A short story about living in a big city.

*Tap tap tap tap tap (really fast)* A pen knocks on the door.

Weber opens the door to find a young man selling magazines to gain points toward a college scholarship. The little guy is really chatty and Weber agrees to actually look at the magazine list, probably because there are actually magazines we could save money on if we bought subscriptions. Pretty quickly, the little guy has chatted Weber into opening the bars that precede our front door. That’s when we realize…there are two little guys! Another has mysteriously appeared for backup sales support.

The Economist comes up as a potential magazine Weber could purchase to help out this little guy and he immediately starts to fill out the subscription form, awkwardly delaying the price announcement. “He doesn’t need money today.” Can’t we just write a check like the nice lady down the street? “Can I come in and sit down to fill out this form?” It’s really confusing to find the price the way they have everything set up. “New Jersey is way different from DC.” Sure would be nice if he could just come in and use the table to write really quick. “Sometimes people think I’m actually a boy and when they realize I’m a girl, they feel bad and give me money.”

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It’s a crappy Wednesday in DC, so I figured I’d post a couple amusing protester pics to get everybody into the end of the week.  This might turn into a recurring post since we tend to be out and about on weekends and there’s always a march for something going on.

Arr, me President's a pirate.

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Things have been a little bit hectic in DC in the last few weeks, with Covey and me trying to hit up every neat sounding event that we come across.  Last week we hit up four countries in six days: a movie at the Austrian Cultural Forum, a sweet party at the German Embassy (I know, I know…), a Turkish Festival, and a Russian Bazaar.  By Sunday night, we were pretty much exhausted, so this week has been a little more low key.

Since the recent loss of the Gateblog, I figure the rest of us here at the KyleLibra.com blog network have got to step it up, so as I settle into a routine, one of us will be posting at least once a week, starting today.

The title of this entry came to me as a result of a funny little thing that happened to me yesterday.  After lunch, I went to the men’s room to… well, you know.  I noticed there was a guy in one of the stalls.  About a half an hour later, I had to go back to the bathroom to blow my nose since I keep forgetting to take a box of tissues in for my cubicle and I see that the same guy (black velcro shoes, immediately recognizable) was still in the stall. As I walk past I can’t help but notice that it looks like his feet are stretched out — like he might be slouched backward.  Immediately I start wondering, “Holy crap, what if this dude had a heart attack?”

So I stop in my tracks to listen for any sort of noise, breathing, groaning, anything… for a good five seconds there is nothing.  Just when I’m about to say something to the effect of “sir, are you alright?” I hear something:

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Only one post in, and we’re about to get philosophical up in here.  Some of you may have noticed the slight change in the header image a couple days ago, a result of a long, somewhat heated discussion Covey and I engaged in one night.  What started out as an argument about whether we should have our full names posted anywhere on the blog, quickly evolved into a full-blown discussion of internet privacy, especially regarding what information it is prudent to post publicly on world wide “interwebs.”  Judging from the title, you may be able glean what side of the argument I was on, and which one my curly-haired counterpart chose.

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Fellow Americans, we have decided to write this blog in an effort to give you a better understanding of (our) life in the nation’s capitol. We’ll talk politics, events, neighborhoods and happy hours. But we also hope to share stories of impeccably layered red, white and blue fashion statements (especially when their gallon milk drinking owners become our 2am bus stop friends). It will be a story of city life and American life, pre-parties and tea-parties, government jobs and unemployment, which we, as  “Deutschbags,” feel compelled to commentate and share. There will be times when we write together, times when we write separately and times when it doesn’t seem like either of us is writing at all. Either way, we hope to offer some insight and entertainment from inside the Beltway.