Steak Your Claim

Hands down the best bang for your buck, lip-smacking steak-house experience in DC area has to be Ray's the Steaks. Located just a block from the Courthouse Metro in Arlington, this no-nonsense, cure for the common over-priced steaks, offers affordable prime cuts, cooked to perfection. Their specialty steaks start at $18 for a juicy 14 oz New York Strip (my favorite) to a $34 8 oz filet topped with seared fioa gras, and everything in between. Each order comes with creamed spinach and sauteed mushrooms (delicious!).

Better yet has to be the wine selection. A bottle of 08 Castle Rock Pinot Noir, for example, will run you $26. A far cry from the $40-something listing for the same label at other establishments.

Dinner for 2. Appetizer, 2 entrees, bottle of wine, will run you as little as $65. An unbelievable value for what I consider to be 4.5 out of 5 star steaks.

Roaring Idiot

tiger, Tiger, TIGER!

"It's his personal life, stop prying... let him work it out in privacy."

Since when do worldwide icons get to dictate when public ends and private begins? Not after smashing your car into two inanimate objects a punch-shot from your driveway, that's for sure. To be clear, I am not a tabloid, TMZ, Perez Hilton fan. The world would be a better place without media outlets such as the aforementioned plastering absurd celebrity behavior across their pages for adolescents to see and associate with importance and status.

I am, however... well I guess I WAS, a huge fan of Tiger Woods. It is somewhat uncharacteristic of me because I love underdogs. Therefore I cannot stand the likes of UF Football, the Yankees, Patriots, etc. But Tiger. That man is in his own world. Somebody so dedicated to a craft that relies on such minutia, and tedious practice is something over which one can be in awe. His gutsy US Open playoff performance, his iron will and nerves of steel. Tiger personified an image that was as close to perfection as humanly possible. Beautiful wife, two kids, unsurpassed athletic ability, and a fierce competitive nature.

When other brain dead athletes are making the front page for DUIs, gun possession, drugs, steroids, it was Tiger who seemed impervious to faults. Okay, yes, he is a golfer, but he still seemed so far above the petty mega-star temptations, a guy who really had his head screwed on straight.

I think guys everywhere who are bummed out by all of this are bummed out not because of adultery, but because we finally saw a hero, who seemed unflappable and rock-solid, tumble and wipe out so hard. Tiger was like James Bond. He's cool, collected, calm under pressure. A kind of personality like Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra, or that Dos Equis guy. He epitomized the phrase "Women want him and men want to be him". And we're mad because now we've seen him unravelled in e-mail, text messages, and VOICE MAILS saying his OWN name. Son of a ----- C'MON MAN! It's not like there's another Tiger you can try to pin that on.

Now I know the feeling that the whole Wizard of Oz crew had when the curtain was pulled back to reveal the real man behind the mask. I mean, have you seen these women he's been having affairs with? And have you seen his wife? Hello?!?! Blonde Swedish bombshell, the mother of your two children or some nightclub skanks you met in Vegas and NY who look like they have fat from Roseanne's ass injected in their lips?

This guy had it all, but, in truth, he is just an insecure nerd who tried to bolster his ego by proving to himself he could get girls. His Stanford teammates did call him Erkel. Somebody please take his man-card away.

Ooo Rah!

I finally realized my goal of running a marathon yesterday and it turned out being everything I expected and more.

The Marine Corps Marathon is tremendously unique in that it does not offer any cash prizes, therefore it is titled "The People's Marathon". And what could be more fitting than running a marathon not in the quest for prize money (not that it is an attainable goal for most) but instead, running for the sheer act of running. The whole idea rings with symbolically with the reason our troops do what they do. They fight and protect because they are drawn to it and see it as a duty.

Running in the marathon is not just about personal selfish accomplishments, as I found out. It is also about the people you see and how you become one more part of the overall experience.

I witnessed men running with full post and flags (Marine, US, and Support Our Troops). The pride when you see that, no matter your political position, swells. I realized, if they can run with those flags for 26.2, then so can I.

I ran next to a man who was pushing his disabled 5 year-old son in his wheelchair. A truly selfless and incredibly touching act. I realized if that father can pour so much heart into running AND pushing, then I can surely manage to run 26.2.

I saw countless hand-bike competitors, many of them part of teams comprised of double amputee soldiers. I cheered them on with other runners as they tortured their arms going up steep inclines. Sometimes they were going the pace of a crawling toddler, but they kept going, which is all that matters. And I realized if they can dedicate themselves to our county, loss parts of their body, go through intense rehab, and come back to compete in a marathon, then I can manage it too.

I also witnessed amputees, who were fortunate enough to be able to function with lower prosthetics, chugging along as if to say, "what? I don't have lower legs? No big deal." And I realized if they could muster the courage to go through the pain, then so could I.

I watched as Marines in full camo, boots, and rucksacks, lumbered along the trail. Suddenly the pounding MY feet were taking in my comfortable, ventilated Brooks running shoes didn't seem so bad compared to what they were feeling in the military issue combat boots.

I saw some incredible things during the marathon, before, and after. But the most amazing thing is that each person, whether they interact with each other physically, is emotionally and mentally drawing off of each other to push themselves further down the course.

