Heaven is a Place on Earth

For all of you cynics out there, heaven DOES exist and it has manifested itself in the District as Ben's Chili Bowl.


First, I'll give you a little history. Ben's was founded by Ben & Virginia Ali in 1958 and it remains at its original location of 1213 U Street NW. The building which is home to Ben's was built in 1911 and was originally a silent movie theater. Ben's is known for its half-smokes (half pork/half beef hot dogs), chili-dogs, and milkshakes. Bill Cosby and Chris Tucker are frequent celebrity customers. In fact, a sign is posted on the milkshake machine which states that Cosby is the only customer who is allowed to eat at Ben's for free.

When you step into BCB, you are greeted by an overflow of hungry customers, the smell of delicious French fries, and the pleasant beat of Reggae music accompanied by singing employees. Once you finally make it past the door, you rush over to the end of the line which extends to the back of the restaurant. Here, you stand and wait your turn to reach the counter where you will order your BCB feast.

Here's a birds eye view from the back of the restaurant. Take a look at the line:



While waiting in line, you're very busy. You must: a. protect at all costs your precious spot from drunk hungry people and b. read the of culinary work of art that is BCB's menu.

How about the Bill Cosby's Original Chili Half Smoke?
"Our signature dish! Experience the Chili Half-Smoke, originally made famous by Ben’s in 1958 and a favorite of Mr. Cosby’s since the early 60’s. We put this 1/4lb. half pork and beef smoked sausage on a warm steamed bun and top it with mustard, onions and our spicy homemade chili sauce. There are few culinary delights better at any price. Want it well done? Have yours split and grilled on request."



Or, what about Ben's Famous Chili Meat Dog?
"This is how a chili dog ought to be! We take our grilled premium pork hot dog, then serve it on a steamed bun with mustard, onions, and of course our signature chili sauce. Can’t go wrong with our classic chili dog!"

This is the delicious chili that you can (should) have poured on every item of food:



Once you reach the ordering station you are greeted by one the waiters/waitresses/cooks/janitors and they will take your order. Word of warning: know what you want when you get there! There are 65 people behind you and you cannot hold up the line, or else you and your party will face severe punishment in the alley next to the restaurant. Once you've ordered you have this feeling of accomplishment. You think to yourself, "Ah! I waited for 30 minutes for a hot dog and now it will be mine!" Then you remember that you have yet to find a job...and this sense of accomplishment dies down. But then.....

Almost instantly your chili-dog, French fries, and milkshake are ready! However, you have not reached the end. You're now number 40 in line to get to the register. "UGH! But I'm so hungry!", you think. But wait! You're not alone: you can pick on your fries while you wait to pay for your meal. Victory!

Look at them. How could you not eat these while you wait? Hot, fresh, delicious, and golden:



By now, you've paid and are more than willing to give up your first born child for a seat to finish off the remains of your half-eaten order. Finally you find a place, anywhere is fine. Hell, the bathroom would suffice if necessary.

If you need to discuss any important world matters, family issues, Sarah Palin's semi-automatic weapon collection, I would wait for after your meal. While you're eating a delicious BCB chili dog, it's pretty much nearly impossible to do anything else but stuff your face. I would describe your first BCB chili dog as a near spiritual experience--don't interrupt it with conversation that can wait for when you are on the couch in a food coma.

Once you take your last bite and the last sip of your milkshake, there is another party eying your seat and will most likely put a hex on you if you don't get up and leave. Another tip, the food comes in those plastic, red baskets: don't throw them out. In fact, you can simply leave your trash at the table, they clear it for you!

As you walk out through the crowded restaurant, past the line, sizzling hot dogs, and bubbling chili you will say to yourself: "Wow, going to Ben's Chili Bowl was the best decision of my life. Thanks Tone!"

So, next time you're in the District, come visit JAS and I, and our new friends at BCB:

Live blogging McCain on 60 Minutes

Hey everybody. John McCain is on 60 Minutes tonight. So far, he's said things like (1)"I disagree with what the majority of the American people want," and (2)"You see, Scott, there's a thing called a 'social contract.' Adam Smith used to talk about it."

(1) This is the last thing you want to hear a DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED OFFICIAL say. He's saying "If you are part of the majority that gets me elected, I'll do something you don't want," or "A vote for me is a 'Fuck you!' to you."

(2) You see, John, there's a guy called John Locke. Despite being our favorite Lost character (although Tone is pretty fond of Sawyer), he's the one who came up with the idea of a social contract. The same John Locke who believed that a government's authority rested in the public's collective consent to be governed (see (1)).

