December 30, 2004
2004: The year in whining, Part I
Once again we find ourselves shopping for bubbly, digging out a years' worth of receipts and feeling guilty that we've only heard about half the CDs listed by the better critics as the years' best. It's Erev New Years' Eve, so now is the time for that always-annoying end-of-year wrap-up post. Here goes:
January: The year started, as most years did, with a wicked hangover and a day of lounging about. DCSOB '04 started out with In and Out predictions, apeing El WaPo's annual tradition. In retrospect, I was more wrong than right -- I still don't have BBC America, we didn't have that warm a year and hats with earflaps never caught on the way Uggs did -- but I did end up getting the flu and seeing the Carlsonics.
The first month of the year was also the coldest, with temperatures seldom topping 20 degrees for weeks on end. If you lived here, you knew that. If you didn't, I wasn't sheepish about complaining endlessly about it. But while the cold kept the town shivering and pining for other, more southerly swamps, the cold snap paved the way for DCSOB's Shining Moment of Outdoor Activity: Curling on the C&O Canal.
Other events: The Wonkette launch and the first signs of her soul-crushing ignorance, Caucusmania, here and elsewhere and liberal leave.
February: I don't remember much about February, perhaps because I drank the tap water. There was some complaining about newspaper ads, forthcoming panda sculptures and The Passion, which spurred this blog's first flame war (I was so proud).
Also, I went to a party in a building called "The Hobbit House" and drank myself silly during or near Valentines' Day. That caused a hangover of biblical proportions and a solemn vow to stay away from vodka. Yep, that one lasted.
March: Blessed is the month that I discovered that a few haikou make for an excellent post when you have absolutely nothing to say.
I discovered Rehnquist panties. You read that right.
Also, Metro conked out in the first of many disasters in 2004, geothermal science in Cleveland Park and guest bloggers, who added their perspective while I was in London, where the trains are even less reliable than they are here but the beer is better and the accents are sexier.
April: I arrived back in D.C. to find a city on the brink: an Adams Morgan crime wave, Air America missing from the D.C. airwaves and Wonkette still unable to spell. The escalator at the J-squeezy closed for repairs, leaving commuters both cynical and thunder-thighed.
Also, some people went to the mall to defend abortion rights or something. I had to work.
In ironic news, Vanilla Ice played a gig at a school for the deaf.
All told, April seems to have been a decent month, with more Reagan jokes than bitter missives on people who piss me off. Then again, it's the last month before the ol' seasonal allergies kick in.
May: I saw Dubya's mom! Seriously!
The south attempted to rise again, but the drunk NoVans made it only as far as the Black Cat. I nearly got my teeth kicked in at Kramers, of all places, but I got extremely lucky and avoided pissing off a couple of drunk Republicans only because they turned out to be Democrats. I need to learn a little diplomacy.
Who can remember May without mentioning Washingtonienne? For about a week, everyone knew someone who knew someone who knew her real identity. She was once the talk of the town and now she's just another ho who can't get a good seat at Sake in Adams Morgan. Oh, how the skanky have fallen.
Oh, and the suburbs were COMPLETELY OVERRUN BY HORRIBLE BUGS. I saw the first of many in Falls Church, and found it necissary to send a cameraphone picture of it for posting on the blog. Three weeks later, I'd be vacuuming them out of my car and trying to keep them off my shoes when I entered my apartment. Nasty, but harmless.
Posted by rj3 at December 30, 2004 2:10 PM
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