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.

Weekend / September 24, 2008

Went out with some friends over the weekend. Fuck… I actually pretty much spent the whole weekend with these friends. But we started the weekend on Friday night with dinner (yay Sushi!). My friends had relatives in town, and the goal for the night was a little after-dark site-seeing. Up through Dupont Circle, across to Adams Morgan, and down to U Street. Stopped at the Saloon for a few hours, which was packed. The Saloon is a low-tech bar. All beer. No mixed drinks. No hard stuff. And… well… no space. But at Doug’s suggestion, I ordered a Maibok beer. Would love to say something eloquent about it, but they all still taste like failed chemical experiments, to me. Did try a sip of someone else’ beer; something much darker, which had a much more subtle taste. About 2 a.m., we hurried over to DC9 before last call, and very bad dancing to bad English pop music. And someone handed me something that tasted very good, which always makes me paranoid. They don’t tell me ’til the end of the night that it was just a Malibu Sprite. LOTS of Sprite, very little rum. By about quarter to 3, I left to catch the last train home. The party apparently went back to Adams Morgan for the obligatory 3 a.m. Big Slice.

bubble(gum) headThe next day was a party/gathering, to celebrate the arrival of the previously mentioned relatives. Plenty of people I knew, though in general a different group of people than normally show up to these parties. Probably the most surprising-but-happy person to see was Sarah, who didn’t even dash out as quickly as she usually does. Convinced her to fix me a drink at some point. Had to laugh, when after letting me try hers as a test, she proceeded to hand me what obviously was a watered-down version or the same thing. (Vodka and Mountain Dew) Just SUGAR with a little bit of kick. Spent most of the night actually talking to the guests-of-honor. Gave up on the bus, and passed out on the couch about 3 a.m., (where, of course, I lay talking with someone for at least another hour).

Chicago Style PartyTook off in the morning, before most of the people woke up. Needed to shower and offload some photos. Passed out in the middle of those things, and was awoken by the same friends asking if I was still up for another photo excursion, this one to the National Arboretum. Short trip, due to a late start. But always a nice getaway. Followed up with dinner and … something I can’t remember. (Fucking senility). Anyway… again went home while I still could. Work calls, and my friends were sick of me.
National ArboretumAs for the alcohol, the only other experiment was last night, at the final Cocksucker Tuesday, where someone brought a wine called “Werewolf”. While I can’t say anything good about it, (it was another red, tastes-like-feet thing), something I’ve been bitching about finally made it’s way through all the fat in my head. I keep saying these drinks smell like 7th-grade chemistry experiment. And while I was sipping the Werewolf, I remembered that most of those experiments involved some kind of alcohol, (albeit not the kind you normally drink).
Duh.

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