- Name: Lonnie Bruner
- Location: Washington, DC, United States
I live in DC, sail the Chesapeake Bay, have a lovely wife who's a web designer, a young son, an unruly hound dog, and am interested in most everything in the world. Oh yea, and I love the smell of burning trash in the Third World. That just gets me going.
- Got Towed, Drank, Danced a Little ...
- Hello? Anyone Up For a China Rant?
- Cat Shit Coffee
- My Secret Apartment
- Ok, I'll Play Some Guitar for You
- I'm pretty sure I just went to the best sushi rest...
- The Pinnacle of Sport Fishing: Catching a Blue Marlin
- Bars in India: Like 100 Years Ago in the USA
- Atlantic Rockfishing
- They Hauled My Next-Door Neighbor Away in an Ambul...
- July 2004
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Blanketing opinions that I'll probably regret soon.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
This month's best "Do" from Vice Magazine
We saw this dude at some real serious Italian parade. He didn’t seem to know anybody and was rarely playing his trumpet but the verdict was: This stumbling little Chinese Jerry Lewis with the ridiculous facial gestures is the whole reason we hate normal people.
See the rest of Vice Magazine's Dos and Don'ts here.
I know it's bad form to quote yourself, but from my August 6th post about narrowly escaping a Chesapeake Bay thunderstorm on the water, I repeat:
"Nature is completely indifferent. It's been here for time immemorial and it'll exist when humans are long gone. It could give a quick fuck if you're in the way." -LB
Not to be harsh or anything, just rephrasing reality.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Summer Isn't Over Yet, Dammit.
Will I be able to do this when I have kids? I think not.
Monday, August 29, 2005
It's a great way to keep up with the blogs I watch and you only have to view them when something is newly updated. In addition, looking at the blogs doesn't register on any hit counters because it's just taking it directly from the feed.
Friday, August 26, 2005
I live near the blue arrow below. The red arrows are where the convicted sex offenders live. If you do a search on their website for your address, you can click on the arrows to get details and pictures of the sex offenders in your neighborhood.
Here are four gentlemen who live within walking distance of my apartment:
Charles S Cain
2600 Block of Connecticut Avenue, N.W.
Offense of Conviction : Assault with intent to commit rape
1700 Block of Euclid Street, N.W.
Offense of Conviction : Interstate travel with intent to engage in a sexual act with a minor
Clifford H Middleton
1600 Block of Euclid Street, N.W.
Offense of Conviction : Rape
Michael J Farrand
1600 Block of Argonne Place, N.W.
Offense of Conviction : Indecent Liberties
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Ponce De Leon
They're one of those bands whose music is mostly pre-recorded so they just tell the sound guy to "push play" and the CD starts. But the stage antics make up for lack of instruments.
All their songs are about conquistadors, exploring the new world or vampires.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Local antique shop
In between times
Yours truly, with fish
These things also stayed with us
Sometimes we skiied
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Horror Movie Drinkin' Game
- creepy, singing children
- phone rings, when person picks up, there's no one there
- something runs by in the background
- faucet turned on, out comes black water
- blood from any non-human source
- newspaper articles that show that an alive person is actually dead
- protagonist is startled by someone he/she knows
- dead/asleep person wakes up and grabs a character by the arm
There were like 10 more but I forget them.
Monday, August 22, 2005
My Feral Dog
I have the best fishing dog, too. He gets excited when I pull the line in or when the bobber goes underwater. When you land a fish he jumps up and tries to bite at it. We fed him a couple of small ones which he promptly devoured.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
"Free Range" Meat
All the animals are raised without the use of chemicals or hormones, but I can tell you from personal experience that those qualities DO NOT translate into better-tasting meat. The buffalo steak was so tough that my jaw ached after eating it. My dad said I needed a meat hammer to tenderize it. First, I don't even own such an instrument and what's more, I really shouldn't be eating meat that is so tough that it needs to be beaten with a spiked metal weapon.
