For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you know that yesterday was a fabulous Monday for me. For those of you who don’t, let me explain.
Yesterday was the opening day game for the Washington Nationals baseball team. The game was at 3:05 pm. “Wow… that’s perfect for people with 9-5 jobs!” … uhh syke. Luckily, my job is not your typical 9-5 thanks to a little thing I like to call “flex hours”.
Our flex hours are pretty common. They allow you to change your hours from the normal 9-5 (actually it’s 9-6 but I’ll just use 9-5 for the purpose of the example) to other hours like 8-4, 7-3, 10-6, etc. I interpreted this to mean, “Dude… I can come in at noon and stay till 8 pm! Fucking crucial!” The latest the flex hours start is 10 am… needless to say I’ve completely taken advantage of the flex hours and bended them to meet my extended sleeping needs. But hey, I’m getting in my 8 hours! (Most of the time anyways)
I showed up to work at noon and took off for the game at 2 pm. It was the best Monday maybe ever. Juicy also took off a few hours of work and came with me since I had two tickets. The only reason I got these tickets is because my dad gets season tickets but wasn’t able to take off any work (it’s big time busy season right now); but I’m not an accountant (thank God) so I jumped (literally) on the chance to go to opening day.
[I'm adding this next part in b/c it's too good to leave out]
Normally we have a parking pass so we can drive and park near the stadium. For this game my dad gave up the parking pass to the other two people using our other tickets to go to the game. So we have no parking pass. My dad and brother tell us to take metro (subway… whatever you call it). I hate metro. With a passion. I passionately hate metro. Juicy, being my best friend and being awesome, also hates metro. On our way driving to the metro station (we didn’t know what else to do) we’re talking about how much metro sucks and how long its gonna take and how the hell are we gonna find parking in the middle of the day; just your basic bitching really.
Then we get there and not only could we not find parking… we couldn’t even find the damn parking lot. In our genius heads we had decided to go to a metro station closer to our destination so that we would only have to be on metro for a short period of time. But that means we were both completely unfamiliar with this metro station. We start to get very frustrated; time ticking away. I announce that I have something we could, ahem, smoke. Two pm on a Monday… and she’s all for it. She’s already had two beers at lunch. I love this girl. So we do.
Right after, Juicy looks at me and says, “Lets just drive there.” I think, Brilliant! Then I come to my senses and ask if she knows where it is. She says no. We sit and think for a second. Juicy blurts out, “Maybe the address is on the tickets!” I dive into my purse, grab the tickets and hand one to Juicy so we can both scan them looking for an address. No luck. Juicy then proclaims, “Oh I know how to get there, don’t worry just start driving.” Ummmmm hmmmm.
There are many problems with this. 1) She’s totally lying. She has no idea where to go. 2) Nationals Park, although gorgeous, is in Southeast DC… literally in the middle of Anacostia. Non-DCers might not know what that means. I’m going to compare it to Compton. Anacostia is the DC version of Compton. I would not recommend driving or hanging around Anacostia… especially if you’re a little white girl. 3) With no parking pass, we have no idea where we are going to park… in Anacostia… where someone will probably break into my beautiful GiGi or steal her. 4) My laptop is in my car. 5) I have a whole closet in my car. 6) I have a huge purse with my checkbook and some credit cards in it (I switch purses a lot) in my car. 7) Landrovers stick out in Anacostia. 9) White girls in Landrovers blasting rap music really stick out in Anacostia. 10) We don’t have any weapons… or mace or anything except for stilettos to beat a potential mugger with. We are helpless, blond, snotty, designer wearing, ticket holding girls. Oh yeah and we’re kinda blazed. (I had to skip the #8 b/c it made a smiley face with sunglasses on… see 
I tell Juicy this. She says that we should just valet the car in front of the stadium. I jump in my seat and turn to face her, “THEY HAVE VALET!?!?” I think I scared her, “Oh hahah nooo I was saying it would be cool if they did.” I pout and say it’s a damn good idea. Then Juicy has a “duh” moment and says, “Uh, why don’t we use your navigation and put in the metro stop at the park?” Such amazing intelligence. I put it in; it works. She says maybe the metro station there has a parking garage. Good thinking. I agree that driving is the best bet (I really hate metro) and believe that we’ll be able to find somwhere semi-safe to park. All the other worries are forgotten and we head to the ghetto.
We actually found a parking garage right next to the stadium to park in so that was lucky. It was $30 though and I only had $15. Juicy had $1… so helpful. I tried to talk my way through that one but, it’s pretty obvious… the garage attendant just wants my money. He tells me to park, go to an ATM and bring him the $$ before we go to the game; or he cant promise what will happen to my car. Great. Just great. Now Juicy and I are walking around Anacostia looking for an ATM. Really safe.
While waiting to cross the road we “met” some interesting characters; drug dealers I think they’re called. Very typical looking, coulda been in a movie. They whistled at our asses and said, “daaaayyyuum you hot”. Ugh the grammar makes me shudder. I replied, “Yeah, we know.” Juicy completely ignored them which was probably a good move. Then they heckled us for tickets and invited us to party with them until finally the light changed and we raced across the street. The same thing happened when we had to cross the street to get back. Like they forgot that whole episode had already happened. Idiots.
