Do we even need to bring a bottle? What if we brought a box?
Now, everyone knows I'm all about Baltimore. In fact, I'd love to move back to "the greatest city in America." Me and Baltimore are like two edamames in a pod. So of course when the BGP heard there was an actual bottle club in the basement of the Belvedere (think "The 13th Floor" at the Belvedere), we had to go.
Let me preface this by saying I've gotten into some ridiculous trouble in Baltimore, and this weekend was no exception. Marielle and Demetra headed down with me for a nice fall weekend in the city that bleeds. Of course they wanted to hit up the bottle club too. Everyone knows poppin' bottles in Bmore is pretty much synonymous with pure awesomeness.
Bring your own bottle? Check! Got the Absolut tucked away ready to go. But we thought we'd take it to a whole other level...boxed wine. You got it, wine in a box, not in a bottle, at the bottle club. Now this may have seemed like a wise idea at the time (I mean you can get two bottles in a box with a handle--sweet!) but in reality, it doesn't really make much sense to carry around a box of liquid all evening. Whatever.
So, we head to XS for dinner (probably the single best restaurant in Baltimore, and that's saying a lot--we all know Baltimore's got great eats). After dinner, we head over to Red Maple to start the night off. Unfortunately, not much doing there, so we head to the 13th floor. Now, they wouldn't let us carry our box in (are you kidding? they made us check that box of wine at the door! The bouncer sure was amused). Sitting at the bar, we notice the crowd is a little more colorful than usual--on initial examination, we figured it was nearing Halloween, and it made sense that people were a little flamboyant. On second thought, that "lady" with the long white wig, linebacker shoulders, Cruella nails, and dark eyeliner wasn't a lady at all (yeah, we thought she was dressed up for a Halloween party)--"she" was definitely a "he"--and a very tall he at that.
We cracked up when "he" went into the ladies' restroom--was he going to whip it out like nobody noticed he had a little extra down there?
Ok. We'd had enough of 13th Floor by that point (seriously, when did that place go south???) so we picked up our box and headed downstairs. Its time for BOTTLE CLUB.
Now, let me preface this by saying that there used to be this really chill Russian Bar in the basement of the Belvedere--like legit Russian bar with real Russians. I actually think it may have been a Russian mob hangout spot. Well, chill Russian bar was apparently having a "ladies night"--to Marielle this meant "cheap drinks for the ladies." To Baltimore, it meant "all you really boyish ladies who like other ladies (and not boyz) please come down." (I think Marielle thought they were dudes, which makes sense why she wouldn't realize that it was lesbian pride night).
Ok, so we head on in to go to Bottle Club, and it's already looking pretty ghetto. The guy at the door basically pats us down (note: don't ever go to a club that pats you down--you know it's gonna be ghetto if they check your pockets and feel around your ankles for a pistol strapped to your leg). We head down the stairs, very dark stairs, and the chick at the entrance just looks at us. Do I have something on my face? Am I glowing? Cuz you're looking at my like I'm an alien. Jeez! "$10 dolla." Me: "Wait, what? 10$ cover for a place where I can't even buy a drink and the DJ is really a 1G iPod?" NO THANKS.
Bottle Club, you really disappoint me. We walk back up. Hang out with the bouncers for Russian Bar lesbian night. Bouncers: "YOU girls were going to bottle club? YOU BROUGHT A BOX OF WINE???"
Hell yes we brought a box of wine. Bottle Club is ridiculous on principle. Why not take it to another level with a box of wine.
Monday morning, Bottle Club is in the Sun!
http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/local/baltimore_cit/bal-md.ci.club14may14,0,1908889.story
Maybe it's a good thing we didn't stay too long?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
WhiteShorts vs. Liz: Everyone knew it would happen
I should backstory this by saying that about 3 weeks ago WhiteShorts apparently got in a shouting match with a pedestrian and sort of flipped out. And now there is a nice disclaimer in the fun run emails saying that runners need to be courteous.