The bacon was like chewing on salt strips. No smokiness, no fatiness, just salt flavor. I could feel my body drying up as I ate it. Might as well have spent 10 minutes with my tongue lapping at a salt lick block.
The upshot is that homemade doesn't always mean better. Next time I'm going to Safeway.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Five Conversations I'm Sick Of
1 - The never-ending real estate values conversation: This is possibly the most insidious of all the annoying conversations because each person has an opinion and they want it known. Everyone's heard the story of the guy who bought the house for $150,000 and now it's worth $600,000 or the one bedroom apartment selling for more than you'll make in 25 years. If this conversation extends beyond those two sentences, allow me to gouge my ears with 10 inch, metal tent stakes. STFU. Everyone knows the drill. Everyone's had the conversation a thousand times. Enough.
2 - The "English so crazy" conversation: Haven't had this one too much lately but when I worked at an ESL school I had this conversation twice a day. No, English is not the hardest language to learn. Yes, there are some weird pronunciations but please don't talk to me about this. STFU.
3 - The "this city sucks" conversation: No one likes the city they live in. And they like to complain about it. You're never going to be happy until you live in a place where you don't have to work, beautiful women felate you daily, and there are candy canes growing on trees. Even though I'm guilty of ranting about this one, my saturation point for the "this city sucks" conversation is closer to 30 seconds.
4 - The gentrification conversation: And you KNOW this conversation ALWAYS comes out of the mouth of a white 20-something living in the city. OMFG, STFU. Now.
5 - The work gossip conversation: This one needs no description. Two minutes are interesting. Two minutes and ten seconds of the work gossip conversation make me want to be a construction worker.
Did people have conversations this annoying in 1933? I think not.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Saw the new Family Guy movie.
It's in line with the original edginess of the first series. Really good and funny as hell. Worth seeing.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Vanity Fair Contest
However, the grand prize seems a little creepy:
There will be one grand prize: $15,000, a trip to Donnini, Italy, including economy-class airfare and six nights of accommodation at the Santa Maddalena writers' colony, and a Montblanc Meisterstück 149 fountain pen.
"Writers' colony"? I think I'll take second place, thank you.
Monday, August 08, 2005
I've now made a few in my life and I'll admit it's not easy. I'm going to have to give it a few more tries before I get it right. Like any cocktail with multiple tasks and ingredients included, it's easy to add too much of one thing. For the one I'm drinking now, I think I added too much sugar. Be careful if you try this at home.
Here is what you'll need to make it. Here's how:
Pack an old fashioned glass with ice. In another heavy-bottomed glass, moisten the teaspoon of sugar with water and muddle it with 3-4 dashes of Peychaud's bitters. Add the rye whiskey and a few cubes of ice and stir to chill. Discard the ice from the first glass and pour in the aniseed liquor. Coat the inside of the entire glass, pouring out the excess. Strain the whiskey into the aniseed liquor-coated glass. Twist the lemon peel over the glass so that the lemon oil drips into the drink, then rub the peel over the rim of the glass; do not put the twist in the drink.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
My immediate thought was that there was some hidden camera trying to count how many people would walk by a guy---and a black guy, nonetheless---who looked dead.
I went up to him and jostled him but his body barely moved, like rigormortis. I kept asking him, "Are you ok, man? Are you all right?" Nothing. Finally, I lifted him by his right arm. He came to and I guided him over to the bus stop bench so he could rest without risk of being hit by a bus.
While doing this, some NoVA fuckwad made some snide comment about him being dead. What if he was dead, you piece of human garbage? How would you feel then? I'm so tired of my neighborhood. It makes me sick, weekly.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
I left work early to go fishing alone on my boat yesterday. It was 4:30 when I got out there and the surrounding sky was balmy but not dark, so I decided to go out. After about 40 minutes I was in the main part of the Bay, and I saw the first lightning strike, coming straight down from the darkening cloud on the horizon. I immediately turned the boat around toward home. Straight toward home. At this point the sky looked like this:
I knew exactly what I needed to do. I put on my lifejacket, turned on the VHF radio (for storm speed), turned on the GPS, clipped the motor's kill cord to my beltloop, closed up the cabin and braced myself for the coming weather locomotive. The VHF weather alarm was sounding (sounds like that "this is a message from the emergency broadcasting system" beep). The voice was saying, "All boaters should seek safe harbor immediately. All boaters should seek safe harbor immediately."