On our way back to the garage I tell Juicy that if I was a black girl, the black (drug dealer) with the red backwards hat would have been totally my type. She stares at me in disgust. “I know!” I explain, “That’s why I thank God every day that I’m white. My taste in men is awful! If I had been born a black girl; I would have loved guys like that.” Juicy starts to see where I’m going with this, “Uhhh yeah it’s a really good thing you’re white. You do like your men a lil ghetto.” I ponder this for a moment, “Holy shit, if I was black I’d probably have at least 5 kids by now!” Juicy adds, “Yup… and all from different baby daddy’s.”
Us in unison, “Eww. Thank God I’m/Your white.”
Our conversations are incredible.
Finally we give the garage guy the money and turn the other corner and behold… Nationals Stadium. It’s gorgeous. Anacostia doesn’t deserve it. It’s sad really, Anacostia has so much potential: They have a big pretty river… it’s in DC…. now they have a stadium. That’s all I can think of right now. Other than those things it’s a total wasteland. No offense, but it’s just on the wrong side of the river. And I normally stay away. Except on game day of course.
Here’s a very small Anacostia example…
Before the stadium
After the stadium
Before the stadium
After the stadium
Waterfront... and gorgeous
Ok last picture
Anyways… it’s a very scary place with bars on windows or boarded up windows and if I had wanted crack I’m pretty sure I could have scored some in less than 5 seconds. When I first starting driving at 16 my dad told me, “If you’re ever on 395 and you see signs for Anacostia, you’re going the wrong way and you need to turn around… but don’t turn around in Anacostia, find somewhere else to turn around. Do not go into Anacostia.” Because of his words I basically just stay away from 395 altogether. Even to this day I’m pretty clueless when it comes to 395. I only know it goes to Anacostia, and I know I don’t wanna be there. One time in highschool bff and I were trying to find a club downtown and ended up in Anacostia around midnight on a Saturday. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
[Ok back to original writing]
The game was fab. We hardly watched any of it but I got some amaaazing people watching in. We drank a ridiculous amount of Miller Light. We tried to sweet talk our way into club seats. The “bouncer” guy told us to come back next game and he’d let us in (opening day was sold out). The Nat’s almost coulda possibly won after a two run homer in the 9th. But… of course… they lost. 9-8… Not a bad game.
After the game we went to a bar/restaurant at the mall to meet with Juicy’s new boy toy turned possible boyfriend. Two raspberry martini’s in I decide I have to have a fedora and I have to have it now. I stand and announce that I’m going to Urban Outfitters to buy a fedora. Boy toy looks at me like I may have lost it but Juicy’s used to me doing stuff like this. She gives me her credit card and tells me to buy her something awesome that she’ll love. I say Yay; and off I go.
I’m drunk at this point btw. The mall closes in 30 minutes and the last time I went into Urban to buy “one” thing… well, I didn’t leave with only one thing. This is why I think I probably have a shopping problem: When I walked into Urban Outfitters, I got high just by looking around at the clothes. Yeah.
The fedora falls to the back of my mind and I start picking things I love off of tables and racks barely looking at price tags. I get to the back of the store and see a fedora… for some reason a very faint bell begins ringing in my head. I pause to contemplate the ringing. Then came the “AhA!” moment and I pick up every fedora I see and take all my stuff to the register. I demand that the sales guy help me decide which fedora to get. I put on every fedora for this guy and we narrow it down to two: The same style, one’s black and one’s brown. He actually told me I was too blond for the black one but I liked it. Sales guy criticism only goes so far in my book.
They don’t have the brown one in my size and I mentally say “HA!” to the sales guy and decide to buy the black one. He rings up all my stuff… if I hadn’t been drunk I would have had a panic attack. But I was drunk, so I just whip out my credit card, flip my hair a bit and tell him to hold the brown fedora for me when they get it in my size b/c I will be coming back to buy it.
Cut to this morning.
I wake up around noon. Exhausted. Shower and start to get ready. I see a huge Urban Outfitters bag in the corner of my room. I have a small shopping flashback. Oh no. I rummage through the bag to see what I bought…
Before I continue I have to point this out. The necklace I bought, although it’s freagin awesome and I love it, is an initial necklace. At the time of my purchase I did not realize this at all and just got the first one I saw; with the initial B on it. What does B stand for??? Hell if I know. I’m an idiot though, I know that. I’m gonna say it stands for BAMF. Or possibly, “This is what you get when you Binge drink.” Maybe it should just stand for Bad decision, or Big mistake. The possibilities are endless really.
There’s more. Urbanoutfitters.com doesn’t have the other stuff I bought listed =( so I’ll just tell you about it. I got a new brown purse/clutch, a black vest that has a tuxedo front, a bottle-opening silver ring, a black racerback tank top that says Broke is the New Black (that was for Juicy but she said it had negative energy and couldn’t wear it. So I’m keeping it), and of course… my fedora. I think that’s all. I think. Unfortunately, this is the only pic I have of the fedora.
Please don’t ask what I’m doing… it’s kind of a long story. I really don’t think I could have pulled off that look on my face sans fedora. They just make you feel super bad ass. Even though I spent half a paycheck at Urban, I think I’m gonna go back and get the brown one too. I’m also going to return the black vest. I might return some other stuff but I have to try it all on first. OH AND I got earrings. Forgot about those.
See… that’s why I try to stay away from the mall. I fuckin love that hat though.