Smith did refer to the existence of a social contract, but his definition involved each individual acting in his own self-interest, which, as we found out in (1), is not voting for McCain.

P.S. I don't think this is meant to be a political blog. I am not motivated by my personal politics in making this post, only my desperate, honest desire for accurate language and clear meaning from my public officials. Barack Obama was also on the show, and he was fine.

Bahamas haiku:

A cruise ship weekend
to others, more than a trip:
a seaside bender.

We sit on this ship.
The techno is very loud.
Everyone is fat.


Put your life vests on
and meet the crew up on deck.
Safety before fun.

The elevators
crowded with lazy people.
They can't climb ten steps.



Slow down! We don't rush
here in the Bahamas, miss.
That's one dollar, please.


Have you seen the Straw
Market? My mom works in there!
My, these jokes are stale.


Buy this necklace, miss!
I won't bite! Children made it!
Fuck you, then, tourist.


Snacks! Let's eat again.
For my fourth meal of the day:
potato curry.


Ancient Greek city?
Or massive pink sand castle?
This is Atlantis.


Hello there, sting ray,
with your wide mouth and flat head.
Roomba of the sea.



Broke another nail!
Gigi, where's your snorkel mask?
These hobbies don't mesh.


Noble scavenger
pecking at his coconut.
So very meaty.


Mick Jagger lives here
but so does Nicholas Cage.
Face/Off reigns supreme.

Back in the stateroom,
the attendant folds the towels:
a new gift for us!

"Get here at seven,
and only carry one bag."
Fuck that, they all said.

Sovereign cruise ship,
with your line dancing, you are
captain of my heart.


-- Hiss & Freeloader

OMG(igi) My Life is Over!

Hello to all of our avid readers,

I have fully recovered from Sunday Funday at Nanny O'Briens. But I've found that my fellow 18-25ers are suffering from something more brutal than a Nanny's hangover: THE NEW FACEBOOK! ahhhhh!!!!!!!!


It would be untruthful to our readers to pretend that we don't spend too much time on Facebook, sadly we do. And we all know that every year or so, the Facebook team changes the layout, programs, capabilities, and the stupid applications of our beloved procrastination tool. And every year, thousands of Facebook groups are created with such titles as "Boycott the new Facebook!!!" or "The new Facebook sucks ballz!!!" or "The Patriots are Cheaters!!!". And every year, after about 3 hours, these haters assimilate to their new way of life.

I just want to tell those who are quite distraught over the new Facebook to: stop, sit back, relax, realize that things could be worse (i.e. herpes), and that eventually, you too will overcome this suffering.

**I'd like to add, that I don't mind the new Facebook.

Sunday Fun Day

NANNY O'BRIEN'S IRISH PUB
or
How I spent Sunday afternoon
By J. Alton Simpletary

So, like you know, I'm a Giants fan. And, like you also know, I live in DC. This can sometimes present a problem, because I can't always watch the Giants games here at home. This problem, though, induces a wonderful solution, which I have used several times, but only today was it given a name: Sunday Fun Day. (Is that a run-on sentence?)

The name comes courtesy of John, the dude that Tone and I met at Nanny O'Brien's Irish pub. He had been in the neighborhood to go to the grocery store, and decided to stop in to Nanny's grab a beer. Tone and I were already there, drinking light beer and watching the Giants beat the Rams. We had each had a drink or two, and we were thinking of ordering some food (the menu advertised "one pound" of chicken wings, but I actually only got 6) when John sat down a couple stools away from us.

This story could go on for a long time, and I'm not sure how compellingly I can write about getting pretty drunk at a pretty great bar in the early afternoon on a Sunday before stumbling home, "napping," and making mashed potatoes. Nanny O'Briens was pretty quiet, the food wasn't really anything exciting (Tone had a pretty good salad), but the bartenders were really cool and so were the people there. If you live in DC and want a fun day on a Sunday, Nanny's may be the place for you.

An Old Friend

Until last night, I can't remember when I last ate a pretzel. But thanks to one of JAS's friends, I was reintroduced to the delicious, braided snacks.

 I know this post doesn't really have much substance to it nor is it a rant of any kind, but think about the last time you enjoyed one of delicious Snyder's of Hanover Old Time pretzels...it's been a while, right? Next time you go to the store, treat yourself...you will be happily rewarded! 

Dear Suckaz:

Hiss and I will be MIA for the weekend. And by MIA i mean Missing in Awesome, because we're going to the Bahamas.


