A Capitol Obsession

I have a bit of an obsession with the US Capitol building.

This bit of an obsession makes me do strange things like sit next to the reflecting pool for approximately an hour a day (even in the biting cold), staring up at the majestic dome, sighing dramatically; or, in the context of an impassioned speech about my dreams of winning a senate seat, pointing at the Capitol (and directly at an armed Capitol guard) and screaming, "YOU'RE NEXT!" repeatedly until my brother said, "Listen to what you're saying, god damnit," and we took off down the street.

So you can imagine how excited I was when a visit to a U Street vintage store yielded this:

(click for details of necklace and my hand)

A Capitol building pendant. Surrounded by pink rhinestones. On a gaudy gold chain. "Was this actually made for me?" I asked the perplexed store owner as I handed over some cash.

It's a perfect souvenir to remind me of this city, and this building, that I adore, sometimes to a disturbing degree.

Photo Journal

My dad and youngest brother were in town this weekend, so we went and did predictable tourist-y things, visited a hilarious east coast sect of our family, discussed the benefits of house centipedes, and saw Greg Giraldo buying Haggen Dazs at the Lincoln Memorial. Not bad.

LOOK! It's the Washington Monument! Again!

Tall little bro and me.

Stunning architecture NEVER GETS OLD.

Yes, that would be Greg Giraldo walking away from an ice cream vendor.

Yes, that would be a tiger.

My dad ordered the special: "Two mini filets." And they were indeed mini.

Beautiful Ellicott City, Maryland!

Beautiful cousin in her beautiful new hat! (And me in an old one I found on her dresser.)

Brother in an alley!

My dad: "I HATE PEACE SIGNS." Me: "Umm...sorry?"

More beautiful cousins!

My dad spent most every night delivering rousing lectures about the myriad benefits of house centipedes (if you don't know what a house centipede is, please click here to learn, and if you don't know what kind of person spends every night delivering rousing lectures about house centipedes, please click here to learn). We declared October House Centipede Awareness Month:

Please feel free to participate.

And finally, my crowning achievement of the weekend--a vintage clutch I found in a Maryland antique store, made from the satin love letters sent to World War II soldiers:

I'm in love.

Hope you had a fantastic weekend too! Stay tuned for an epic Halloween contest!

DC Diary: Gelatinous Adventures on Capitol Hill

Preface: I apologize if you're someone who couldn't care less about American politics, but living in DC, politics has a way of seeping into your life. Sometimes, it almost mows you down in the street.

Yesterday, my brother Tona and I decided to take a tour of the Capitol. I wore black tights, a crisp pencil skirt, tasteful cardigan, and a hot pink trench coat. Tona asked me why I was so dressed up.

"Here's the plan," I said. "I'll catch Hillary Clinton's eye with the bright coat and then whip it off to reveal my professional garb underneath. Then she'll ask me to be her personal assistant." I told Tona he should dress nice too, just in case.

He laughed at me as he slipped on his sneakers. "Yeah, I'm sure that people on Capitol Hill tours get job offers all the time."

"You never know," I said, and I might have added "jackass." We left.

While we waited in line at the Capitol, Tona read a list of the prohibited items out loud, since I tend to carry a vast, strange, and sometimes dangerous assortment of things in my bag.

"No fireworks are allowed in the Capitol building."

"Duh."

"No food or drink."

"Duh."

"No liquids or gels."

"Ummm..." I reached into my bag and pulled out the loot from a recent visit to the Kiehls store: two heaping handfuls of sample-size tubes and packets and tubs of moisturizer, hair product, and body oils.

Tona put his head in his hands and sighed. "Why are you carrying around twelve pounds of gel?"

"I forgot!"

"Well, you have to throw it away."

"Hell no!" I cried. "Do you have any idea how much these free samples are worth??" I carefully rearranged the contents of my bag, placing the dangerous facial creams at the bottom and covering them with a protective layer of tampons, gum wrappers, and stale Craisins. Fifteen minutes later, we went through security. Success.

My secret weapon.

The tour itself was alright. The building is beautiful, of course, and our tour guide had no shortage of bad jokes and puns--"Capitol idea, sir!" But since this was the day McCain and Obama had heroically returned to the hill, and the government was in a mad scramble to save our country from economic collapse, and, you know, impending doom, we were eager to get passes to see the House and Senate in action. To get these passes, you have to go to the office of your state representative and ask nicely.