Well well, it's been a while since I've had any type of showdown with WhiteShorts. I've had softball on Thursday nights, and have therefore been running on my own after our games. And WhiteShorts doesn't come Tuesdays, so that's out too. Well, it just happened that the stars aligned and my game was rained out and WhiteShorts and I both end up at Pacers on Thursday 5/28. I should note that I was a few minutes late, and therefore started approximately 800 meters behind my normal group. So I hussle my ass to catch up. And low and behold, WhiteShorts is running with my crew. (Apparently James went out with Jeff, and WhiteShorts learned his lesson about going out with James during WhiteShorts Round 2).
Ok. I'm a pretty nice girl. I believe in 2nd, and 3rd, chances. So I'm running with Sarah, and WhiteShorts and Sam decide to run with us. Cool. So me and Sarah are chatting it up, and I turn back to WhiteShorts and say "hey, I'm Liz, what's your name?" We thus proceed to include him in conversation until the turnaround point. I did tell him to feel free to pass us if we are holding us up, but he said that he didn't know the route (I should note that it was out and back along Sligo, and I told him where the turnaround was). Well, he runs with us to the turnaround, and then we turn around, and he proceeds to run approximately 30-40 meters ahead of us (which I always find a bit annoying when people do that but whatever). Well, WhiteShorts is confused when we have to make a few winding turns, so he shouts back to us, "which way which way?" I shout "Left!" Ok, still running 30-40 meters ahead of us. We get to another bridge, which we must turn left to cross, and then turn right to keep going straight ahead. WhiteShorts turns back and says, "Which way? Which waaay?" I point left to cross the bridge. We cross the bridge slightly behind him and he's saying, "Which way which way?" I finally say, "I'm done shouting out the route. Either learn the route, or run with the group." WhiteShorts doesn't like that very much and gets mad. I catch my breath and say (as he's bitching who knows what, told me I was mean or something), "Listen, listen" (I was going to explain to him that it's difficult to shout when running hard but that I was glad to explain the route to him). Well he cuts me off, throws his hands up in the air and says, "Whatever you could have just told me the way to go! Just stop, just drop it, its done." I say, "Well you don't need to be an asshole about it. And he runs off...30-40 meters ahead of us.
Ok, whatever. We all know WhiteShorts has some issues. We all know I have issues with WhiteShorts too. Well, WhiteShorts doesn't know the damn way back! So we finally get to the point where we cross a small bridge and head back to the store, and he runs right past the bridge. So we yell out, "Go right!" And he beats us back to the store by maybe a minute. Ok cool. I'm cooled off, I'm going to explain to him what the issue was (I can't shout things out all the time) and tell him I have no problem with him running with me, but that my problem was with his expectation that we dictate the route as we run.
Well I go up to WhiteShorts and say, "Hey I'm not trying to fight with you, but the issue was..." and he cuts me off: "DROP IT! You should have just told me the route." Me: "I'm trying to explain..." Whiteshorts cuts me off again: "You just HAVE to get the last word in don't you? Just SHUT UP." Me: "FINE buddy." WhiteShorts: "JUST SHUT UP, shut your big mouth! What's your problem? You just have to get that last word in don't you."
Me (in my head): WTF is wrong with this dude? Nuts!
So I get my keys and leave. So much for 3rd chances. This was not a good situation. I was not very happy. In fact, I was crazy mad. And it was really sort of embarassing...because WHO DOES THAT!
So, WhiteShorts: I hate you. You are a jerk.
As Tom says, "WhiteShorts probably has gynophobia." I agree.
WhiteShorts (n.): Someone who committs a running faux paus. Ex: He was a total WhiteShorts.
WhiteShortsed (v.): To committ a running faux paus. Ex: He totally WhiteShortsed me on that last turn!
Well well, it's been a while since I've had any type of showdown with WhiteShorts. I've had softball on Thursday nights, and have therefore been running on my own after our games. And WhiteShorts doesn't come Tuesdays, so that's out too. Well, it just happened that the stars aligned and my game was rained out and WhiteShorts and I both end up at Pacers on Thursday 5/28. I should note that I was a few minutes late, and therefore started approximately 800 meters behind my normal group. So I hussle my ass to catch up. And low and behold, WhiteShorts is running with my crew. (Apparently James went out with Jeff, and WhiteShorts learned his lesson about going out with James during WhiteShorts Round 2).
