Social Capital is coming to an end, but there is still time to get out there and do some of the things that summer is made for. Here are some of my DC favorites and seasonal classics that will never go out of style.
As we've been reminded repeatedly, and not only by the weather channel, but in nearly every casual conversation we've had over the past week ("man, can you believe how hot it is?" "No, it's incredible. I heard it's going to be 102 by 10am), the Northeast is experiencing a record heat wave. To find out just what kind of heat we're really dealing with, the Social Capital team took to the streets yesterday. At approximately 4 o'clock in the afternoon, a few brave interns conducted a series of experiments to collect some concrete evidence of the recent heat wave. Read More »
It's sexist. Men should be able to wear skirts. I mean, I know we're allowed to… but you'd get some weird looks, and I think that's straight up bigoted. The thing is, though, a skirt is just more practical. Read More »
After weaving through the masses of people at Eastern Market while fondling jewelry, candles, and fantastic tie-dyed dresses (only $10!), I was in dire need of a sustenance break. I took my place at the end of a long line at The Market Lunch to sample what I had heard was the best crab cake sandwich in DC. Hey, for only $7, I figured it was worth a try. The Market Lunch is housed in a warehouse along with meat, cheese, dessert, and flower vendors. I wish I could say it's a nice reprieve from the heat, but the only cooling comforts are a few standing fans. Having survived most of a summer in DC, however, I've learned that you can't let the heat dissuade you -- especially not when you could be missing out on something as cheap and delicious as The Market Lunch. Just know what you want when you get to the cashier and have your receipt handy, or you could be greeted by a Soup-Naziesque stare. Trust me, it's an experience not to be missed. I'm going back next Saturday to try another specialty, their blueberry pancakes.
On Sunday, some of my friends and I made a trip to Six Flags America in Upper Marlboro. We decided to face our fear of the heat as my friend had a bunch half-price coupons. The park is a 15-25 minute drive from downtown (depends what part you're in), and can also be reached via Metro by taking the Blue Line to Addison Road, then taking the C21 bus to the park.
While I love roller coasters, my trips to theme parks aren't always enjoyable due to my bitter hatred of lines. Luckily, the longest I had to wait for anything was 15 minutes, giving me more time to revel in the joy of steep drops, seemingly impossible flips, and unimaginable speeds. Fun was had, and no one contributed to any semblance of a bad time (other than the high prices, which are unavoidable). There was one thing, however, that was out of my control… Read More »
The #1 DESTINATION FOR HAPPY HOUR
(ACCORDING TO THE WASHINGTON POST)
$10 DONATION FOR HAPPY HOUR SPECIALS
The last chance of the summer to network and socialize,
while supporting a great cause.
All proceeds go towards the Tuthill Activist Fellowship to support IWDC programs and projects. The International Women's Democracy Center is established to strengthen women's global leadership through training, education, networking and research in all facets of democracy.
For more information contact Katie at program@iwdc.org
A thirty-year staple of Dupont Circle, Kramerbooks has it all. It's an excellent bookstore, low on mainstream trash and high on alternative, substantial, subversive, and political reading. I freely admit to being a major book lover, so the biggest drawback to my entering Kramer's is that I really cannot afford to spend money on anything other than rent and food (DC is expensive!). Oh, well--the mind needs to be fed too, right? Right.
While I would be happy to praise Kramer's just for being the first good bookstore I've seen in Washington this summer, there's much, much more. At the back of the bookstore is the Afterwords Café, which opens starting at 7:30 a.m. for breakfast, and serves a fabulous late-night brunch after 10:30 p.m. Sunday through Thursday (and an equally scrumptious a.m. brunch on the weekends). Prices are mostly reasonable, with some great deals mixed in--go with a group and get Sharezies, an $18 trio of appetizers, for the table, and add a pitcher of draft for just another $10. And, try as you might, there's no missing the display of tantalizing cakes and pies, ice-cream specialties, and smoothies, served in very large portions. This is obviously not the place be on a diet.