Hahahahhahahahaha. HAHAHHAHAHA. Ha.

Simply Seis: Poaching an egg

Hey everybody. JAS here. Our newest contributor, Tone, and I have come up with a wonderful new recurring feature to NMD (and it's not coming up with acronyms!). We call it "Simply Seis." In these posts, I will write six-step directions to teach our readers some of those everyday tasks that may be intimidating to them. Simply Seis: Six simple steps to do something simple simply. Today's entry: Poaching an egg.
Simple step #1: Go get some eggs. Bring them home and keep them in the refrigerator.

Simple step #2: Put a good amount of water (at least 6 cups) in a large pot and boil over high heat.

Simple step #3: When the water comes to a boil, add a couple of tablespoons of white vinegar.

Simple step #4: Crack your egg on the countertop (cracking eggs on a flat surface makes it less likely that little shards of shell will make it into your egg and later give you one of those cuts on the roof of your mouth that you can't stop licking so they never heal), but before dropping the egg into the water, use a spoon to swirl the water clockwise (this, along with the vinegar, will help keep the egg in an adorable little bundle instead of letting the white splay out like the hair of the SNAKE-HEADED GORGON MEDUSA).

Simple step #5: Drop the egg into the swirling water, and when the water comes back to a boil, turn the heat down to a bare simmer. Let your egg sit in the water for a couple of minutes, fish out with a slotted spoon, and serve on toast for a delicious and healthy breakfast!

Simple step #6: Don't be tempted to buy an egg poacher, or an egg poaching pan, or any other of those opiates of the masses. In addition to the fact that nobody eats poached eggs often enough to justify the purchase of an expensive tool that only poaches eggs, egg poachers etc. are lame and people will laugh at you.

This is J. Alton Simpletary wishing you simple success with this week's Simply Seis!

party Hardy.

I've noticed this in Miami, too.

It's really everywhere.

It could have been like this in New York, but I definitely don't recall seeing it. At least, not in the ubiquitous, unstoppable fashion that I have since I arrived in Florida.

I mean, it's EVERYWHERE.




I mean, really. What IS it with people and Ed Hardy?

I Can't Take it Anymore

Dear Entourage,

I hate you. But more importantly I hate your theme song and I always have. How do you go to bed every night knowing that you still welcome your loyal (but ridiculously bored viewers) with this piece of crap by Jane's Addiction:

"My mind had been enabled
In a memory you overflowed

Want to be your superhero

Even if I tumble fall."

Which of course leads into our favorite part: "Ohhhh yeahh!!! Ohhh yeah!!!"

In addition to the weak theme song, the season premier this past weekend was equally as pathetic. Not only was Vince even douchier than before (and also wore a beard resembling a terrorist) but IT WAS EXACTLY LIKE EVERY OTHER EPISODE ever. Drama being mildly entertaining but not necessary for any plot line, Turtle never getting laid and driving around high in an Escalade, E being the uptight good guy, Ari screaming at everything, and Lloyd being, well the same he's been the entire series.

Instead of watching Entourage, from now on I am going to direct my attention to Fox's latest venture: Hole in the Wall.

A warm round of snaps.

Simpletary and I have finally gotten my housemate and our mutual friend, Hiss, on board for this blog.


Please, make her feel welcome. But remember that I'm still your favorite. I get jealous easily.

Florida flora & fauna.

Hello, and welcome to my home:


Let's go for a walk, shall we?
















Not pictured: an array of butterflies, dragonflies, cardinals, and a HUGE FUCKING LIZARD THE SIZE OF MY SHOE.

I got a new camera. Can you tell?

Towelie

Hey everybody.

Who doesn't love Towelie? He only shows up when you need him, he dispenses excellent towel advice at the drop of a hat ("You'd better bring a towel!", "Don't forget to bring a towel!"), and he's always down for a party. As I hang around tonight and enjoy a night off from my intensive study of the law, I raise my glass and say "Here's to Towelie."

NO TOUCHING.

So a lot of people here get around on scooters, and it is SO FUNNY when two guys are on a scooter because they are so desperately trying to hold on for dear life without touching each other so as not to come across as gay.


Really. It's hilarious.

It's Tebow Time!

Apparently the denizens of Gainesville, Florida, like their football. A lot.

Yesterday was game day: UF vs. UMiami. While the overall gist of football is lost on me entirely (despite Mr. Simpletary's efforts), I was able to gather a bit of the hometown college football culture and-- no joke-- it's totally awesome.