Ok. I'm a pretty nice girl. I believe in 2nd, and 3rd, chances. So I'm running with Sarah, and WhiteShorts and Sam decide to run with us. Cool. So me and Sarah are chatting it up, and I turn back to WhiteShorts and say "hey, I'm Liz, what's your name?" We thus proceed to include him in conversation until the turnaround point. I did tell him to feel free to pass us if we are holding us up, but he said that he didn't know the route (I should note that it was out and back along Sligo, and I told him where the turnaround was). Well, he runs with us to the turnaround, and then we turn around, and he proceeds to run approximately 30-40 meters ahead of us (which I always find a bit annoying when people do that but whatever). Well, WhiteShorts is confused when we have to make a few winding turns, so he shouts back to us, "which way which way?" I shout "Left!" Ok, still running 30-40 meters ahead of us. We get to another bridge, which we must turn left to cross, and then turn right to keep going straight ahead. WhiteShorts turns back and says, "Which way? Which waaay?" I point left to cross the bridge. We cross the bridge slightly behind him and he's saying, "Which way which way?" I finally say, "I'm done shouting out the route. Either learn the route, or run with the group." WhiteShorts doesn't like that very much and gets mad. I catch my breath and say (as he's bitching who knows what, told me I was mean or something), "Listen, listen" (I was going to explain to him that it's difficult to shout when running hard but that I was glad to explain the route to him). Well he cuts me off, throws his hands up in the air and says, "Whatever you could have just told me the way to go! Just stop, just drop it, its done." I say, "Well you don't need to be an asshole about it. And he runs off...30-40 meters ahead of us.
Ok, whatever. We all know WhiteShorts has some issues. We all know I have issues with WhiteShorts too. Well, WhiteShorts doesn't know the damn way back! So we finally get to the point where we cross a small bridge and head back to the store, and he runs right past the bridge. So we yell out, "Go right!" And he beats us back to the store by maybe a minute. Ok cool. I'm cooled off, I'm going to explain to him what the issue was (I can't shout things out all the time) and tell him I have no problem with him running with me, but that my problem was with his expectation that we dictate the route as we run.
Well I go up to WhiteShorts and say, "Hey I'm not trying to fight with you, but the issue was..." and he cuts me off: "DROP IT! You should have just told me the route." Me: "I'm trying to explain..." Whiteshorts cuts me off again: "You just HAVE to get the last word in don't you? Just SHUT UP." Me: "FINE buddy." WhiteShorts: "JUST SHUT UP, shut your big mouth! What's your problem? You just have to get that last word in don't you."
Me (in my head): WTF is wrong with this dude? Nuts!
So I get my keys and leave. So much for 3rd chances. This was not a good situation. I was not very happy. In fact, I was crazy mad. And it was really sort of embarassing...because WHO DOES THAT!
So, WhiteShorts: I hate you. You are a jerk.
As Tom says, "WhiteShorts probably has gynophobia." I agree.
WhiteShorts (n.): Someone who committs a running faux paus. Ex: He was a total WhiteShorts.
WhiteShortsed (v.): To committ a running faux paus. Ex: He totally WhiteShortsed me on that last turn!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Wire, Part 1
Well, I am not so good at this blogging thing (not yet at least). I did, however, spend the weekend living The Wire in Baltimore City. The weekend consisted of :
We drove by Melba's--always good to start getting more ideas for my 29th Birthday Party (I know, everyone is super excited and will have trouble waiting the next 4 years for that day to come). I also saw Rock (I really think his name is actually Short Rock, but I've always just called him Rock). Rock owns his own little corner stand, across from Pete's Grill (and Melba's). He sells Tims, t-shirts, freestyle shirts, incense, and that type of stuff. Sometimes his uncle Pat helps out--I like Pat. Pat has like 3 teeth. Total. I am so Baltimore.
I also ran a race on Sunday morning. Duby wore a pirate costume. Duby and James MotherFucking Tang (JMFT--that's really his name) sprinted the first ~250 meters in pirate costumes. It was hilarious. I also beat this chick who's been beating me since she was 12 years old. Holla! I did the first mile in about 5:59--very interesting considering I decided NOT to go out fast this morning...
