ohmygod, shoes

This weekend had three high/lowlights:

One. Boutiques on U St. I normally scurry past the shops between 10th and 17th, maintaining blinders so as not to feel the pangs of longing for the thrift outlets of my erstwhile home of Portland, OR. But this weekend I decided, you know what – fuck you, adorable boutiques on U St. I don’t care if your shoes cost more than a month’s rent. I’m going to browse your vintage jewelry and try on your designer dresses and god help you if you never have sales, because I may just buy something I can’t afford anyway. To my surprise, I found a skirt for $5 at Junction Vintage, a vintage, beaded necklace at Legendary Beast (upstairs from ShoeFly), and a cute, pocketed dress at Nana and didn’t have to file for disability the next day. Also found some adorable shoes at Meeps, but must have had a mild stroke at the time because I left without buying another pair of white leather, kitten-heels with ankle strap and cut-outs on the toes (as if one is enough). Overall experience rating = B

Two. Dine and Dip at the Omni Shoreham. Every Sunday through the summer, $21 gets you 3-course brunch with glass of champagne (we finagled two somehow, on our looks, I presume) and pool access until “dusk” (or “I’m never leaving” if you’re me). Service was disorganized and food was mediocre, and they make you eat first which definitely flies in the face of the 30-minute rule we all learned in kindergarten. But once we rolled ourselves out to the pool where the beautiful people were, all was forgotten in the face of new horrors. Seriously, it was like MTV Spring break took a dump on Woodley Park. Feeling irrationally threatened by the surfeit of abs and tans, I dragged my chez lounge over to the one tree near the patio, caked myself in SPF 9000, and retreated under my pashmina with Death in Venice (note=possibly the poorest choice of poolside reading ever, aside from maybe the Iliad, and soon abandoned for US Weekly). Overall rating = C+

Three. Free movies on Mondays at Galaxy Hut. First of all, I love Keanu Reeves. The man has played Ted in every movie he’s ever been in since he actually played Ted in a movie that once. In what was to be this showing of 1991's Point Break, he plays college football star turned F.B.I. agent! turned surfing/bankrobbing/skydiving Ted-of-all-trades. There is nothing wrong with this movie, it is a perfect, perfect thing. Plus, Gary Busey plays his detective partner and Patrick Swayze plays a surfing Bodhisattva – which, if you’re haven’t already quit reading to run out the door and rent it right now, should be all I really have to say if you have any sense at all, dear reader. So you can understand my shock and chagrin when, just as my friend and I curl up in a booth and are about to light up (inside! so novel, Virginia!), the opening credits of North Shore start rolling. We immediately walk out and burn the place down. Overall rating = F------- you fucking suck, North Shore, I hate you.