Photos and Words of Patrick Calder

I live in Washington, DC with 1 cat named Pixel, 6 cameras, 3 computers, 158 movies, 286 books, and 1 bowling pin. I own the Design Foundry and pretend to be a graphic designer by day.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 3 years old. Opinions change. Tastes change. Everything changes. I may still agree with or like this, or I may not. But everything is kept up here for archival purposes.

Boobies! / July 10, 2005

Boobies! All around me, tonight.
Went out to the club again. No bikinis this week, but do you really need them when you have women in mesh tops dancing under spot lights? Between the jiggling boobs and the thumping base line, I think my brain is mush.
Not so bad as to not enjoy the walk home though. Hookers! Saturday night at 3 am, and the prostitutes are in full bloom. The K Street side-road, which is normally cordoned off on Saturday nights to avoid just this, was wide open and packed with vehicles. Must have been 15 cars there, waiting to pick up women. The cops had apparently chased them down a few blocks, from around my apartment, where they’d been dwelling lately.
The way they dress… it’s so outrageously… hooker-ish. Clothes that Madonna would have found trashy. Wobbling on heels that could be used to help change tires. I know some of them are also probably wobbling because they’re men, and don’t have the practice that their female counterparts do. I passed one such ambiguous lady tonight. She easily stood seven feet tall. About 5 inches of that was heels. Wearing a skin-tight white dress in the shape of a sideways V. Some kind of big hair. I really try not to get too many details… I don’t really want to risk getting into a conversation with them.
IMG_3718.jpg I don’t know how they do it. My feet are killing me and I was wearing comfortable sandals all day. Walked the full route through the National Arboretum. To misquote Hamlet (again)… “Trees… Trees… Trees!”. Beautiful place to get away from it all. I’ll give it that. Not quite the exotic beauty of the Botanical Gardens, but a much nicer ‘space’. If you’re gonna exercise anyway, I can think of worse places than a free national park.
Post arboretum, we made the … interesting … choice to go see a movie at Union Station. I’d been there before, and knew what to expect. But the experience seemed to leave Keir somewhere between bewildered and pissed-off. This theatre is probably the most ghetto in DC. I’m not being insulting to anyone in particular… there’s just no better way to describe it. Not only do people talk to to the screen, but they make lewd suggestions to the characters. Behind us, people were talking on the phone. In front of us, making out. Someone at the front of the theatre was trying to tape the movie with a cell phone which insisted on beeping every 30 seconds. About halfway through the film, a fight broke out and carried itself out into the hall. When half the theatre followed them out, only about two-thirds of those people came back. And most of them were booted out in the next few minutes. Can’t tell ya much about the movie. I got the plot well enough, but under those kinds of conditions, you can’t really get a feel for it, or get the mood of the piece. Or even how well the actors were doing. *shrug* not a movie I was desperate to see anyway.
Boobies!
I just like saying that. It’s fun.

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