So that is the toned down version of the weekend. It was fab. We are ballers. I love Baltimore.
- Being glamorous
- Eating really good food
- Remembering how much I love Baltimore
- Trying to decide when I will move back to Baltimore
- Talking shit about multiple people
- Renewing my love for the Navy
We drove by Melba's--always good to start getting more ideas for my 29th Birthday Party (I know, everyone is super excited and will have trouble waiting the next 4 years for that day to come). I also saw Rock (I really think his name is actually Short Rock, but I've always just called him Rock). Rock owns his own little corner stand, across from Pete's Grill (and Melba's). He sells Tims, t-shirts, freestyle shirts, incense, and that type of stuff. Sometimes his uncle Pat helps out--I like Pat. Pat has like 3 teeth. Total. I am so Baltimore.
I also ran a race on Sunday morning. Duby wore a pirate costume. Duby and James MotherFucking Tang (JMFT--that's really his name) sprinted the first ~250 meters in pirate costumes. It was hilarious. I also beat this chick who's been beating me since she was 12 years old. Holla! I did the first mile in about 5:59--very interesting considering I decided NOT to go out fast this morning...
So that is the toned down version of the weekend. It was fab. We are ballers. I love Baltimore.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Porn on the Metro? Why not!
Well, we all know the Washington Metro Transit Authority (WMATA), or "The Metro" as we affectionately refer to it, can be an adventure. You want to ride out to Anacostia? Great, but better have your guns loaded and your taser ready. Rush hour at Metro Center or Chinatown? Great, but be ready to play the pushing game.
Now I've had many adventuers on the metro:
Had an obese woman sit on your lap? Check.
Been smacked in the face with a backpack? Check.
Got in a fight with drunk guys? Check.
Seen those guys with the machine guns? Check. (think summer 2004)
Ever had someone look at a Playboy while sitting next to you? Now, I would have thought that something like that would be a little far-fetched, even for our metro. Nope. Nothing is too much for WMATA.
So I'm on my way to work one sunny morning--it's pretty early, and not too crowded yet. Definitely before 8am. This rather large man gets on, plops down next to me and shouts, "Hi! What's your name?" Grabs my hand, starts shaking.
Great. Mental disabilities are not my forte at 7:30am. Finally, "Uh can I have my hand back now?" Whew. All limbs fully intact. I should mention that it's April Fools day. Certainly someone is playing a mean joke on me and the cameras are hiding in the seat next to me right? No dice. My new friend starts telling me jokes (I mean, it is April Fools day). Great. He's basically shouting. I want to take a nap, stare out the window, have a nice commute. Nope. Finally, I hand him my Express: "Here, why don't you look at the newspaper for a bit--there's some great pictures!"
Sweet. He's looking at the paper.
Sort of ghetto-fab lady gets on, sits down near us. She looks at him a little funny. Ok, he's sort of all over the place. Bags all over. Now, we're nearing Union Station. Almost at Metro Center (I failed to mention that he sort of smelled like...poop...gross...he is also moving closer onto my seat by the minute, spreading out...great.) So people are getting on, I look to my right.
Oh SHIT--he's got a Playboy magazine out, not discreetly. Held straight up right there in front of me, naked chicks right up in his face. People are starting to look, whisper to their friends. HELLOO what about me? Save me! The ghetto-fab lady cady-corner to us gives ME a dirty look-she's giving me the stink-eye! Did I do this? Did I put the Playboy into his hands???
I say to my new friend with the Playboy, "Why don't you put that away and save it for later...read it when you get home." Ok..he puts it away. Situation mitigated...or so I think.
He get's out a copy of the Examiner, sweet. We're almost at my stop and the porn is away.
More people are getting on, and once again I look over....and what do I see....he's got the playboy held up in the air to get a better view of the centerfold! OMG. Is this really happening to me? I get a look of sympathy from a nice woman, but most people are averting their eyes, whispering.
Finally I ask him to put it away again. He does...and he looks straight at me and says, "YOU'RE SEXY."