I stopped by Kramer's on a Monday night, so I was saddened to miss out on part of the experience--live music. Every Wednesday through Saturday, you can add tunes to your food, drinks, and reading; the scene is dominated by folk, blues, and jazz, and starts at 8 p.m. on Wednesday, 9 p.m. on Thursdays, and 10 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays. This week's lineup features Mark Sylvester, Jumpin' Joe, Dave Mosic, and Mike Mulvaney (all four performers will play again during August as well).
Kramersbooks and Afterwords Café is fun and funky, tripping gaily along the fine line verging on sketchiness, but not quite cross over. This just adds to its flavor, especially making it an excellent break from some of the more typical popular bars and clubs DC has in plenty. And, while of course you have to be 21 to drink, the venue itself is open to all ages, gaining it major points with this 18-year-old intern.
So if you're a fan of food, music, drinks, or books, plan on spending at least one relaxing evening at Kramer's this summer.
Remember when Pat Robertson told us at the 1992 Republican National Convention that feminism "encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians?" Well imagine my surprise last summer when I attended the FMF's annual summer intern event and found a room full of friendly young women who made no attempt to slaughter, maul, or otherwise attack me for possessing a certain appendage. Well, this Wednesday, July 26, FMF is hosting yet another kick-ass event. Held at the Dirksen Senate Office Building (Room G50), the event will focus on encouraging women to participate in politics - on the campus, local and eventually national levels. Barbara Boxer, who rocks the power suit like no other, will speak, as will FMF's President and a US Congresswoman. The fun begins at 3 PM. Call 703.522.2215 with questions. I'll see you there!
You should get into the habit of asking for a job application when you go to Starbucks. And not only because you're a destitute DC intern scrambling for cash from whatever French-roast smelling hand will pay you, but because you can get free coffee out of it. Read More »
A quick tour of good music for this weekend and the next:
TONIGHT: Konono #1 hit the Black Cat with "electrified likembés (thumb pianos), homemade mics, traditional drums, and makeshift percussion. …plugged into huge handmade amps." Not only is their music a trip, the live show is supposed to quite an experience. Sidenote: Congotronics? Let's get with this.
TOMORROW: Exit Clov plays DC 9. I know these guys mostly because they put up ridiculous posters all over D.C. that seem much more terrifying than the band could possibly be. Anyways, check it out.
SUNDAY: Israel Vibration is celebrating the birthday of His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie I at the 9:30 club. Wait, Reggae? We are WAY TO CLOSE TO THIS. Let me ask someone else, inject some novelty. And … yes. You should go to this.
Diplo is all up in the Black Cat. Perhaps best known as MIA's producer, Diplo is a purveyor of baile funk, the hip-shaking fun drug from Brazil. You're going to dance at this.
NEXT SATURDAY: Castanets are playing in the Black Cat. They play some weird, spacey acoustic folk. I recommend them to you if you are feeling melancholy, or if you'd like to be.
NEXT SUNDAY: Wayne Newton is the most important artist of our generation. He is playing at the Birchmere. Is there anything else to say? OH, WAIT. It costs NINETY-FIVE DOLLARS! The odd combination of someone who can afford this and someone who would actually go is why you'll find me and my friends hanging out at the Birchmere just to mock the people who go in.
NEXT MONDAY The Evens play Fort Reno. For Free. For those of you not familiar with Ian MacKaye, or his bands Fuagzi or Minor Threat, well, I'm sorry, but you're not in touch with your D.C. roots. Let Ian drop some knowledge on you at this show.
There is nothing better than a pair of jeans and a free movie. That's actually a lie, but while supplies last, you can get both. American Eagle is giving away free AMC movie passes to everyone who goes into the store and tries on jeans. That's right-tries on. You don't even have to buy the jeans. Though jeans in this weather might be hard to imagine, you'll be happy to have them in the overly icy movie theatre. Read More »
There are few things that can sweeten the bitter partisan rancor of Capitol Hill like free food. More specifically: hot dogs, sausages, and toppings served under large umbrellas in the capacious Rayburn House office building courtyard.
A corn dog landscape.
