We’re heading back to DC this weekend to see my friend Kris’ new baby (lucky! She’s done being pregnant and has a healthy baby boy!) and catch up with friends. Of course, while we’re in town, we have a packed itinerary of doing all the things we can’t do in Delaware.
The first order of business for me is getting my hair highlighted. With a month until this baby arrives, I can’t risk labor and delivery pictures with roots as black as night. Then Grey, Ollie, and I plan to stuff our faces with Peking Gourmet until we all look like walking egg rolls. And hopefully, if there’s time, I’ll be able to fit in a quick pedi, a trip to buy some new eyeshadow, and a quick browse at one of the many preppy little shops selling seersucker bloomers and bonnets for babies.
Should be a fun weekend as long as I don’t accidentally have a baby while visiting!!!
Oh and, uh, PS, thanks for the monuments and being the Nation's Capital and stuff.
Ducks may be cute feathered creatures, but they’re really evil little beings. In addition to their gross poop that they leave behind on docks and decks, did you know duck rape is a real phenomenon? I’m not lying. It isn’t just human society that seems to be getting more violent, but oddly enough the same thing is happening in the world of poultry. According to scientists, ducks are behaving more and more sexually aggressive each year. Really — Google it. You’ll be shocked. And fascinated. And then come to the conclusion you know waaaaaaay more about duck sex than you ever wanted.
I noticed this strange duck behavior when I taught middle school. Why you ask? Why would I notice aggressive quackers when I was a teacher? Well, my friends, because the strange set-up of my former school placed my classroom on the border of a strange little courtyard inhabited by 10,000 of these webbed-footed demons. And I SAW their violence first-hand — and so did all my students due to the fact that the huge bay windows looked directly onto them.
Every spring was apparently mating season for my little courtyard pets and we’d hear them squawking and quacking constantly while they mated. The kids would stare in fascination and get an in-your-face-lesson on the birds and the bees gone wrong. In fact, while I administered the 7th grade Virginia Standards of Learning test to the students, I even had to report a standardized testing irregularity of “kids couldn’t concentrate due to duck rape.” Literally — the ducks’ perverted behavior became so much of a distraction that some students couldn’t even finish their exams. But seriously, who’d want to do analogies while there’s animal gang rape going on outside your window?!
I like Duck Hunt because it's as non-violent as video games come AND teaches that ducks are sick sick creatures that should be eaten with a side of plum sauce.
Grey and I took Ollie to dinner the other night for his half-birthday to our favorite restaurant: Peking Gourmet Inn in Falls Church. You’ve never know it from the outside of the place (it’s a tiny door in a cheesy strip mall in the middle of commercial hell) but the place is huge and has SO much character. There’s not a hint of nouveau Asian about the place — it’s old school Chinese all the way. It makes me want to do things like practice Confucianism and become a communist.
Peking used to be the favorite haunt of President George Bush, Sr. and the first thing you notice when you walk in is that conservative heroes like Oliver North, Colin Powell, and pretty much the entire Bush family decorate the walls. Grey loves it; he always feels like he’s dining with friends. Plus, the place is constantly packed. No doubt because it’s by far the best Chinese food in the entire metro area. On any given night you’ll find a line of people (all colors, sizes, and walks of life) stretching out the doorway.
But the one thing that makes it my favorite place in particular is the wait-staff. No matter how we botch pronunciation, however drunk and obnoxious our dining companions get, or how quickly we wolf down ever last scrap of food — the waiters never seem judgmental. Plus, at every other place we take Ollie, the servers take one look at him and run the other way because they know a screaming, filthy child is in their near future. At Peking, it’s the exact opposite. They shower him with attention and, Voila: he behaves as if he spends his days at finishing school, not fishing his sippy cups in our toilet bowl.
What more could you ask for in a restaurant? Well, besides free food?
A Snake, a Rat, and a Horse enjoy dinner at the Peking Gourmet.
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