Great, I think. Here's a really big mentally disabled guy who is clearly horny, likes boobs, and probably wants to see more boobs since I asked him to put his Playboy away prematurely. I'm sure I'm about to get grabbed and have my ninja moves ready. Finally, my stop. I rush off. I realize my hands are shaking. My blood pressure is through the roof. My jugular is pumping blood at least 2x faster than usual, and I swear people can see the vein throbbing in my neck and I struggle to get as far away from my Playboy friend as possible.
Oh, WMATA. Why do you torture me the way you do.
Now I've had many adventuers on the metro:
Had an obese woman sit on your lap? Check.
Been smacked in the face with a backpack? Check.
Got in a fight with drunk guys? Check.
Seen those guys with the machine guns? Check. (think summer 2004)
Ever had someone look at a Playboy while sitting next to you? Now, I would have thought that something like that would be a little far-fetched, even for our metro. Nope. Nothing is too much for WMATA.
So I'm on my way to work one sunny morning--it's pretty early, and not too crowded yet. Definitely before 8am. This rather large man gets on, plops down next to me and shouts, "Hi! What's your name?" Grabs my hand, starts shaking.
Great. Mental disabilities are not my forte at 7:30am. Finally, "Uh can I have my hand back now?" Whew. All limbs fully intact. I should mention that it's April Fools day. Certainly someone is playing a mean joke on me and the cameras are hiding in the seat next to me right? No dice. My new friend starts telling me jokes (I mean, it is April Fools day). Great. He's basically shouting. I want to take a nap, stare out the window, have a nice commute. Nope. Finally, I hand him my Express: "Here, why don't you look at the newspaper for a bit--there's some great pictures!"
Sweet. He's looking at the paper.
Sort of ghetto-fab lady gets on, sits down near us. She looks at him a little funny. Ok, he's sort of all over the place. Bags all over. Now, we're nearing Union Station. Almost at Metro Center (I failed to mention that he sort of smelled like...poop...gross...he is also moving closer onto my seat by the minute, spreading out...great.) So people are getting on, I look to my right.
Oh SHIT--he's got a Playboy magazine out, not discreetly. Held straight up right there in front of me, naked chicks right up in his face. People are starting to look, whisper to their friends. HELLOO what about me? Save me! The ghetto-fab lady cady-corner to us gives ME a dirty look-she's giving me the stink-eye! Did I do this? Did I put the Playboy into his hands???
I say to my new friend with the Playboy, "Why don't you put that away and save it for later...read it when you get home." Ok..he puts it away. Situation mitigated...or so I think.
He get's out a copy of the Examiner, sweet. We're almost at my stop and the porn is away.
More people are getting on, and once again I look over....and what do I see....he's got the playboy held up in the air to get a better view of the centerfold! OMG. Is this really happening to me? I get a look of sympathy from a nice woman, but most people are averting their eyes, whispering.
Finally I ask him to put it away again. He does...and he looks straight at me and says, "YOU'RE SEXY."
Great, I think. Here's a really big mentally disabled guy who is clearly horny, likes boobs, and probably wants to see more boobs since I asked him to put his Playboy away prematurely. I'm sure I'm about to get grabbed and have my ninja moves ready. Finally, my stop. I rush off. I realize my hands are shaking. My blood pressure is through the roof. My jugular is pumping blood at least 2x faster than usual, and I swear people can see the vein throbbing in my neck and I struggle to get as far away from my Playboy friend as possible.
Oh, WMATA. Why do you torture me the way you do.
WhiteShorts, Round 1
So if you've ever run with me, you'd know that I go hard, but pretty much goof off the whole time. You'd also know that I hate runners with bad etiquitte. Bad runner's etiquitte = I will smash you.
Approximately 1 month ago, a new addition showed up to our fun run group. The key word here is fun. It's not a race, we run as a group. So anyways, this new guy shows up. Cool. Ok. Hi new guy. New guy goes out with the fast group. Ok, cool. I'm not running with the top group tonight--they were going really fast! So we're doing an Alaska route of sorts, and when we make a turn, I notice that WhiteShorts (which is what Tom and I have named him, since the first time he came he was wearing white basketball shorts) went straight. I felt bad--he's new, he's wearing white shorts, and he's getting lost. Ok, so I run about .5 miles back to get him, and make sure he knows the route.
