Unlike other DC libraries, there is a scarcity here of bums and eccentrics, those special people who make the library interesting. Last time I was here it was nothing but attractive young Georgetown coeds...BORING. Instead of the pungent body odor of homeless library-men, all I smelled was Dolce & Gabana perfume...ok, so it wasn't that bad. I was sitting in a pleasing, high-ceilinged reading room with sunny windows facing to the south and all of Georgetown below...this place is built on a hill with a terrific little park outside and a vista of the city.
Anyway, as I was reading a Rolling Stone interview with Snoop Dogg, not a single emphesymic cough nor schizoid monologue issued forth...then I walked outside, and that's where I found all the usual suspects, on smoke break, unrolling their sleeping bags on the lawn and enjoying the sunny day.
Really this is a nice, nice library, and a good place to get work done...it's just in an out of the way place, and you have to climb a hill to get there. But it's worth the effort.
Pizza Movers delivers their mouthwatering calzones in small, grease-soaked cardboard boxes. Seeing one of them late at night will instantly snap a Georgetown student out of his drunken stupor. Their calzones are big enough to slice in two, and tasy enough that you might want to order a second. I've never had the pizza, since I can never resist ordering the calzone.
I would give these guys five stars, just because it brings me joy everytime I open one their boxes...but then again, I have never made a proper dinner of their food and I have never been sober when eating it. Better order one and taste for yourself.
You just have to be a collector to appreciate this shop. Otherwise you will leave baffled by the apparently anachronistic, unrelated stock of merchandise. This place reminds me of my late grandma's miniatures collection--the one that we auctioned off in a big cardboard box for $12 at the estate sale.
Right now you can get a garish nativity set -- complete with rhinestone wisemen and velvet-clad camels, or if you have kids in the house, check out the red-faced santa clause dolls. I don't know why they calll it an opportunity shop when so much of the merchandise has passed its prime and is effectively useless.
The only piece of interest that I found is an antique wood metronome for $50. I switched the gauge from "adagio" to "presto", trying to liven up the store...but all I got was a dirty luck from an porcelain-shopping old lady.
Dear reader, i'd like to bring your attention to several exciting new formulas. I came across these products while shopping for some pharmaceutical grade fish oil at the Vitamin Shoppe.
Japanese Mushroom complex: this blend, nicknamed "nerve tonic" claims to improve brain function and neurotransmission. Take one heaping teaspoon along with a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich. Looking for a complete, one-a-day vitamin? Forget about GNC's "mega men" and switch to vitamin shoppe's "Ultimate Man"! The most intriguing product I came across is something called "Muscle Milk," which is full of designer fats. In the future everyone can possess a designer body--start today by switching to designer fats and proteins.
Really this is just another shop geared toward fibromyalgiac housewives looking to cure their ennui and meatheads/Patrick Bateman types making the jump to human peacock status.
So you're a newly appointed diplomat from some cultural backwater of a nation? Need to catch up on world affairs and washington high society in a hurry? No problem--just pick up a copy of the Washington Diplomat at your local library. This month, find out what German ambassador Klaus Scharioth is up to, or, bone up on the political credentials of Ban Ki-Moon, the new secretary General of the U.N. But it's not all work and no play: the Diplomat features reviews of area Bed & Breakfasts, previews of Foreign Cinema, and plenty of advertisements for Rolls Royces & Bentleys.
All in all, this is one of Washington's better publications when it comes to foreign affairs. They cater to the international community of DC, so it's interesting to pick up a copy just to see what obscure receptions or cultural exhibits are happening in the district.
There are many ways to pass an hour in the Gtown bookshop: Sit in a burgundy colored recliner next to the fake fireplace, poring over a tome of romantic poetry. Or, stand and gawk at breaking news on the big screen TVs. Collector? Then ddd to your assortment of pewter key chains and officially licensed shot glasses.
The American Literature section features prominently, stocked with all the best: Twain, Kerouac, and Hunter S. Thompson. All college book stores should have easy return policies, and these guys understand that.
What's more, Georgetown basketball is on the rise again, and that means that Hoya merchandise will soon be in demand. Come by and pick up a hooded sweatshirt for you dad or some Hoya booty shorts for your little sister.
The Mecca of discount stores...at least from the outside. Come inside and lose yourself in a maze of strange bargains. "Buena compra!" boasts the signs, dangling from a pink wedding dress...only $59.99. Inside you'll find plenty of Paco Jeans, and plenty of old Disney T-shirts, sized XXXL.
This store, on the corner of 17th and Columbia, looks like an old movie theatre--obviously it posessed greater prestige and was one day gutted and filled with junk. There is junk literally spilling out the front door--where a guard stands watch over the surplus suitcases and pinatas that sit on the sidewalk outside. It's a well-lit and intriguing shop, but don't look to buy anything unless you've truly hit rock bottom.
I came here to buy a soccer ball one day and ended up finding a deal on dress shirts. "Camisa vestir" said the box "4 for $10". But to my disappointment, the shirts were all abnormal sizes, for extremely fat men with short arms. I'm guessing Tienda Malik deals mostly in factory leftovers.
Everything inside this store is pretty cheap. So cheap, it seems, that the owner didn't even bother to sort the merchandise when it came in on the semi: he just set the boxes on the floor and had his assistant rip them open. One box is full of flip-flops in plastic wrap, another is full of reject ping-pong paddles. Where do these guys get all this stuff?
The owner himself is an arabic gentleman who decorates the walls with golden inscriptions from the Koran. When I was in there he was speaking broken spanish to his assistant, ordering him to restock a pile of tube socks. "Cuanto cuesta?" I said, holding up a soccer ball. "Ocho". Eight dollars ain't bad, and that's why i'll keep coming back here--you just never know what sort of deals you'll find.
This is the place that time forgot. Tombstones toppled over, lying face down in the grass. A giant cross broken in two--the polished wear on the fractured marble indicates that it's been this way for awhile...has the cemetary finally gone out of business? Perusing the epitaphs, you'll notice that the most recent death of any of the "residents" came around the 1920's. Even the names sound old. "Infant son of Custer and Louisa Eidleweiss," reads one of the inscriptions.
If you're doing a history project, or if you just want to escape the bustle of modern society, then this is an interesting, if morbid, place to relax and reflect. There's a nice evergreen tree at the top of the hill, and if you stand underneath it and look east, you'll see a nice view of the city. There's an old chapel, dug out of the hillside and locked up with some chains. It makes me wonder who has worshipped here, and who will pray for our ancestors?
I needed a good hat to complete my serial killer costume, and it was already Halloween day. Ideally I would've gone to a thrift shop in Virginia somewhere, but there was no time left and I had to choose from the expensive, designer hats at the hattery. The only mildly weird hat in stock was a fisherman's cap with a built-in mullet--tufts of string blonde hair stapled to the inside.
All I can say is that the hattery is a serious, upscale hatmaker (think Borsalino, Stetson, etc.) and it was foolhardy of me to blow $25 there on a costume hat. Next year, I went as the Mad hatter for halloween and fashioned my own hat, out of construction paper and a cardboard box, and it turned out better than anything the "Hattery" could sell me.