Male Cheerleaders

I knew there was a reason that I didn’t like male cheerleaders.

Carter Who?

Last night I walked in the light rain to Asylum, a bar in my neighborhood. I had wrapped up a quick session of poker at my buddy Dan’s house (winning $27 bucks in the process) and was out to meet up with the incomperable Terri and her vivacious friend Vanessa.

As I walked into the bar, I was hailed down by a girl sitting on the steps, talking on her cell phone. It turned out to be my baby sister’s (Caroline’s) best friend from high school, Priscilla. Priscilla is quite surprised to see me at Asylum, which, let’s just say, isn’t quite my “scene”. But I was looking for a change of pace and somewhere that I know Terri hadn’t been before, so there I was.

Anyway, I chatted it up with Priscilla for a little while. Priscilla then proceeds to introduce me to a guy named Frank. Apparently Frank has known both of my sisters (Annie and Caroline) for 10 years. She introduces me as Caroline’s older brother. He does a complete double-take. Caroline has a brother? He’s looking at me in utter disbelief. Of course, I’m not even mildly surprised. But it still hurt. This guy was just sitting there, blinking, saying over and over how long he’s known the two of them and how inexplicable this is. My other sister Annie actually works at Asylum on Saturdays and Sundays, which makes the whole situation all the more uncomfortable.

Luckily, Terri and Vanessa showed up, and I was able to distract myself. A few Shiner Bocks later and I was feeling fine. Did I mention how much Terri rocks? She bailed me out the other day when I need two tickets to the Nats/Mets game to take my dad to for his belated Father’s Day present. Using her law firm connections, she scored 2 $40 tickets (right behind home plate in the 200 section) for a mere $60. Go Colby!

Wall Street Journal

I’m in the Wall Street Journal. Front page. Dot portrait. Profile of DCKickball. I’m trying not to freak out about this, but it’s pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event to be featured on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, my personal holy grail of journalism. I think I can die happy now.