I come up on WhiteShorts, who is now going the right way again, and I say oh, we turned, it's this way. He looks at me, he says "Ok, thanks." And he sprints past me. To catch up to the group that I had been running with before I turned around to go get him. Sprints past me, won't even run with me. Ok, hmmm. So I catch back up to the group I was with. WhiteShorts is there, but trying to run out front so he's not "really" with the group.
So my first WhiteShorts experience was less than positive. He was rude. No need to sprint ahead of me after I ran .5 miles back to get him! We run with the group. This ain't no race!
My 2nd WhiteShorts experience. A few weeks ago, WhiteShorts is back in full force. He'd been coming more regularly. I had felt no pressure to let him know that while he may be fast, I can hang. But this day, he went out with my group (since we were the lead group that day, and well, WhiteShorts always has to go with the fastest group). We're coming down Colesville to Eastern, and I'm on the sidewalk. WhiteShorts is running in the street so he can be towards the front. A car is coming, and WhiteShorts jumps up onto the sidewalk, I nearly fall on my face after being cut off by him. Damn you WhiteShorts! (I should metion that WhiteShorts may know that we refer to him as WhiteShorts since Tom and I were discussing his presence with him around. But that's beside the point).
Well, I was mad tired from a smokin' fast Sligo-Ritchie Loop on Tuesday with AF Chris (who is a hill monster, for real), so I dropped back and ran with Steve, and then Amy. I also got run over by a car that day, but that's not really part of this story (though I bet WhiteShorts wouldn't have even stopped if he'd been there).
WhiteShorts, its on. So this past Tuesday, April 7, I decided that it's time to show WhiteShorts he ain't so fast. James lent me a little strategy, and we decided that James would take WhiteShorts out at a blazin' pace (WhiteShorts always insists upon running with the front group, even if the group is way too fast) and I'd run with AF Chris (who is the best pacer ever so I knew we'd be within striking distance as WhiteShorts slowed). Low and behold, after the gigantic Ritchie hill, there is WhiteShorts, within striking distance (I should note that we got stuck at a 2 minute light, giving WhiteShorts a 2 minute lead on us). Well WhiteShorts had fallen behind from the lead pack--couldn't keep up. AF Chris passes WhiteShorts. WhiteShorts is still falling behind, I can see him. I'm pushing hard so I can get him...that little bitch cuts a corner, bigtime! We're almost back to the store, and WhiteShorts is no where to be seen.
Apparently he turned off a block early (he never does that). I like to think he turned off early because he didn't want to come in with me right on his heels--everyone would then know that WhiteShorts isn't as fast as he thinks he is.
Thus, WhiteShorts Round II will take place next Thursday, April 17, at 7:oo p.m. Our strategy is still the same: take him our hard, strike in the 2nd half.
WhiteShorts, your ass is going down--for the 2nd time.
Approximately 1 month ago, a new addition showed up to our fun run group. The key word here is fun. It's not a race, we run as a group. So anyways, this new guy shows up. Cool. Ok. Hi new guy. New guy goes out with the fast group. Ok, cool. I'm not running with the top group tonight--they were going really fast! So we're doing an Alaska route of sorts, and when we make a turn, I notice that WhiteShorts (which is what Tom and I have named him, since the first time he came he was wearing white basketball shorts) went straight. I felt bad--he's new, he's wearing white shorts, and he's getting lost. Ok, so I run about .5 miles back to get him, and make sure he knows the route.
I come up on WhiteShorts, who is now going the right way again, and I say oh, we turned, it's this way. He looks at me, he says "Ok, thanks." And he sprints past me. To catch up to the group that I had been running with before I turned around to go get him. Sprints past me, won't even run with me. Ok, hmmm. So I catch back up to the group I was with. WhiteShorts is there, but trying to run out front so he's not "really" with the group.
