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Come on, really?

In between throwing down pearls of wisdom yesterday, I went outside to mow the lawn. (I am truly a renaissance man, aren’t I?) While I was clearing out the mower, I looked down and saw about eight mosquitos enjoying a delicious lunch on my tab, so to speak.

Now I’m willing to live in a mosquito’s world during July and August, but it’s May, give me a break. Already?

Over the years I have spent untold bundles of cash on containing/killing/distracting/confusing the little bastards, yet my arms and legs always end up looking like a teenager’s face all summer long.

Despite all my efforts, I’ve only tapped the tip of the mosquito battling arsenal.

So now, I turn to you. Organic, chemical, thermonuclear–doesn’t matter. What are your best/favorite/most effective mosquito battling techniques?

I know its only Tuesday, but with Memorial Day this weekend, it has me thinking: I’m curious if folks generally avoid going downtown on holiday weekends.

Normally, sharing our city with visitors and tourists is not a big deal. It is a big place, it can accomodate a lot of people. But my assumption is that I should stay away on holiday weekends because it just becomes too much to enjoy.

Events like Rolling Thunder and memorial ceremonies are wonderful, moving events–but I just feel that they are–for me–better appreciated from afar. I can use the Mall and parks any weekend, I figure, so why frustrate everyone by adding myself to the mix?

If you still use the downtown parks and Mall on holidays, I’m curious what your experience is like. If you don’t, any hidden gems that you retreat to in order to get out of the house, yet avoid the holiday masses?

Good morning Popville!

I’d like to welcome you to Day Two of the latest reign of me, the Lord of Petworth.

People had some absolutely amazing and witty comments to yesterday’s posts–thank you for weighing in and playing along.

And for those who followed my non-hypothetical hypothetical quandary yesterday, you’ll be happy–and amused–that I really stepped in it big time. Seems the neighbors I was concerned about–read this blog! Turns out they figured out who I was–and I figured out who they were–through the comments section of the post (and who says no one reads comments). As one PoPville commenter put it, “There is some good Internet playing out right here.”

I showed up with a six-pack of “liquid apology” and we all had a good laugh about it. I no longer felt like an ass. Then my dog piddled on their carpet. Then I felt like an ass again. They still had a great sense of humor about it all.

So, needless to say, I have awesome new neighbors.

Lesson learned–keep the hypothetical quandaries…hypothetical.

Now, let’s move on and see how I can embarrass myself today.

And again–tips, suggestions, complaints, and wisdom-seeking can be directed to eric (dot) nuzum (at) gmail (dot) com.

I love to discuss hypotheticals, ethics, and things that are squishy and hard to navigate. So, whenever I reign as Lord of Petworth, I like to pose questions to see what people would do.

So, here is today’s…

There is a house down the street from mine. About two years ago, things started to fall apart for the family that lived there: three generations of very sick, very obese women. First, the oldest one died. For some reason, that seemed to be the undoing for them.

Shortly after, their house was listed as a foreclosure property (word around the neighborhood was that they had gotten a sub-prime mortgage on the house–previously completely paid off–and couldn’t keep up). Eventually, they lost the place. It went so far as curbing them and all their possessions.

That’s when we started to get a hint of what happened in there.

Shortly afterwards, guys showed up to clean up the house. Mind you, this is after the two women had been curbed. These guys hauled out three dump trucks full of trash from that 1,400 sq ft rowhouse: boxes of stuff, broken appliances, and just…junk.

Then a few days later, another group of people showed up, seriously, in hazmat suits. They hauled out piles of garbage.

It appeared the women, all in bad shape, just threw all their garbage into the basement where it…sat. The couple living next door swears that they have been smelling garbage through the walls for years. They, and a few other neighbors, bought cats after the clean-out fearing that rodents living there would go searching for some new digs.

So, after all this drama, a contractor bought the place and started working on doing a fairly decent rebuild of the place. While there were a few cut corners, by and large, the place is now a complete, yet modest, renovation.

A few months ago, after sitting on the market for awhile, we noticed the “for sale” sign was gone and there were signs of activity there.

A nice young couple bought the place and are very excited to have a home all their own together.

Nice ending, right? Well, here is where the quandary is: Should I tell them about the house’s history?

On one hand, I feel some sense of obligation to tell them–simply in case they experience anything weird and dangerous (mold, rodents, etc) that may have been caused from its previous state. Also, if it were me, I’d kind of want to know.

On the other, the house has been completely renewed since all that happened, so any concerns from the past may be entirely moot. But can I say that for sure?

And just in case you are wondering–there is no way they could read this and figure out I’m talking about them. They barely know my name, let alone what I do, and certainly that I am the Lord of Petworth. So I’m not telling them by posting this.

So, what would you do? Tell or don’t tell?

HEADS UP: The video has some language in it that probably won’t fly blaring out of your office speakers. Oh, and there is some violence and blood. Probably should just say this is NSFW.

What what?

This seems to be blowing up everywhere today. WTOP, DCist, and a bunch of other news outlets have some info, though there doesn’t seem to be much more than a shocking video and a description from police that–hold on to your hat–doesn’t seem to quite match what we see in the video.

