Most of the DCFÜD crew went out last night for an evening of medical emergencies, unbearable heat and violating open-container laws. It was like July… in April.
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| “Would you like some onions with your HUMAN LIVER?” |
First, amg walked into Cap Lounge on the Hill with a bag full of vaccines that he had to keep cold lest they spoil. Treating it like a human organ, we politiely asked for a Hefeweizen (horray for being a yuppie) and a bowl of ice. Jokes about the need to get loaded before braving 395 traffic on the way to a hospital aside, we had a medical emergency. If the desire to drink counts as a medical emergency
The extremely accomodating (and extremely Irish) server Gerry at the Cap brought a bowl of ice and some napkins to keep amg and zaf’s anti-typhoid vaccines cool, and later even agreed to store the medicine in the bar’s refrigerator. This was a good thing, as the Cap Lounge was experiencing a climate-control malfunction which caused overwhelming heat to blast from the ceiling vents. It was like happy hour in a tandoori oven – not pleasant.
Several men who looked like they could speak authouritatively about things like ducts and vents came around to tinker with the thermostat, each announcing that the problem had been solved. It only got hotter. When we protested the furnace-like state, the bar manager offered free shots if we stuck it out until the thermometer registered 100 degrees.
As it turns out, the thermometer didn’t display more than two digits, but when it finally rolled over to “00”, the manager honored his promise and brought a round of whiskey, although not without hassling the three Wilson SHS graduates at the table (snh, wrc and ejg if you must know) about their D.C.P.S. high school.
I think the line was, “I’m from Ward 8, I know what I’m talking about.”
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| No free drinks | Free drinks |
We eased on down the road to Zack’s, where pitchers of Miller Lite were consumed and some billiards were shot. Zack’s has a decent jukebox, with Stones, Hendrix, John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Cliff and various Motown classics perfect for drinking pisswater in the dark.
Our three exuberant ladies, filled with the energy of youth and many full mugs of cheap beer, decided that while Zack’s doesn’t have an outdoor patio, that should serve as no hinderance to taking a few beers outside and dancing in the rain on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Thirty seconds later, the bartender went to the door and asked them to kindly come back inside the bar, explaining how a liqour license is a good thing for a bar to have.
We went home, secure from typhoid and sobriety.
-Written by snh, edited and crossposted by DCSOB-er rj3

Remember when how food tasted relied mainly on, well, how the food actually tasted? So last century!
Thus inspired, I signed up for the Japanese Sushi class through Arlington’s Continuing Education program. On two consecutive Tuesdays, I huddled in the kitchen classroom at the Clarendon Education Center with a dozen other students. It’s a simple kitchen, but outfitted with all the essential equipment and a long table for the group to sit around. Mary Moore, youthful beyond her years and soon to be a great grandmother, led us through the basics of making sushi, Japanese dining etiquette and shopping. She is of Taiwanese descent, married an American serviceman and learned about Japanese food and culture during Japan’s occupation of Taiwan. Now she teaches people how to make sushi and is a Tupperware consultant (Fate is a funny thing, huh?).
When a lab rat discovers that he can receive a tasty food pellet by pressing a certain pattern of buttons, he’ll continue pressing those same buttons even when the food pellets start being distributed at random. Or he’ll do cute little paw motions depending on what he thinks might have worked in the past. This is superstition at its finest and it is the key to understanding why I keep on going back to My Bothers Place in Capitol Hill. Like our lab rats, I return each time with hope renewed despite objective criteria.





Witness the poor server at Rumors Bar and Restaurant in Farragut North. He is the only guy working the entire deck area. Customers are getting anxious and annoyed. A table of four well-dressed college kids who have been there drinking and eating for at least an hour decide it would be cool to leave without paying. He accidentally brings things to the wrong table or forgets them altogether. He thinks that things just couldn’t get any better when he finds out
Following our continued coverage of all things artificially sweet, we bring to you the news that Splenda is 