For starters, given the theme of the day, this post would be far more appropriate written like this. A half-hour survey of the UF grounds was enough to realize that, on game day, everyone-- seriously, everyone-- is decked out in blue and orange. I was able to do some recon work by donning my new shiny gator shirt (cute!) and walk around unnoticed albeit terrified someone would ask me a football-related question (people are friendly and talkative down south).

Ah, game day; the air smells of barbecue and the people reek of beer. Of course, there is an actual game thrown in the midst of the tailgating and inebriation, but let's leave the sports talk to Mr. Simpletary. If the fans were colorful in garb during the day, they were far more colorful in behavior that night.

You have now entered the Salty Dog.

Granted, I've only been there a couple of times, but this local institutionalized shitshow leaves nothing to be desired. Last night it was in top form: it looked like somebody threw up orange and blue tshirts all over a bunch of middle aged rednecks. We were fortunate enough to meet two undergrads with extra booth space (the place was packed) and drank the lethal Long Islands ($3!) while they regaled us with tales of their totally fictional and unconvincing homosexuality. To top it off, our classy evening ended with an even classier ride home in a rickshaw while one of us (not me, this time) vomited off the side. Three drunk girls piled into a bicycle-powered wagon drew a surprising amount of attention; we even got challenged to a race by a guy on a Razor scooter.

I've learned what to do in times like these. "Go Gators!"

Go gators, indeed.

Did somebody say "homeless?"

Thanks, Colmes. I couldn't have asked for a better introduction into the very scientific survey I've been conducting that I was hoping to share with you, the Internet.

Dear readers, I am a denizen of the world. I have lived in four-- FOUR-- different places in the past year or so, and I'm pretty sure that classifies me as some sort of cosmopolitan wonder. Lucky you-- I'm willing to impart some of the knowledge I've gathered throughout my journeys with your simple, small-town minds.

One of the most fascinating, most diverse peoples I have encountered in my travels has been the homeless. Faithful reader(s) will recall a previous post in a previous blog, arguably in a previous life, that covered the variety of hobos you'd come across in the Parisian region. Today I will let you in on three other species of these roofless marvels.

The Collegetown Hobo
Habitat: Ithaca, NY
This little guy could often be found in/outside of Stellas, the local super overpriced and pretentious cafe that may or may not be missing a few bar stools due to some antics that have NOTHING to do with anyone I may or may not know, often with an issue of the New York Times in tow. Rumors, though apparently unreliable (who knew?), have suggested that this breed is educated, merely a student who graduated and then... never left. Sad? Maybe, but to me, this creature is nothing short of noble. Not to mention avant-garde; his hairstyle, a whirlwind of curls and facial hair, is bound to catch on any day now.


The Prophet Hobo
Habitat: New York, NY
I met (was accosted by) this fine gentleman outside of a classy Manhattan lounge (FIFTY CENT BEERS, YEAHHHHHHHHH) on a night out with some of my compatirots. My intial reaction was to stare with passionate intent at a crack in the sidewalk, hoping he would not notice me and go on to ask me for change (which, in my defense, I never have). This man, however, was different. He spoke with such conviction in regards to his Lord and Savior, was so clear and eloquent, and on top of it all, was able to make his spiel rhyme. Impressed by the originality and overall quality of his pitch, I gave him what few dollars I could muster. I'm glad I did-- a permanent fixture in the Upper West Side nightlife scene, I'd often run into Leon and would greet my old friend with a handshake and a laugh.


The Kung-Fu Hobo
Habitat: Miami, FL
Dangerous despite being unarmed, this man clearly rules the street. I had been in Miami not 24 hours when, on my way to a Thai establishment for some delicious foodstuffs, my host and I were merely walking by this lanky, high-waisted-pantsed individual when he quickly threatened us with a swift 'hi-ya!' and a air-chop RIGHT OUR FACES. Fortunately, my friend was wielding an umbrella at the time (thanks, Fay) and would have been ready to stab should the homeless ninja continue his attack, but something in his gait tells me that we wouldn't have stood a chance; Sidewalk Warrior, Miami is yours.



Will Gainesville hold as diverse and interesting a homeless population as I have encountered on my travels*? All signs point to yes. I'll keep you posted, dear friends, for my thirst for knowledge is as ardent as Leon's thirst for change.




*according to my friend, "Oh my God, yes." Sweet!

the boys are back in town.

