New country, New blog

After a year of playing with this blog, 94 posts later … a new site. This one will be used for the 27 month Peace Corps stint in Armenia. Nothing else. Well, considering my outstanding acute ADD disorder, that might not be entirely true.

Stopover: Sin City

The last stop on my visit out West was the city where one armed bandits are strategically placed inside gas stations and airports. Blowing my entire savings prior to departure was not part of the three day bender agenda, rather visiting sites never viewed was the intent. This included both burros and burritos. Within a three day span, four Mexican restaurants (not to be confused with the Mexican/Salvadorean style in DC) were invaded. So were four restrooms. Authenticity revisited.

[For more pictures of the Canyon, click on the Flickr link at the very bottom right of the page.]

The flight back east was as smooth as the one flying out West; with one exception. Upon entering the lavatory after reaching 10,000 feet and the seat belt sign unlit, the stalwart stewardess felt in her infinite wisdom to announce the start of a certain show that was about to commence one of its two part season finale. See, this airline made a leap by offering Direct TV to its patrons. One would think this was a brilliant idea. But even at 10,000 feet, one can never escape the cheese that is known as reality TV. The clapping throughout the cabin was obviously not for my performance.

Stopover: SLC

Having previously spent my useless undergraduate years in the valley, it was imperative to stopover and see some friends and family still residing in between the Wasatch and Oquirrh mountain ranges, as well as get my Mexican food fix in. The Beltway, and surrounding areas, just don’t cut it. Furthermore, a variety of excellent non-chain coffee shops provide relief from a fast food version of java shops seen consistently up and down I-95. Haha, the liquor laws blow … then again, so do the one’s in Montgomery County and The District.

A couple of highly significant differences have transpired since graduation. First, the renaming of a local institution from Betos to Rancheritos. I’m told the quality has not been altered in any way. The coffee shop I’m sitting in right now is roughly 100 meters from one, so we’ll see if that’s complete shit, or not. Second, it’s true, that American Idol tool is a fucking hit out here. There’s this crappy Chinese Buffet along the main drag (next to his preschool) that has written outside “David Archuleta eats free here for life” on it’s enormous neon sign.

Next Stopover: Las Vegas

Update: Rancheritos is still the same in quality as Betos was.

How To: Lower the Bar

Continuing on from the last post, the bar has been lowered even further in the last 24 hours. I’ve been asked to forward all new inquiries, requests and suggestions to my subordinate and superior, refrain from making my usual “smart-ass” remarks just because “you’re leaving”, as well as field any and all questions from employees as to what exactly I will be doing instead of sitting behind a desk. I’ve begun compulsively stealing items from the copy room with no intention of returning them. I ponder the best strategy for fitting my belongings (pictures, mugs, staples) into a box when I leave. How far back should I delete my internet browsing history? Does it really matter? How much free coffee can one consume in his/her final hours as a cubicle drone? How much copy toner can I use up on printing all necessary personal documents?

So, before flying out West for the next 10 days in the desert, here’s a short version of how it all began.

A little less than a year ago, after deliberating my future at a brewpub, I put in my application online and then was interviewed by a recruiter in their Rosslyn Office. Two weeks later, that recruiter than said I was nominated for a position in the Community and Business Development Program in the Caucasus Region. Whether it was the hangover resultant from the Dr. Dremo’s (R.I.P) happy hour the night before, or the 7:30 am phone call on a Friday, I had no fucking clue where this was. College degrees are useless. Ironically, a certain festival was taking place in the area the following day.

Packets of paperwork then followed; every so often checking my status online to see how it was progressing. Roughly four months later, the country name came. I knew where this was, college degrees are still useless.

Unfortunately, this sites address (the “tbilisi” part) has nothing to do with where I’m actually going. Good job with that one, I know. Moreover, it didn’t raise the kind of awareness for poverty I’d hoped for, change the global and local perspectives of it’s readership, or draw in attention from large media outlets about indigenous cultures. Though, it was never my intention to keep all the worthless garbage from my first year of writing on this site anyway, the real bitch is having to set up another one. Upon returning from the desert, this site will be retired, and another resurrected in its stead.

Almost Useless

Reality crept in when I cancelled my Netflix subscription this morning. I will be unemployed by weeks end. ADD level is at an all-time high in the cubicle. I changed my address with my bank, showed pictures of Armenia to a coworker on Flickr, and discussed which of my old addresses was the real ‘old’ address; fear of having to ask a US Postal Service worker set in.

Service found in Shirlington

It’s been a while since anything written about a restaurant/bar/cafe has been on here. Though some experiences probably deserved to be divulged, however, after last night’s episode in Arlington, divulge I must. While I have been, and always will be, a hole-in-the-walls number one fan, this place provided a little more in terms ambiance and eclectics. But not too much.

Little background here; about a month ago we went to a function at the Hilton in DuPont Circle, where some of the best restaurants in the area go to provide food and drink … unlimited food and drink. But, all the proceeds went to fight hunger around the world. I distinctly remember one tables sampling’s and decided to pursue further. Which brings me to last night.

Honestly, the real reason for this post: the restaurant’s service. Appetizers (spinach and artichoke dip), both entree’s (pasta w/chicken and salmon), and dessert (something really good) were top notch. It’s rare to find a geisha so impressed with all three, this one was. Back to the service part. Typically … okay everywhere, in this area service is %^&*ing lacking! Not sure if we caught this guy on an “I passed the bar exam, and now I can quit my job!” night, or what, but there was no hesitation to remove the disapproved of cocktail from our bill. It didn’t stop there; dessert was also on the house. Mind you, this was before the mentioning of the not-so-good cocktail, thus removing all possibilities of a making up for the botched beverage.

30 Days

For the second time in a 12 month span, I have issued a two week notice. However, this is not a personal best. In exactly one month from now I will board a train for Philadelphia for three days of solitude and “intense” pre-departure orientation before becoming airborne to Yerevan via Paris. Between now and then, a visit to Sin City, Salt Lake City (to visit four close friends who have all had children) and a Memorial Day camping trip with a certain Geisha, are part of this unemployed Iditarod, before the next wave of work begins.

Cover Song Debate …

… Offspring’s I wanna be sedated [Ramones] vs. Social Distortion’s Ring of Fire [Johnny Cash]

Cantina in the Caucasus?

In committing myself to understanding a new culture, language, and environment before arrival, certain life-sustaining discoveries have also been made along the way.

More ‘Holy Writ’

Generally, plugging a magazine that is already linked on your blog is completely stupid. F*** it. A couple other highlights from this month’s issue are worth noting. First, my hometown received the “Best Domestic Airport“.

And, despite seeing king douche Paul Walker on the cover, this issue also had an excellent article/video related to Mexico. Don’t judge a magazine by it’s cover.