:

Jobs
Recessions
Local music (it's small, but it's there)
Nearby beaches
Fort Reno
Screen on the Green
Interesting architecture (the row houses, not the office buildings)
The Falafel Shop
Barrel House Liquor
Warehouse Next Door
The Black Cat
Maryland Homebrew

The Bad:

No voting rights
Federal Government oversight
Only a few neighborhoods worth spending any time in
Gentrification (which people like me can't help but contribute to)
Impossibly high housing & rental prices
Tense race relations
Interns
Young Professionals
George W. Bush
Segregation
Miserable residents
Disgusting architecture (downtown, not the rowhouses)
Drivers who panic at the first sight of rain, snow, slush, wind, sun, clouds, drafts
An inordinate number of obnoxious bars (See Adam's Morgan Thurs-Sat)
Republicans
Wonderland (obnoxious, but in a different way)
A bus system without buses
A metro system that doesn't go anywhere
George Washington University

Sadly, I ran out of good things to say after three entrees, and I could keep going on the bad for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe I'm just in a shitty mood, but I think the answer is clear. How do you get a German passport?

DC is on FIRE!

Adam's Morgan was apparently on fire this past Friday night, and I'm not talking about the dance floor!

Um.

It really wasn't a big deal, someone probably just burned some Jumbo Slices on the frying pan. They did shut down the entire block using occupied metro buses and numerous fire trucks. They even extended a ladder to save stranded discotec enthusiasts (see blury camera-phone picture).

I particularly enjoyed watching confused stiletto-heel wearing sorority girls walk across the street, tripping over the firehose. "Why can't we get into Heaven & Hell? I'm so drunk! Where am I? Why are the lights so bright? Are you a Kappa Kappa Gamma?" What a great time!

To top it off, some drunk girls bought too many jumbo slices and sold me one for 3 dollars (and yes, I remember when they cost a dollar seventy-five.) I went inside to pour some garlic salt on the slice and when I came back outside the same girl asked if I wanted to buy a jumbo slice cause they bought too many. I said, "I just bought one from you."

"Oh really? I'm so drunk. Are you in Kappa Kappa Gamma?"

The City Stole My Car!

You wake up on a Saturday morning and want nothing more than to spend the day tending vegetables in the fresh air. But what happens when you go outside and find your car missing? Do you call the police and report it stolen? More often then not you end up calling the police, but not because it was stolen. You see, the DC Department of Public Works is steadfast in its commitment to keeping city streets clean. Just check out the average street in Columbia Heights, Shaw or Brookland. Those syringes, condoms and broken bottles of Mad Dog 20/20? Well, yeah, they litter the street. But the DC Department of Public Works is HOT ON THE CASE! That’s why you can’t park your car on the street on any number of days. Just read the signs! Street Cleaning! Monday and Thursday! Tuesday and Friday! Monday through Sunday (if you’re in Georgetown)!

On Monday, Mandie parked her car on the Tuesday side of the street. Then she forgot to move it. She got a ticket for 30 dollars. When she logged online to pay off the ticket, there was no mention of her car having been towed. But when we walked over to where she parked the car on 15^th Street, surprise surprise…no car! Before panicking, Mandie called up the DC Police non-emergency number to find out if they towed her car. The first charming police officer she spoke to said they "moved" her car to the 2300 block of 16th street. Mandie understandably seemed puzzled by this, as 16th street is a main commuter route. If they had towed her car on a Tuesday, it couldn't possibly still be there. But yes, it was there! The officer insisted!

So, we walked down the block in the sweltering DC heat. Of course, no car. Mandie called back. She spoke to another officer, for an even longer period of time. They said her car was on the 2300 block of 16th. Mandie tried to explain that if they HAD moved her car there on Tuesday, it would have HAD to have been towed again, as they tow cars off of 16th street every day at 7:30am and 4:30 pm before rush hour. But no, the officer insisted that they only "moved" her car once. If it's not there, it must have been stolen. And no, they couldn't file a stolen vehicle report over the phone. We would have to walk over to the precinct station on V Street.

This didn't make sense. No one would steal a car equipped with THE CLUB off of 16th street between 7:30 and 4:30 on a weekday. Only an idiot would attempt such a thing. Why not walk a block over where there aren't three dozen witnesses driving by every minute?

We walked home. We needed to regroup. After some thought, Mandie called up the DC Department of Towing and Impoundment. She spoke to Sara, our new personal hero. Sara said our car was moved to the 2300 block of 16th. Mandie explained that it wasn't there. Sara put Mandie on hold for a minute, then came back and explained her car was on Belmont Street. Mandie asked why the Police told her otherwise. Sara laughed and said they probably hadn't even bothered to check if the car had been towed again. It seems this is a common problem.

To sum this up, the DC Police Department would rather have its citizens file stolen vehicle reports than actually check their towing records. Still surprised they can't solve murders?

Best yet, when we eventually found the car, it had two parking tickets on it, including a $100 dollar ticket because they had to tow our car after towing it into an illegal zone.

I love DC!