Having been caught in a summer thunderstorm in 2003, I was prepared for the worst. On the water the wind can instantly become 40-50 miles per hour. That kind of wind blows rain so fast that if feels like someone is shooting gravel at you out of a cannon. The wind blows the boat up on its side so bay water pours into the cockpit. It's impossible to steer a boat and the thunder is deafening loud. And there I am: A giant mast jutting into the sky about 45 feet.
Luckily I got back into my marina safely. Five minutes after I'd tied up, the locomotive hit. I sat on the picnic table drinking a beer, high on adrenaline.
Nature is completely indifferent. It's been here for time immemorial and it'll exist when humans are long gone. It could give a quick fuck if you're in the way.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Easier said that done.
I don't think I have an addiction to shit talking, and my friends know I'm not like that, but I need to cut it out of my life.
I'm not any more insecure or fucked up than the next person, so why can't I stop? Maybe I need to move to the midwest and start using adverbs like "surely", as in, "We surely are glad you folks stopped by." That might cure it.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
JUNE had barely begun, but the legendary French Riviera celebrity bastion of St.-Tropez already had its first scandale of the summer. All across the seaside village, fresh piles of the June 10 issue of La Tribune de St.-Tropez declared the breaking news. From socialites shopping in the Rodeo Drive-like stores along Rue François Sibilli to the jet-setting playboys and billionaires trawling the coconut-oil-scented fleshpots along Mediterranean beaches, the summer crowd that arrives early suddenly found a disturbing front-page discovery that would once have been unthinkable.
Read more ... - (You have to register with NYT to read it.)
Oh, all my personal friends are exempt from this rant. I like hearing all of the above from you.
Keep it up.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Lu Lu Eightball
Every one that I read in the last 20 minutes on her archives has been hilarious.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Today on K Street
"I'll take the bus, then get off, and then assassinate him. I'll assassinate him, assassinate him."
I clearly heard her say "assassinate him" about eight times during the time it took for the light to turn green. Then she just shuffled off down K Street.
As I rode through Lafayette Park I told a policeman who then radioed to someone else about her.
This woman was probably a normal crazy person, not someone destined to cause destruction but whatever ... I think I did the right thing.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Dear Cafe Atlantico
Hello Cafe Atlantico manager,
I just had the pleasure of enjoying a few beverages at your very chic restaurant. From what I've heard---having never eaten a meal there---it's a very fine place, with a lot of interesting choices. In short, a place that makes careful decisions when putting together a menu. I think that goes without saying.
This afternoon I ordered a Gibson at your bar. I know no one likes to hear someone's priggish suggestions about making such a drink, but I think mine are an important way to make your establishment even better than it is.
Put plainly, your pickled onions tasted like cheap, soft pickles, not quality pickled pearl onions (an important difference). This should not be. There is one of two explanations for this: 1) the onions had sat in the back of your refrigerator for far too long or; 2) you ordered your onions from a cheap wholesaler, which is just sad. The whole point of the Gibson is that the onions will add a crisper flavor to the vermouth and gin and give the drinker something tangy to chew on between sips. The important adjective is "crisp". No one wants their Gibson to taste like a jar of mushy Gherkins.
I've had cocktail onions at Safeway that tasted ten times better than the ones I had at Cafe Atlantico tonight. Let me help you to make your restaurant a better place. Some of the best cocktail onions are homemade. I've found a fairly good choice is McSweet onions. You can purchase them here: http://www.mcsweet.com/
Or maybe not enough people order Gibsons for you to even care ...
Please take this email as constructive criticism, not as a polemic.