behold what obama hath wrought

It begins...

Don't get me wrong: I'm all for DC state rights, DC congressional representation, the DC quarter... and all things DC, really. I love this city. It's my home away from home.

Literally.

And I'm all for Obama and just as excited as the next guy. As far as I'm concerned, Jan. 20 can't get here quickly enough! It's the day I've spent the last 8 years waiting for.

But lately, things seem to be getting more than a little out of hand.

Could it be the $7,000 inaugural apartment rentals on craigslist? Or Pepsi's painfully transparent "Yes You Can" ads?

Nope. That's just capitalism at work. Greed, Opportunism, and Co-Opting = The American Way, right?

Is it the weekend gossip buzz surrounding our Commander in Chief-to-be and Mayor Adrian Fenty hitting up Ben's Chili Bowl on U Street?



Nah, that's just bad ass. Especially since the man paid for his hot dog (yes, DC residents, I'm well aware that it's called a half-smoke, or whatever, but a hot dog is a hot dog is a hot dog (except when it's a Polish sausage)).

The fact that all bridges connecting DC to Arlington will be shut down for vehicular traffic, and residential parking for much of the District is assured to be a 4-day horrorfest?

Well, yes, that undeniably sucks. But it's bureaucracy at its best (or evil worst (you say tomato...)), and therefore not at all surprising.

How about the Ikea mock Oval Office being set up in Union Station?

Hmm... not that strange, all things considered, but when you factor in the mock motorcade complete with furniture strapped to a limo and some Suburbans? Yeah, we're definitely getting warmer...

Oh, and on top of that, Inauguration Day is on Twitter and Facebook?!??

Yes. Most definitely out of hand.

shopping is a feeling

Ask David Bryne if you don't get it.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to process Obama's inaugural opening prayer pick. And I'm failing to do so. Which is fine by me, because it's not something I want to move past.

Because it's wrong.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, go google it and educate yourself.

So much for a "brand new bright Obama day," ugh, so disappointing...



Here's some of what I plan to have blaring at full volume in my headphones to drown out the opening prayer on inauguration day:







"You don't have the balls to be a queer."

Amen, Ben Weasel. Amen.

if i wanted to write about myself in the third person, i would have developed a god complex.

So, I'm incredibly fortunate that my friend Melinda is the editor of an awesome luxury lifestyle/dwelling consumer magazine, Las Vegas Home + Design, and wonder of wonders, she actually lets me freelance for her.

However! The caveat is that sometimes she wants to also run my "quirky bio" on her contributors page.

Which means I have to write about myself.

Which = Not So Awesome.

And the upcoming issue is one of those times. So I took a stab at it...

As often as she daydreams about a return to the West Coast, Lisa Brown has recently determined that she made her way to the nation's capital for a reason: Namely, to be present for the inauguration of Barack Obama. It's the first moment of history in her lifetime of which she's found herself genuinely ecstatic to be a part. And if you happen to find yourself in the District Jan. 19, keep an eye out for her celebrating Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in style, sipping a beverage of the alcoholic variety on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

The verdict?

Rejected. Color me surprised.*

Take 2:

When she's not juggling editorial deadlines, which is next-door to never, Lisa Brown spends her time capturing random snapshots with her trusty camera and explaining obscure novels to strangers. Her steadfast companion and partner in crime is a chocolate lab / border collie mix named Lindy (tip o' the hat to Charles Lindbergh and his eponymous variation of swing dance). Unfortunately, the canine in question is somewhat agoraphobic,** which makes morning and evening walks something of a production.

Still waiting to see if that one cuts the mustard...


*If you do not immediately notice the sarcasm that is literally dripping off that sentence, you do not know me. At all.

**No lie. True story.