New computer

S gave me a Macbook for Christmas. I'm sitting in the living room right now online with no wires. Never used Mac before so it's taking some adjustments, such as how to do cut and paste, how to open links in new tabs and all that stuff. But I have a feeling I'm going to love it and may even get to blog more now that I don't actually have to sit at the computer to do so.

A Rapping Captain Kirk

S and I watched a pretty funny movie we had never heard of last night, called "Free Enterprise." And much like other movies where the ending made the entire movie, so did this one.

It's about some buddies who are Star Trek fans, worship William Shatner and work in the movie industry. William Shatner shows up in the movie, playing himself as an egotistical, hard-drinking blowhard who wants to put on a musical version of Julius Caesar with himself playing all the parts. I thought that part was a jab at Patrick Stewart who put on a musical version of A Christmas Carol with himself playing all the parts.

At any rate the movie culminates with Shatner rapping Marc Antony's speech at a birthday party.

Enjoy!

Project 4.4 -- the 80s v. the 50s

Dear God, now I feel old, old, old. Back when I was in high school, thanks to Happy Days, 50s flashback dances were hugely popular. Girls would dress in poodle skirts and tight sweaters with headbands. Boys would put on white t-shirts with sleeves rolled over cigs and slick their hair into ducktails.

Well, now the 80s are getting that treatment. With even more disdain than we felt making fun of the 50s. Now I know how my mother felt.

Never more so than watching this edition of PR where a lot of 80s and late 70s style fashions were revisited in all their hideous glory. Overalls. Dancewear (Flashdance anyone? Jane Fonda jazzercise?). Shoulder pads, a la Dynasty.

And it was a dreadful mess. I didn't think anyone won. I don't think Jillian's crew was memorable. The closest was our fey friend Christian and his crew.

But Chris should not have lost. Maybe I have too much 80s left in me because I didn't think his was that bad.

In other words, Ricky, go home. Now.

Edited to add: and Victorya and your passive aggressive route can quickly follow.

Houston

I just got back from Houston. What a town. What failed potential. And its panhandlers could give lessons to DC ones. Someone pointed out that a lot of the beggars were probably vestiges of Hurricane Katrina. That's probably tragically true, because I saw some pretty tragic homeless cases.

The one place I did not see homeless folks in downtown Houston, curiously enough, was the Bayou Trail. Picture this: Coming from snowbound DC where it was 27 when I left to a Houston at 80 degrees with about 100 degrees humidity. Of course I had to don my t-shirt and running shorts and check out the trails. That meant the Bayou Trail, which snakes under the complex highway system along a sort of river. It had huge failed potential, symptomatic of the entire downtown, it seemed to me. Visually, it's a great downtown -- so why did it seem so sluggish? The Bayou Trail could emulate San Antonio's Riverwalk. At least decorate it for Christmas!

Project Runway 4.3 -- It's Raining Men

This week was rather fun. Was it all the designers freaking out or all the male pulchritude floating around the design room? hmmm. Though I have to say, none of the male models had as chiseled pecs as Jack. Are we sure he's on the show as a designer?

But there was plenty of action for the straight male as well. S was thrilled that the designers were dressing Tiki Barber. My face was as blank as those of most of designers. Tiki who? "He's one of the greatest running backs ever! He's absolutely amazing! I can't believe he agreed to do this." Okee.do.kee.

This episode brought out the ugly in a few people. I liked Raimi a lot less. I liked Jack a lot more after all the help he gave Carmen and sharing his pattern with anyone who asked. Ricky came across as an Andrae without the fun part.

Sweet P came across well as far as not whining about her failures. I liked her self mockery with shooting herself with her forefinger as her model tried his best.
Steve looks as though he's very witty. The Titanic quip was priceless.
Carmen was the right choice, once more. Who makes the jacket before making the shirt?! duh. Sweet P's shirt was a hot mess but the pants looked good.

I don't agree with the judges on the winner for the third week in a row. I would've picked Kevin or Kit before Jack.

Farewell, my countryside

Ah, my Kentucky. It's a fading memory, chopped down by subdivisions and strip malls. My memories are erased by McMansions and vanishing trees, disappearing meadows, green Kentucky grass paved over by concrete.

I took S to meet the family for Thanksgiving. Of course he knew my mother, father and siblings, but he'd never met my grandmother, various aunts, uncles and cousins. Where are the rolling hills, he wondered. I promised him a detour to where my grandmother used to live, in Anchorage, where she cultivated a quarter-acre garden, hedged by honeysuckle.

I have a lot of fond memories of that house, sitting on the grass watching the incredible stars that you would never see in the city lights of Wilton Manors or Fort Lauderdale. The smell of brewing coffee in the morning, the fried chicken and green beans in the large kitchen where we'd chat as we strung and snapped the beans.

There was the playhouse at the corner of the lot where my aunt, three weeks younger than me, played, dark curly hair where mine was straight and blond, clear green eyes where mine were murky brown, battling weight while I struggled with gauntness. When we were really daring, we'd duck under the barbed wire fence to visit the retaining pond below. We'd go visit Pam at the farmhouse a crop away.

Now a huge house sits where the pond was. The rolling hill beyond seems to have vanished. The farmhouse and the crop are gone and several brick houses are there. Grandma's old clapboard white house seems shrunken and disheveled, no longer shaded by the large elm tree.

The windy Flat Rock Road, which used to twist and turn with the woods, is straight and smooth as it goes by one huge house after another. The old falling down barn is long gone. So is the old general store on Highway 60, or Shelbyville Road that would signal you were nearing the turn.

All gone. Childhood is gone, eaten away by progress.

Community Activism

So I joined in as a homeowner for the first time in my life.

I attended the ANC6A alcohol committee meeting tonight. The committee held a public hearing on possibly establishing a moratorium on bars and nightclubs on H St.

It's way, way too soon to consider such a thing. H street is still more vacant buildings than anything else right now. A two block stretch that is only starting to thrive is just that -- only starting to thrive.

People kept mentioning Adams Morgan. That's a different situation. For one thing, as I pointed out when I said my piece, the problem there is bars exploiting loopholes to get a restaurant liquor license when they're really bars. I think everyone in the H Street corridor will bow down and worship the first real sitdown restaurant we get in these parts.

That's what just about everyone said at the hearing: it's way too soon. Maybe we should look at some other successful corridors in the city (U st, Barracks Row, Chinatown) and see how many bars it took before restaurants and retail showed up.

W00t.