Apparently, July 19th is National Hot Dog Day and so the American Meat Institute served up lunch for various Hill folks to honor the solemn occasion. Folks seen chowing down or waiting in line to meet various baseball greats included staff from the offices of Representative John Lewis (D-GA), Representative Joe Schwartz (R-MI), Representative Jim Kolbe (R-AR), Senator Jim Bunning, (R-KY), and Representative Debbie Stabenow (D-MI) along with employees from the Department of Agriculture, the Pork Producers Council, the Snack Food Association, the House Appropriations Committee, the Australian Embassy, and a pack of judiciary staffers. And, of course, there were representatives of both the Center for American Progress (us) and the Heritage Foundation. Read More »
I love cities. I'm a huge fan of concrete, skyscrapers, taxis, subways, and always being just a few short strides from a deli.
The city of all cities, and my true love, is New York, where I grew up. And it's not just the concrete and taxis that allure me; it's the way the city is alive. The city is constantly buzzing with activity, and while there are plenty of dull bourgeoisie areas and glitzy tourist traps in Manhattan, they are counteracted by the sparkling mishmash of eclectic neighborhoods, offbeat off-Broadways plays, and unique personalities. Read More »
I am a lifelong resident of (the suburbs three miles outside) the District. Those of us who have spent summer after summer in this swamp acknowledge that day after day crammed onto subway trains and busses in biz-casual attire may have made us just a wee bit crankier than some. The some are those well-meaning, bright-eyed visitors to Washington, DC. They pour into the city year after year, with the heaviest stream from April through September. There is much to love about them: their positive impact on our local economy; their enthusiasm for our monuments, our history, and our politics; and their so very un-DC attitude about our nation's capital. But the truth is, as much as I've tried to appreciate them, for as long as I can remember, the bane of my summer existence has been tourists. Well, I guess "bane" is a bit harsh, but you see, the fact is, Tourists, you get in my way!
Here are some common traits I've noticed among the city's other kind of summer visitors.
• Obliviousness to the obvious. I hate stupid questions, and tourists have asked me some of the stupidest questions ever. Ever. Questions like "What stop is Union Station at?" will drive a man back to his tourist-free suburban neighborhood faster than you can say "Air and Space Museum." Call me a curmudgeon, but I'm simply not DC's best tour guide. No question.
• Politeness. As a lot of tourists are from the Midwest, it would make sense that they are also very polite and nice (sometimes to a fault), in contrast to many people here, who are jaded, tired, angry and pushy. Some of them don't even blink when you push them out of your way. What helpful, considerate folks to acknowledge that your destination is no doubt more important than theirs.
• They Block the Escalator. As someone who spent five years taking the Metro to school, I appreciate a nice, clear left side of the escalator that I can run down to catch a train. That being said, it annoys me to no end when there is some person, or worse still, group of people blocking the right side of the escalator. While an "Excuse me" will usually do for the average spacey Washingtonian, sometimes, a more stubborn or oblivious tourist will need a forceful shove, followed by a "Stand to the right, [expletive deleted]!" There's an effective way of enforcing Metro decorum.
• Matching T-Shirts=Church Group. Having matching T-Shirts is an effective, if creepy, way to keep track of a large group. I've noticed, however, that almost all of the shirts have the word "Jesus" somewhere on them. I'm not trying to hate or anything, but seeing a massive group of people with neon green "Jesus Loves Me" T-shirts in line for the Washington Monument can be a bit disconcerting.
My hometown, Buffalo, New York (yes, Buffalo) has some the best summer weather in the nation. The New York Times writes "Buffalo gets a glorious payback for its snowy winters (…) with three months of sunny, dry days with temperatures in the high 70s and low 80s." But leaving my rust-belt hometown to intern in this swampy, sweaty city means forgoing more than perfect weather. It means three months without Wegmans. Or so I thought.
