Red Nose

Hardcore Sunday

After the Nats game on Sunday, we decided to grab dinner at a Silver Spring institution, the Quarry House Tavern. How shall I describe the Quarry House?

One word pretty much says it: dive.

I had been to Quarry House exactly once before in my life; it was 30 years ago and I went with my boyfriend to drink beers. The place has not changed one bit.

Well, the layout, decor, and ambiance have not changed. It's still down a flight of steps, in a dark, slightly dank basement, with two weird, long, narrow rooms in a sort of an J shape. So I cool with that.

When we drove past, we noticed about half a dozen young men loitering around; a couple were wrassling with amps and other band stuff.

We should have taken the hint.

As we clambered down the steps, we noticed a sign on the door: HARDCORE SUNDAY!!

We should have taken the hint.

We wove through the first room -- no tables for four -- and made our way to the back room. A young woman, beguilingly decked out in a black vest over a black bra, drawled beerily, "Are you guys here to see the band?"

"We just want something to eat," I replied, because I wanted to avoid a cover charge, should there be one.

"Oh that's cool, you can sit anywhere," she slurred, waving vaguely toward a table.

We grabbed a table and ordered food and drink -- beers, burgers, BLTs, ice water, coke. The food part of the menu was two pages; the beer part of the menu was six pages.

Okay!

It slowly dawned on us that:

1. We were the only people over 30 (and well over 30 at that!).
2. We were the only people not wearing all black.
3. We were the only people who did have many types of bodily decorations.

Hardcore Sunday. Hmm. We should have taken the hint.

My sister and I located the rest room -- it was behind the biggest amp right by the band... niche. We had to navigate around band... members... and squeeze between the amps to get into the bathroom, but it was well-lit and clean and covered in interesting graffiti.

For example, over the sink:

CALL YOUR MOM!!

On the wall:

For 38 years I never had an orgasm. Then I met Keith.

Way to go, Keith!

Anyway, the food was delish. Really, really good -- my BLT was just about the best I've had in recent memory. So we were lulled.

The crowd started to congregate in the room. Mostly guys, mostly skinny, all in black. The women were also all in black, with pale faces and red lipstick.

Oh, and one of them had a two-year old with her.

Yes. A baby.

In a bar.

Then the standup comedian started. He was very very very... wrong. Extremely poor taste. Outrageously politically incorrect. Scatalogical. Filthy.

And fucking hilarious.

We should have taken the hint.

Right after the comedian came the next band.

The first, uh, chord? Opening note? How can I describe the crushing loudness? It made my teeth vibrate. It made my eyeballs retreat into my brain. It made my feet curl up and my butt clench. It was the loudest thing I have ever heard, and I have been to a John McLaughlin Mahavishnu Orchestra concert!

I could not distinguish instruments or voices or anything. My sister said that the... lyrics... for the first song consisted of "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" and so on in a similar -- okay, identical -- vein.

Meanwhile, the crowd migrated to the very front of the room, where young men took turns running full tilt into each other and bouncing off the walls.

Literally. I am not even kidding.

We could not talk; it was stupid to even try. We laughed instead. When the first... song... was over, we cracked up. We were so out of our element! God bless you, kids; enjoy it. Turn the amps up to 11, slam dance to your heart's content, get it while you can.

But please find a babysitter next time, okay?

My brother and sister-in-law arrived during the second song. Now, my brother's idea of hard rock is Buddy Holly and the Crickets. Okay, maybe the Rolling Stones.

That was our cue to pay our check, tip our hats to the next generation, and bug out to Tastee Diner.

Post Playoffs Love List

I'm still a little sad that my Capitals got beat down by the Team Who Shall Not Be Named on Wednesday, but there are many many things that I'm loving this Friday.

• I love my team and I love my fellow fans. When two minutes remained in the game and it was clear that a comeback was not in the cards, the entire crowd rose and gave the team a standing ovation for the rest of regulation, through the traditional team handshake, and through the team's raised-stick salute to the fans. It was such a good season, so full of great games. I admit that I got a wee bit misty. See you in the fall, boys!
• I love that it is 8:00 at night and it is still light outside.
• I love New York in June, how about you?
• I love frozen custard, vanilla with chocolate sprinkles.
• I love azaleas in full bloom, especially when they're big and wild rather than trimmed and sculpted.
• I love Sean Connery as James Bond.
• I love penne with sausage.
• I love turning off the alarm clock when I go to bed on Friday night.
• I love getting checks in the mail.
• I love not having to travel for the foreseeable future.
• I love a Gershwin tune; how about you?
• I love Ted.com - "TED" stands for "Technology, Entertainment, Design." The videos on the site are quite wonderful, ranging from scientific inventions, to brilliantly illustrated research on social issues, to witty talks, to wonderful music. Check this one out and go into your weekend smiling.