Something makes me thing this won’t end well for anyone involved.

So, I’m curious how you describe your neighborhood to people from elsewhere.

Let’s assume for this post that you don’t live in Georgetown or Palisades or Spring Valley. Plus, I’m sure there are other blogs for you people.

Anyhow, I’ve always struggled how to describe my neighborhood to outsiders in a way that’s honest, but respects my neighbors.

For example, I’ve heard lots of people say they live in a “changing neighborhood.” Really? How do your long-term neighbors feel about that term? Do they feel like it’s a changing neighborhood? Or does using terminology like that make them feel like they are part of what’s being changed?

I live in Petworth, just north of Grant Circle. So I often tell people that the gentrification in the rest of the city is happening there, but at a slower, more comfortable, pace. But who knows, even that could be a stupid thing to say.

But I try to stay away from terms like “changing neighborhood” or “gentrifying neighborhood” because I wouldn’t want my neighbors to think I’m eager for them to leave (concerning 92% of them, I hope they stay a long time).

Am I being overly concerned about nothing? How do you describe it?

So “Empire State of Mind,” “New York, New York”–okay, we get it. A lot of people love NYC and want to sing about it. Okay, a lot of people, obviously, as there are hundreds of songs about New York City.

But what about us? We are the most powerful city on Earth. Shouldn’t we get something?

DC has a lot of great music, obviously. Bluegrass, hard core, go go, hip hop, jazz, and even opera. In fact, I’d put DC music up against just about any music scene in the country, if for no other reason than its eclecticism.

But songs about Washington? There we are a little slim.

The ones that come to mind aren’t particularly flattering: Bad Brains “Banned in DC”, “Mt Pleasant Isn’t Anymore” by The Evens, Skip James “Washington DC Hospital Center Blues,” Scapegoat’s “Walk in Washington,” and even Burning Airlines’ “Wheaton Calling.”

Sure, there’s Parliament’s “Chocolate City”–but that’s just cool because it’s Parliament. But that pales in comparison to NYC, which has 22 songs about it that start with the letter “P.”

So let’s co-opt a song. I am willing to use my power and influence as Lord of Petworth to unilaterally decree a song as DC’s theme song–but I’d like your help in picking. If you were going to adopt a song for Washington, DC–a theme song–what would you pick and why?

Okay, before we really get going on my latest reign as Lord of Petworth, I’d like to take a moment to come clean on why I’m here–and why the Prince of Petworth is not.

Last night, our Prince of Petworth got hitched.

He and his brand new wife… (Well, she isn’t “brand new,” really–that would be weird, like marrying an infant or something. No, she’s been around for a few years…a bona fide adult, even.)

ANYHOW, he and his wife are taking a few well-deserved days away to contemplate what they’ve done and how they can get out of it without having to return any of their wedding gifts.

And let me answer the question about the wedding that I know everyone is wondering: Yes, I looked fantastic.

In all seriousness, the wedding was letter perfect. Despite the threat of rain on the outdoor wedding, the sun came out and it was lovely. The Prince definitely “married up,” his bride is not only one of the most charming and kind people I’ve met here in DC, but last night she looked ridiculously beautiful.

And I don’t think the Prince could have smiled any more than he did.

I think it would be great if you folks took a moment to leave the Prince and his bride a shout out in the comments. If 3,000 people can leave comments every time any PoP post mentions crime, gentrification, cats, graffiti, bad restaurant service, or teenagers–than I think you folks can knock out a quick congrats on a happy occasion.

Good morning everyone!

In case you didn’t notice, the world did not end on Saturday.

Apparently, there has been some confusion.

Let me clarify:

It is, in fact, time to prepare yourselves. Time to prepare for something so awesome that it has been foretold in the Bible.

The return of The Lord.

No, actually, not that other Lord.

Me. The Lord of Petworth.

Though they had the date off by a few days. Instead of Saturday, I’m actually returning today. But no worries, I will be gone by Thursday. And don’t get any ideas. Despite what the bible says, I’m not taking any of you with me when I leave. (You should be happy about this.)

In truth, my name is Eric Nuzum. As my lovely wife will tell you, I spend far too much time writing things. I’ve spent the last few years channeling most of my writing energy into my new book, which, when released next spring, will melt your face off with its incredibleness. (You should be happy about this, too.)

However, in a moment of weakness, our beloved Prince of Petworth has, again, asked me emerge from exile to become the Lord of Petworth to fill in while he is gone. And again, in a complimenting moment of weakness, I accepted.

PoP has left a few items behind that will pop up every day–doors, coffee spots, houses, restaurants…you know the drill. It’s kinda like when Mom leaves on a trip and puts a bunch of frozen lasagnas and left-overs in the fridge for you to eat while she’s gone. But, in truth, you have no interest in Mom’s casseroles. You plan to order pizza every night.

That pizza is me.

Kinda.

Well, I think you get what I mean.

Anyhow, I’ll be in and out over the coming days. If you have anything to share with me directly–or ideas for things to write about–you can reach me at eric (dot) nuzum (at) gmail (dot) com.

Enjoy.