Wegmans is Mecca for food enthusiasts. The average Wegmans is 130,000 square feet - three times the size of a typical grocery store. It is the one-stop destination for all your food needs. They sell pretentious organic potatoes from Provence beloved by BoBos everywhere and typically found at Whole Foods. They have a high quality and inexpensive generic brand that still manages to garner cachet, a la Trader Joes. And, most important, they sell CoCo Puffs and Pop Tarts - as every good neighborhood grocery store should. But what makes Wegmans unique is its je ne sais quoi quality the intense loyalty and pride it inspires in its shoppers. Wegmans, a privately owned and family-run company for 89 years, receives 7,000 letters a year from giddy customers. Yes, 7,000 customers are so enamored, so impressed, so damn in love with Wegmans that they feel compelled to sit down and write Danny Wegman, the company's CEO. (I must admit to having written one such letter myself after tasting a free sample of Wegmans goat cheese, served on a plump, dried apricot, drizzled with balsamic. It was heavenly.) Oh, and did I mention that Wegmans is open 24 hours? It comes as no surprise, then, that Fortune Magazine wrote last year that "in places like Rochester and Buffalo, the zeal for Wegmans often borders on kooky obsession." Color me kookily obsessed.
Why was Fortune writing about Wegmans? Well, young progressives, Wegmans was named in 2005 the #1 Best Company to Work For in America. This year they are #2. Their employees are as enamored with the company as are the customers. Maybe because they have healthcare…
Now, it would be awfully cruel of me to extol the virtues and fabulosity of Wegmans if there wasn't a Wegmans near you. There are 71 Wegmans in America, 50 of which are in Upstate New York. (There are three within a 10 mile radius of my home in Buffalo.) But wait, there are two in the greater Washington, DC area - both in Northern Virginia (NOVA). I personally recommend the Fairfax Wegmans, which boasts a 1,500 bottle wine shop. Fellow intern, Jill Hawkins, and I spent four hours there this past Saturday. (To Kick the Oil Habit, we drove in her Prius.) Buoyed by free samples, live Jazz music (yes, live) and tasteful ambiance, we enjoyed a positively awesome afternoon at Wegmans.
If food is your passion, Wegmans is your BFF. Go north, young man, and experience it for yourself.
Code Red is no longer a poorly chosen flavor of Mountain Dew. Today, a Code Red heat advisory has been issued to the DC area. Take cover all ye in business casual because you'll be wishing you were in one of those rooftop pools.
The Department of Homeland Security isn't the only agency with color-coding omnipotence. The Metropolitan Washington Council of Governments (MWCOG) also possesses this divine gift. However, unlike DHS, these warnings seem to be a) warranted and b) useful. Yet don't become complacent: both should inspire fear.
Yesterday we were in a "code yellow." This means that the air quality is "unhealthy for select groups." As these "select groups" don't seem to be fun ones like being a Mouseketeer or being in the He-Man Woman Haters Club, it's recommended that everyone stay inside on "code yellow" days to avoid finding out if you are "select" - the website offers no further guidance. I personally hate the hellish heat so I very well may be in one of the "select groups."
But for the rest of you, beware. The Code Red comes nigh and this time it is straight up "unhealthy." The MWCOG has suggestions which could have been divined by a five year-old but are worth mentioning all the same:
• Children should avoid being outside
• Even if you're healthy, don't be a hero. Put off that run for another day like all the rest of us.
• If you have any respiratory issues, today probably isn't the day to check out the view from the top of the Washington Monument
The recent heat wave has, in my mind, officially put an end to non-water-related activities in the sun. A cooling-off system is absolutely crucial to summer survival. But unless you live in a classy apartment building with a rooftop pool and a deck full of chaise lounges, you have to be creative in your search for swimming options.
Unfortunately, creativity sometimes involves breaking the rules. There are a few hotels in the D.C. area that offer pools to their hotel guests and to non-guests for a fee ($7-20 per person, per visit.) Someone got smart and realized there had to be a way around this. How hard could it be to fake a hotel guest identity? If you are willing to risk some minor stumbling blocks, not too hard and entirely worth it, is my conclusion.
A friend and I ventured to a nearby hotel in the Dupont area in search of relief on a scorching sunday afternoon. My friend was carefully following directions of a coworker who had been successfully and illegally attending the hotel pool all summer. We walked in what was labeled as the pool entrance to find two of the health club employees at the front desk. The plan was to sign a name from the top of the sign-in list, but standing in front of a nearly empty sign-in sheet, we encountered our first problem. My heart dropped as one of the employees asked, "what is your room number?" I panicked and my friend hesitantly said, after what seemed like 10 minutes of silence, "2115."