So my first WhiteShorts experience was less than positive. He was rude. No need to sprint ahead of me after I ran .5 miles back to get him! We run with the group. This ain't no race!
My 2nd WhiteShorts experience. A few weeks ago, WhiteShorts is back in full force. He'd been coming more regularly. I had felt no pressure to let him know that while he may be fast, I can hang. But this day, he went out with my group (since we were the lead group that day, and well, WhiteShorts always has to go with the fastest group). We're coming down Colesville to Eastern, and I'm on the sidewalk. WhiteShorts is running in the street so he can be towards the front. A car is coming, and WhiteShorts jumps up onto the sidewalk, I nearly fall on my face after being cut off by him. Damn you WhiteShorts! (I should metion that WhiteShorts may know that we refer to him as WhiteShorts since Tom and I were discussing his presence with him around. But that's beside the point).
Well, I was mad tired from a smokin' fast Sligo-Ritchie Loop on Tuesday with AF Chris (who is a hill monster, for real), so I dropped back and ran with Steve, and then Amy. I also got run over by a car that day, but that's not really part of this story (though I bet WhiteShorts wouldn't have even stopped if he'd been there).
WhiteShorts, its on. So this past Tuesday, April 7, I decided that it's time to show WhiteShorts he ain't so fast. James lent me a little strategy, and we decided that James would take WhiteShorts out at a blazin' pace (WhiteShorts always insists upon running with the front group, even if the group is way too fast) and I'd run with AF Chris (who is the best pacer ever so I knew we'd be within striking distance as WhiteShorts slowed). Low and behold, after the gigantic Ritchie hill, there is WhiteShorts, within striking distance (I should note that we got stuck at a 2 minute light, giving WhiteShorts a 2 minute lead on us). Well WhiteShorts had fallen behind from the lead pack--couldn't keep up. AF Chris passes WhiteShorts. WhiteShorts is still falling behind, I can see him. I'm pushing hard so I can get him...that little bitch cuts a corner, bigtime! We're almost back to the store, and WhiteShorts is no where to be seen.
Apparently he turned off a block early (he never does that). I like to think he turned off early because he didn't want to come in with me right on his heels--everyone would then know that WhiteShorts isn't as fast as he thinks he is.
Thus, WhiteShorts Round II will take place next Thursday, April 17, at 7:oo p.m. Our strategy is still the same: take him our hard, strike in the 2nd half.
WhiteShorts, your ass is going down--for the 2nd time.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
As anyone who knows me should know, every day is pretty much an adventure in my life. I have metro adventures, running adventures, work adventures, going out adventures...if you think crazy stuff happens to you, think again. Something crazier is probably happening to me.
Been tased with a taser? Check.
Chased by kids with guns? Check.
Had anyone look at porn while sitting next to you on the metro? Check.
Got hit by a car? Check. Check. Check...
Now, I've always had my fair share of adventures, but Baltimore City seems like it was conducive to incubating that adventure bug. I mean, lets be real. Who doesn't want to live The Wire 24/7?
I also do my fair share of road races, which are often an adventure themselves. Most of the time, I sign up thinking how much fun I always have at these races. I usually forget how much I hate getting up super early to go run them. Thank goodness I've usually got Eva to talk me into stuff--like she talked me into the National Marathon a few weeks ago (as if I would think running 26.2 miles was a good idea all on my own).
So there you are. Welcome to my blog. (But please, don't call me a blogger).
Been tased with a taser? Check.
Chased by kids with guns? Check.
Had anyone look at porn while sitting next to you on the metro? Check.
Got hit by a car? Check. Check. Check...
Now, I've always had my fair share of adventures, but Baltimore City seems like it was conducive to incubating that adventure bug. I mean, lets be real. Who doesn't want to live The Wire 24/7?
I also do my fair share of road races, which are often an adventure themselves. Most of the time, I sign up thinking how much fun I always have at these races. I usually forget how much I hate getting up super early to go run them. Thank goodness I've usually got Eva to talk me into stuff--like she talked me into the National Marathon a few weeks ago (as if I would think running 26.2 miles was a good idea all on my own).
So there you are. Welcome to my blog. (But please, don't call me a blogger).
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