Irony, Farragut Square

I don’t particularly have an update since Monkey and I spent the weekend not doing things of note. But, I had to share this little tidbit which happened a couple of weeks ago and I vowed then that it would be part of an Ophelia update.

Monkey and I go to Firehook for lunch, and as we walk in, we see a sample plate of pecan sandies. They don’t look so good, so we pass by and get our lunches. Afterward, as we sit and contemplate, we decide it would be fun to split a frozen custard to top off the lunch, so we head around the corner to Dickey’s. Custard in hand, we find ourselves on the corner waiting to cross the street, heading back in the direction of Firehook, and in the unfortunate position of having the most ABOMINABLE human beings behind us. That’s right: undergrads who get their fashion advice straight out of Abercrombie catalogs and Caddyshack movies and don’t understand why “Brah” isn’t an acceptable pronoun. There are two of them, significantly unshorn and over-tousled in that trendy “I’m-using-too-much-product-but-I’m-supposed-to-look-like-I-have-beach-hair-
(Even-though-we’re-in-the-middle-of-DC)” way*, and in serious need of either a belt or a wedgie (just for the hell of it… I mean, that’s what you’re asking for when you’re showing me your nasty old underwear, right?).

So, Brah, they’re going on and on about how stupid some people are and how “you wouldn’t believe what some people will do for free stuff, Brah.” I put this in quotation marks because it is a quotation, directly from the mouth of the donkey himself. They’re being very derisive about it and giving the air that they’re so far above it, but I really don’t understand how one can be so lofty when “Brah” is still part of your [active] vocabulary. Brah probably doesn’t even know what derisive means. Brah is still probably pre-pubescent.

At this point, finally and thankfully, the light changes, so we shuffle across the street.

As we approach the open door of Firehook, I imagine to myself that they’re heading there (so they won’t be in my ear with their wretched conversation,) when I think how funny it would be if they headed straight for the free samples (you see where this is going.) I barely have “How much you wanna bet…” out of my mouth before Monkey has SPOTTED IT HAPPENING. With eyes wide and mouth agape from being truly speechless, he stares and I turn from him just in time as we pass the door to see these two shining examples of the human male reaching into the sample box.

I find it kind of fulfilling when God shows me his sense of irony, and I especially like it when I have it all to myself or I share it only with Monkey. But on this day, God was just spot-on, and so I had to share with everyone else. Maybe you had to be there, but it was definitely the best laugh I had all month.

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* I have only known one person to master the beach-hair look and that was because he truly had beach hair. Beach hair comes from a mixture of long immersions in salt water and a deep conditioning treatment of board wax. In high school, my friend Jonas would surf every morning before school... which didn’t leave a lot of time for a shower. (“But the ocean is water” I think he once argued.) This is not to say my buddy was not a clean guy; it’s just that he was clean with a perpetual coating of saltwater. And the conjunction of events to get beach hair was something that I seriously doubted was the case about these two, in the middle of the city, in the middle of the day, midweek, and whose rainbow sandals had obviously never touched water nor sand in all their existence.

Ophelia, where HAVE you gone?

It's finally time for an update.

OPHELIA has been far, far too busy. First, it started with being slammed at work from January 2 until about mid-way through March. The past few weeks have been making up for all the living and free time lost in that period, nursing away the eczema-that-won't-be-denied (progeny of the 2.5-month-slam) and trying to get back into a semblance of a balanced life. There was a vacation to The Great Nation, which actually helped the eczema some, but the vacation wasn't long enough. There was some working on networking skills and getting over the horrid fear of meeting people and making friends. Progress was made, but it's an uphill battle. I'm still getting up the courage to try the Washington Blogger Meetup. It's gonna be a while.

I've been neglecting a lot of things, too. Like projects that I promised to people, reading that's been piling up (though my schedule has not precluded purchasing more books), and a slight neglect of the children: they've needed to be groomed for a while now. We decided that the vet was too expensive and we could do it ourselves, but it's a matter of getting around to it. It ends up being more painful for us that for them... but that's usually because we're the ones that get bit.

Monkey has finally finished up for the year, so I've also been placing my priorities on spending time with him before he starts work at the end of the month. And I've been participating in a little Wednesday-night diversion that puts those evenings out of commission. I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

Also on the evening-out-of-commission front, I've found religion. Or rather, I've decided that if I'm going to do this conversion thing, I need to get serious about it, which means Monkey needs to get serious about it too, which means services together. Eventually, I'll get around to the classes, but I have to at least show some initiative, right?

In the past few months, we've been a lot of places. We've eaten at a lot of places. We've eaten at some new places, and had both fantastic and abysmal experiences. I didn't bother to write them down because life has had other priorities. Soon, though, I hope to be back in full force, with scathing and lauding still intact.

This weekend promises to be jam-packed, and next weekend is a trip to the wild, frigid north. Or, as others like to call it, NYC. Now if only I had a palm pc to record all this on the spot...