When the employee turned towards a computer screen, I knew it was the end. I wanted to come clean and tell them how sorry I was for attempting to cheat the system, how the heat was making me do crazy things, how all I wanted was a dip in their lovely pool. The woman responded, "2115...Goldenstein?" "Uh yeah, that's us. Goldenstein," my friend replied. "It seems you have already checked out. If you want, I can let the front desk know and they can just charge the credit card from your room with an extra $7 for the pool." As we are not complete delinquents, we quickly told the woman we had thought we were allowed to check out and sit by the pool until "our flight later that day." She was not budging. We apoligized for the confusion and left, a sad set of Goldenstein sisters.
I was ready to return to an air conditioned apartment, the second best solution to the heat exhaustion I was feeling. I had clearly underestimated the determination of my friend. "There has to be another way, this just isn't right," she said, ferociously scoping out the nooks and crannies of the hotel's landscape covered walls. Indeed, there was another entrance to the pool-the front entrance that the coworker must have frequented hundreds of times without hassle. We breezed by the empty gatehouse, signed a name from the top of the extremely full guest list as originally planned, and with a little bit of searching, found two empty chairs.
It took some time for me to feel assured hat we would not be embarrassingly found out as phony Goldensteins, but I was eventually able to relax and enjoy the record heat right-fully submerged in cool water. Having not been completely scarred from the failed first attempt, the illegal activity will continue later in the week with a moonlight swim and cocktail at the poolside bar.
The "Policy on the Rocks" Happy Hour series is a new series of events put on by the Roosevelt Institution in an effort to bring together students working in the D.C. area. The series, which began on June 28 (and will happen again on July 19, August 9, and August 22), takes place at Ventnor Sports Café of Adams-Morgan and includes half-priced appetizers and half-priced drinks if you can beat the bartender in "Rock, Paper, Scissors." The bar was recently the site of the Campus Progress Summer Kickoff, and is a great place to eat, drink, network, watch sporting events, and meet other people from the Roosevelt Institution.
Founded in 2004, the Roosevelt Institution is the nation's first network of progressive student-run think tanks. The Roosevelt Institution has over 40 established chapters and is currently organizing on ore than 120 college campuses across the country. The Roosevelt Institution publishes an annual journal, the Roosevelt Review, which showcases student policy research in various fields. The "Policy on the Rocks" Happy Hour series is part of a larger outreach initiative by the Roosevelt Institution national office to attract and organize college interns working in the District and throughout the nation through various events.
On August 2, the Roosevelt Institution will be holding its first Policy Expo in Washington, D.C., in which top students from around the nation will present recent policy research.
There they lie: the perfect summer black pants. They're not too thick but not see-through and not too long. That's a big deal--when you're 5'3 everything's too long. They fit like a glove-not too tight, but I don't swim in them either. These were the type of black pants that (especially in Washington) you can get away with wearing several times a week. Heck, they were even machine-washable.
My beloved black pants were the first casualty of the Campus Progress National Student Conference. Normally, manual labor is not required of me in my internship but in the days leading up to the conference, everyone was pitching in to get ready for the 1000 students descending on the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel. I was in the storage room here in the nerve center of the Campus Progress universe sorting t-shirts. As I bent down to lift the box, my perfect summer flats lost traction. Down into the splits Julie went.
Crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…and splits it was!
I'm not talking about a little tear that could be mended in the bathroom. No, this my friends was a big-girl tear. I took out the whole seam-this was one for the ages!
Think-fast Julie kicked in. It was at this time I thanked G-d for my 5'3 frame--a size XL shirt reaches my knees. A temporary solution, yes, but one permanent enough to get me to a store in time to blow fully 1/3 of my weekly stipend on new, slightly less fabulous, black pants.
So as I saunter around the sleepy post-conference world of Campus Progress in my casual Friday attire, I fear for Monday as I think longingly of the clothing that didn't make it. "Fear not," I remind myself, for the day of resurrection will come--as soon as I find my sewing machine!
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