Dear readers, I'd like to introduce you to what I see when I close my eyes:

For those of you who are unversed in the legend that was last year's Super Bowl, that is a picture of New York Football Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress catching the touchdown that gave his team the World championship.

As a Giants fan, this victory was satisfying enough, but it made me even happier that they beat the living christ out of the smug asshole, near-perfect-season, run-up-the-score-against-bad-teams, cheat-but-don't-admit-it-and-when-they-stop-cheating-they-keep-winning-because-they're-fueled-by-darkness-and-meth-amphetamines New England Patriots.

Naturally, then, I was pumped to see my G-men come out and dismantle their long-time rivals (and my home-town favorites), the Washington Redskins. The 'skins have a new coach, a new offensive system, and a bunch of injuries on defense, so they were the perfect patsies upon whom the Giants could reassert their championship-style dominance. Plaxico "If I wasn't a football player my name would be ridiculous" Burress, our hero in the picture above, caught 10 passes for 133 yards. He's the best receiver on my fantasy team, which means that I'm a big loser who plays fantasy football.

As a quick sidenote, Applebee's can suck me. Last night, I made some delicious quesadilla burgers, and I'm confident that they tasted better than this greasy pile of detritus:
I'd rather eat a homeless person.

now i want salad.

so.

as i was saying, i've moved to florida.
gainesville, in particular.

due to the fact that i waited a while to start this thing, you can only imagine the incredible wealth of anecdotes i've already accumulated; while this means i don't have to resort to writing about, say, the leaky faucet (driving me nuts, btw), it also means that i will be discussing things as they occur to me and not really in any chronological order.

today: grocery shopping. oh boy.

one of the things i hated the most about living in new york was the cost of food (should i have that idea patented? i'm pretty sure i'm the first person to feel that way) and part of my reason for moving down south were the tales of a mythical paradise known as Publix.

oh hey.

Publix is the greatest thing that every happened to mankind, ever. great selection. i like their generic products; their logo comes off as simple yet still super pleasant to look at-- to the point where you're buying them for more than just the reduced price. not to mention the cashiers there call you "ma'am" with a smile as well as-- and this is something i never thought i'd experience-- DON'T look like they're contemplating either killing you or themselves.

ah, the price. guys, real talk: this place is cheap as hell. and while i understand that this really has much more to do with the fact that Gainesville is, like, THE cheapest place to live, i'm going to go ahead and attribute it to Publix and Publix alone. did i mention i love names that have x's in them? cause i do.

don't believe me? let's do a little side-by-side comparison (except in the vertical sense). let's say you're invited to a potluck dinner and you need to bring something. because you're insanely classy, you choose to bring a salad that blends both nuts, fruits, AND meats (REVOLUTIONARY!!!!!): a spinach salad with chicken, walnuts, and dried cranberries. seeing as i've bought those ingredients in both franchises, this should be easy.

Publix:
spinach: $1.99
cranberries: $3.29
chicken: $3.99
total: $9.27

now, let's make the same salad in new york city, where the most convenient store if you're living behind Lincoln Center and, really, are far too lazy (not to mention pressed for time!) to walk 20 blocks to someplace cheaper is, without a doubt, Gristedes.

boo.

Gristedes:
spinach: $54.99
cranberries: $19.99
chicken: $569.99
total: $1,432.67 and an overwhelming sense of emptiness; also, tears.


call me crazy, but i'd say those savings are noticeable.
Publix, you're my main man.

hey everybody!

JAS from DC here. I'm excited to be a part of Dr. F's blog, and I'm going to try my darnedest not to turn this into an acrimonious personal battlefield between the two of us like all of our other joint ventures have become.

I'm a law student, and I just found out that Dr. F's roommate is making her pizza for dinner. THAT'S HORSESHIT.

I love pizza. If anybody knows any good pizza places in DC, please tell me. I hope it's better than Dr. F's roommate's pizza, because if it's not, I'M GONNA GET SUPER PISSED.

I'll probably write about being a law student, maybe about the upcoming election, probably about living in DC, definitely about pizza and sports (separately), and anything else that strikes my fancy.

overpopulation.

i've invited my mortal nemesis to join in because i can't handle this insane pressure on my own.

"he" will be our DC correspondent.

just a heads up.

more like SCORE-ida.

gone & moved to florida:


... sweet.


coming soon: miami, a brief stint in DC, how much i hate delta airlines, bats, eagles, lizards, hobos, Ed Hardy, gators, gators, bats, gators, anorexic squirrels, shirtless frat boys, and bats.


!!!