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 :

• 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

RK, Grace, and Lorraine were good sports. RK, however, did NOT learn the superman (via soulja boy), the Dougie Fresh, or the Ricky Bobby (via B-Hamp). Not cool, RK, not cool. In fact, I think the entire BGP should learn the soulja boy superman. I have some work to do on that front.

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.

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.

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.

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).