The morning after my two-year old daughter's first time attending a birthday party, Mrs. Waugh and I frantically ready for a trip to the ER as we fear she's shitting blood.
As we're just about to head to the car, her twin brother did the same thing and it clicked: the red icing from the cupcakes.
Your first assignment is to read every George Pelecanos novel, starting with the Stefanos books, which are raw and not as good as the latter stuff, but essential.
Since you've been here three years, I suspect this will seem obvious, but nevertheless:
My favorite bar is The Saloon. My favorite spot is Teddy Roosevelt Island by the river. I'm a sucker for the National Zoo. On Saturday afternoons, I walk my kids down 14th street. The best Mexican food place in the city closed last year and I haven't found a suitable replacement.
If you're still around in the summer, I BBQ most weekends and invite over everyone I possibly know, so you are welcome to join the party.
My car was stolen in December. Since then, I've checked the local DMV ticket reports to see if its turned up.
This morning, my car received its second ticket violation on the same block, so I went over there tonight with my keys and a screwdriver, found the car and hauled ass out of there.
The best part: those idiots never noticed my computer bag hidden under the stroller in the trunk.
The worst part: it took two hours at the police station to get my car off the stolen list. Also, I will have no chance to fight the tickets.
/ugh
(Does warrant mentioning that she is not a teenager).
That is all.