Sleightly Amazing

Joe showed me this rather wonderful video tonight. It combines two of my most favorite things: sleight of hand magic and Sting's music. Sit back, relax, and prepare to be amazed.

Grey, I Mean, Gray, Friday Love List

Do you ever wonder about the actual correct spelling of "grey"? I mean, is it "grey" or "gray"? Or do I have too much time on my hands?

Never mind. Mr. Google told me that "gray" was the American spelling and "grey" is the British spelling. The best comment was this one:

"Gray" is a color. "Grey" is a colour.

I'm easily amused.

Anyway, it's Friday afternoon, and it's very gray and sort of drizzly, and I've finished everything I have to finish. Time for a Love List!

In spite of the weather and general Novemberishness, I love:

• Having season tickets to the Caps. Tonight's prize: a Bruce Boudreau bobblehead! Let's go Caps!
• Rounding the corner to climb up to our seats and seeing Joe sitting there.
• Coming home to the smell of dinner being cooked. Mmmm.... sausages....
• Gingersnap lattes.
• Thanksgiving.
• Having the day after Thanksgiving off.
• Talking to SonnyeBoy.
• Hearing "President-Elect Obama".
• Grapes and brie cheese.
• Crackers and soup.
• Fleur de Sel caramels from Trader Joe's. Get 'em now! 
• Turning the alarm off before I go to bed on Friday night.
• Jim and Pam.
• C.C. Adcock and Lafayette Marquis -- the band that played at Rene and Arlene's engagement party on True Blood. After hearing them on the show, I immediately looked them up and downloaded their album.
• Watching the Christmas decorations going up at the Bishop's House.
• That I can probably make a break for it in 15 minutes.
• Anesthetic lozenges.
• The feeling of relief I had when I admitted to myself that NaNoWriMo was actually NaNo-NoGo this year.

Ten Things That Put Me In A Good Mood, And One Thing That Doesn't

I originally titled this entry "Ten Sad Things." Then I decided that was too much of a goddamn bummer and I changed it. But I can't let this day pass without acknowledging that I am kind of down in the dumps.

See, I spent the afternoon with Mom. Every time I see her, she is just noticeably a little more frail, a little more stooped, a little more defeated.

Today she was quite angry at the poor nurse, who had noticed that Mom had worn the same outfit for  three days in a row. The nurse inquired about it, because this behavior is indicative of depression (especially in the elderly), and Mom completely misinterpreted it as criticism of her apparel. Mom got highly insulted and withdrew into herself, but she stewed over it and stewed over it and stewed over it. It took me quite awhile to talk her off the ledge.

I told her about my meeting with Sandy the Real-Estate Agent and Ron the Renovator, and she got very weepy about selling her house. Again. "I have nothing of my own," she said. Again. It really is sad that we have to do this, and divide up her things, and give the money to the assisted living home, it's the saddest thing for her to go through, here at the edge of her life. But there's no other choice, and finally she said, "Well, I just have to face it. I just have to do it. I just have to."

But if I keep thinking about this, I won't stop crying, so here are ten things that should help me not cry.

1. The weather is incredible for this time of year. It is lovely and warm and not humid at all, and the sun is shining everywhere, and we have to sleep with a blanket on the bed! Unheard of in DC in August!
2. I finally caved and bought Gus from Nichol's Pillowmonster store. I think he is the cutest guy!
3. We got our second $50 rebate from Verizon. Woo! Where am I gonna spend that kind of money?
4. Olympics!
5. Joe found and bought Allan Sherman's One Hippopotami on iTunes. I loved those funny songs when I was a kid. My older sister bought the albums and I played them over and over and over, and memorized most of them. As soon as Joe fired it up, I sang right along.
6. Hockey season is soon, soon, soon...
7. I gave blood this morning, which always makes me feel good and increases my t-shirt collection. My arm kinda sprung a leak while I was relaxing in the canteen, but the nice nurses fixed me right up.
8. Randy Newman has a new album out.
9. Joe's hugs. They are like salvation.
10. Rita's frozen custard. Oh hell yes.