WashingTina

It's been a while since I've had one of those "am I being filmed for a reality show" bus experiences.  I had chalked it up to the fact that I was on vacation for a couple of weeks and that perhaps the crazies had also all gone on vacation.  Until today. We all know not to eat, drink, or litter on the bus or Metro -- it's plain as day on signs on the bus and train (and this handy "manners" page  from Metro).   So imagine my surprise when I saw a woman having a full picnic lunch today.  My co-rider was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver (separated by a partition of sorts).  The Lunch Lady had, balanced on her knees, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a juicebox, a bag of potato chips, and an half-eaten apple in her hand.  She was eating said apple with a loud munch-smack at every bite.  She was speaking loudly, mouth full, to her friend sitting next to her.  She didn't bother to offer him any of her treats, th...

This week's marathon Wimbledon match got me thinking about the summer during college that I spent working at a tennis club in Bethesda.  It sounds glamorous, but let me tell you, it wasn't.  There were no rich, muscular, well-tanned hotties to be seen.  In fact, I was the youngest person by at least two decades.  The cast of characters was vast and varied -- a strange mix of elderly retired and awkward yuppies.  It was also a hotbed of gossip and sexual tension.  The elderly were like a bunch of hormonal adolescents on and off the court.  The days I couldn't work, my sister or my Kindergarten Friend (I've known her since we met in the Doll Corner in Mrs. Spangler's class) would fill in.  Our duties consisted of making sure the members signed in and making sure that nobody went on the courts with black-soled shoes.  I think we also sold tennis balls, but I can't really remember.  It was deadly boring, but paid somethi...

I am a current events junkie.  Maybe it's my background in PR that generates my insatiable appetite for news.  Or maybe it's something more.  Something happening half a world away has been able to move me since I was a child.  I can remember seeing video of starving children in Ethiopia when I was a child and being moved to tears.  Since then, countless other stories have touched me and inspired me.  One such story, just a year old, is the story of Neda Agha-Soltan , the young woman who died before the eyes of the world during the protests in the wake of the Iranian election last year.  One of the reasons her story resonates (besides the horror of her last moments), is that she is a woman like so many of us, with dreams and ambitions, who was moved by injustice.  This story also holds something very personal for me.  WH is from Iran, and some of his family still lives there.  His cousins in Iran are my age, young wo...

I saw this article today about 60 heads found at an airport.  Supposedly it was part of "an illicit body parts trade."  (This begs the question, does one check their severed heads at the counter, or carry them on?  But that's another question for another time.)  While gruesome, the story reminded me of another severed head story from my past.  Before you think I've got some deep, dark past as a mafia hit woman, let me 'splain.  When I was in high school I was the teacher's aide for the school's anatomy and physiology teacher.  You really couldn't ask for a better deal than grading papers and cleaning lab trays during first period.  What's more, the teacher had also been my field hockey coach, and often "didn't notice" if I was a little late for school.  My teacher had managed to procure a bunch of fetal lambs from some farm which she had taken to NIH to have them preserved and stored until the class was ready to dissect them....

This afternoon a coworker and I were discussing how great the staff in Jim Graham's office is.  I often call on them when I need the wheels of D.C. government to move a little more quickly than they're apt to.  This reminded me of one particularly riduculous instance when the staff was really helpful.  I could fill volumes with the strange things that happen to me on a daily basis. I don't know why they happen, but I figure I may as well capitalize on it by sharing them with the public. I woke up early one May morning about three years ago to a loud grunting sound coming from my living room.  The living room is adjacent to my neighbor's bedroom, so I automatically assumed someone was getting a little early morning delight.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  When the noise continued, I decided to get up to investigate.  That's when I realized that the noise (which sounded kind of like a deep, gutteral "huuuuh, huuuuh, huuuuh...") was coming...