We headed toward the office of the honorable David Wu, and as soon as we entered the House office building we realized--this is where the action is. Important-looking people were running around, freaking out; I saw a young woman about my age, wearing a suit, clutching a briefcase, crying. Tona and I hid on the stairs to eavesdrop on a couple representatives throwin' down some impromptu bailout plan debate. (Choice quote: "Well, maybe AIG shouldn't have been such a DUMBASS.")

After getting lost in the dark maze of hallways upstairs, we were rescued by a chivalrous young intern (excellent choice, Rep. Buck McKeon!) and finally passed through the doors of David Wu's office.

"Hi," I chirped, trying to be louder than my pink coat, "we're from Oregon!" The receptionist was exceedingly friendly, showering us with house and senate passes, business cards, stickers, and tales of her former life in Oregon. She joined us in making fun of the guy from California working the other desk (hey, we had to), and we walked out beaming with state pride.

Tona stopped in the hallway a few steps from the door. "Should I ask them how to apply for an internship?" he asked, gesturing back toward our new friends. I told him, yeah, for sure, and sat down in a random but comfortable leather couch placed in the middle of the hallway while he popped back inside to get his information.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Finally, Tona came back out. He was laughing and shaking his head.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" I asked.

"They just interviewed me for an internship," he said. "Damnit! Why did I wear these shitty jeans??"

For the rest of the day we went back and forth between the House and the Senate, hoping to see some hot political action. Mostly, we stared at completely empty chambers save for one elderly congressman droning about how hard it was for his friend to buy a boat. There were a couple good speeches that actually related to the UNPRECEDENTED ECONOMIC CRISIS, but I guess the real dramz took place behind closed doors, hidden away from us meddlesome citizens.

Overall, I'd still call the day a smashing success. Sure, Tona's refusal to put on a damn pair of slacks may have cost him his dream job, and we spent approximately three hours going back and forth through increasingly grumpy security checkpoints in order to be spectators to...nothing, but our lurking around allowed us to see tons of famous (or...not) politicians. Here's part of the running list we kept in my notebook, along with some notes and observations:

• John Conyers--waved at us, causing me to shriek, "john conyers just waved at us!"
  
• Ron Paul--wiping spittle from his lip. Hmm...
  
• John Murtha--Santa?
• Henry Waxman--surprisingly short.
  
• Harry Reid--seemed a little too relaxed, all things considered.
  
• Barney Frank--sassy.
• Charlie Rangel--could use a blowout.
  
• John Tester--wearing a denim button-down (inspired by Rumi?)
• Chris Dodd--impressively bouncy and voluminous hair (must ask what conditioner he uses!)
• Rahm Emanuel--HOTTIE (my brother thought so too.)
  

Meet my new desktop background.

My Internet-Free Life, Courtesy of Comcast

As you may have noticed, I haven't been posting lately. This is because my internet has been on the fritz, and by "on the fritz," I mean it works for approximately five minutes, or until you are about to post/save/send something important, and then it dies. In other news, CURSE YOU TO HELL, COMCAST! I was trying to tell my brother earlier that we should think of Comcast's horrific customer service as a comforting taste of home, kind of like a care package from mom filled with cookies and candy and exorbitant fees for services that don't work, but I fizzled out mid-sentence because I couldn't make myself believe it.

A rude repair person is supposed to arrive on Wednesday, at least three hours after the scheduled appointment time, for our convenience.

My boyfriend and my brother Devin visited this weekend. Here's a smattering of snapshots from our internet-free life:

Oregon Paleocastor, represent!

p.s. Click here for a sweet rundown of titillating (OK, not at all) facts about Wasilla, Alaska! Also, a super huge hint about where I'm spending my days as an intern.

SENATOR!

Today, on my way to work, I stepped into the crosswalk on 17th street. I can't be sure if I had a walk signal, because it was 9AM, so I can't be sure if I was wearing a shirt (my memory and common sense don't kick in until 11), but nevertheless, I noticed, in the nick of time, that a black SUV was barreling toward me. I leaped back onto the sidewalk and began to wave my fist in melodramatic protest, directing my most intimidating glare at the offending passengers, one of whom happened to be Joe Biden:

Yes, seated in the middle of a group of Agent Smith lookalikes was the VP hopeful himself. His white hair flowed in the breeze, our eyes met, and I froze, fist raised, screeching something shockingly, finally accurate: "SENATOR!"

Then I almost got run over by his police escort.

Later, I bought some badass shoes to celebrate:

It was a good day.

(Shoes--BCBGirls)