Was it tempting to quit when, at mile 17, a pain shot through my knee? Yea, a little. Was it tempting to quit when that pain stayed with me for every stride after that? I guess it crossed my mind. Was it tempting to quit running through Georgetown seeing "All You Can Drink Mimosas If You Quit Now" sign? Well, no, but it did seem delicious. But when it came down to it I just looked around and thought, "if everybody around me can keep going, then so can I". And I managed to keep going for 26.2 miles, through the most enduring and persistent pain. But the thing is, everybody is going through the same thing, so you know you're not alone.

I realized the funny thing about distance running, particularly during a marathon, is that the runner is in complete control, every second. You can quit whenever you want, mile 1, mile 25, whenever you want. You control every ounce of pain you are experiencing, but you keep running, causing more pain. It is the oscillation between pain and the desire to see it through to the finish. It is the ultimate mind over matter because it is truly amazing what your mind can accomplish and trick your body into doing.

So, while I feel like Ray Lewis just took my legs out from under me on an end-around, I can't help but to chuckle and hobble at the same time. It doesn't matter how much it hurts now, it wouldn't even matter if it hurt weeks from now because I tortured myself and disillusioned myself and managed to tell myself, through all the pain, that it wasn't a big deal, to stop being a pussy and just keep running.

Because if they can do it, so can I.

A huge thanks to everybody who helped me.

Forgive and Forget...like you have amnesia

Our "National Past time" has been dragged through the mud, them stomped on until unconscious. The worst part is, we let these jerks keep their feelings of entitlement on top of their pedestals. Bud Selig, possibly the most pathetically wimpish commissioner, allows the players union to bully their way out of drug tests and into "are you fucking kidding me?" contract numbers.

Recently Manny Ramirez, after receiving a 50 game suspension for a banned substance, in an act of bewilderment said "it's not like I killed anybody." Really?! No you didn't kill anybody, but what you did test positive for was a female hormone that is taken by steroid users to mask the inflated levels of testosterone in their system. So while you didn't kill anybody, asshole, you did BLATANTLY cheat, and BLATANTLY try to cover it up... that's premeditated cheating in the 1st degree, Manny.

And have you read the quotes spewed out by the accused. And by the accused I mean their publicist, their sports agent, and the lawyer. It's so sad how disengenuous these CHEATERS sound while they read apologies off a sheet of paper prepared by their goon squad. Here are a few of my favorite:

Mark McGwire, "Asking me or any other player to answer questions about who took steroids in front of television cameras will not solve the problem... My lawyers have advised me that I cannot answer these questions without jeopardizing my friends, my family and myself. I intend to follow their advice." pussy

Here's a good one-two punch by Jason Giambi, "Guys that work their butts off and they're hitting home runs, now it's because they're on steroids. Even injuries, a guy gets hurt, 'Oh, he's on steroids.' It's a little sickening to me." 2002... 5 years later after getting caught in 2007......

"I was wrong for doing that stuff. What we should have done a long time ago was stand up -- players, ownership, everybody -- and said: 'We made a mistake.'" what a two-faced douche

And Manny's explanation, "Recently I saw a physician for a personal health issue. He gave me a medication, not a steroid, which he thought was OK to give me. Unfortunately, the medication was banned under our drug policy." I think I just had a minor seizure

These guys are all horribly pathetic simply because they believe that their veil of twisted logic and lie-through-the-teeth mentality is bought by the public. They deny deny deny and think that is good enough because it's how they can snake out of accusations in front of Congress. Barry Bonds says he was a "late bloomer" when he put on 40 LBS of muscle at age 36, like his testosterone cycle kicked in 12 years later than 98% of men in this country. Not to mention he is the only player in history to have progressively better numbers (in most categories, HR, RBIs, Slugging, AVG.) from age 35 to 40.

Crap, I realized I just passed my testosterone peak (age 24)... gotta go shoot up.

The Daily WTF?!

From Hedge Fund to Hobo Austin, TX

After what has already been a tumultuous year in the financials, further news shook the very foundation of the industry when it was leaked that the leading contender for hedge fund analyst of the year, David Allen, of Lafitte Capital Management, is considering voluntary homelessness.

“The very idea of a hedge fund analyst not ridiculously flaunting his status by getting a loft or penthouse, or at least a Beamer, is absurd!” said T Henry Jacobson III, formerly an up and coming Bear Sterns Sr Analyst. But becoming homeless, by choice, Jacobson added, “well that feat hasn’t been attempted since “Stinky Joe” Miller, in the recession of ’88.” Allen has declined to comment, mostly because he never answers his phone, but there is speculation that he refuses to admit he is technically living with his girlfriend. A close friend of Allen's, Charles Joseph commented, “Who is he kidding?! I was there for one weekend and counted 237 ‘honey bears’ and, on one occasion, heard him refer to her as ‘schnookie pie butter cup’, what the fuck does that even mean?” However, a source close to Allen did site an out-dated, yet still valid, obscure Texas law, whereby the father can rightfully defend his daughter’s innocence from any adult male he deems threatening. “The law dictates that the father can violently retaliate against any perceived threat against his daughter” University of Texas Law Professor H. Thurman Montgomery IV said “especially if that threat is perpetrated by a Northerner, or somebody who is not native to our fine country of Texas.” After this news was shared with a good friend of Allen's, Bryan Delie said, “well, in that case, it might not be such a bad idea, considering her parents don’t even think they hold hands.” He later added, “I wonder what the law would allow Mr. Zinkler to do if he knew Allen was Ogdening on his daughter every other Wednesday.”

Still yet, others point to possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) Allen may have suffered when, as a bright eyed, optimisstic Tulane University Undergraduate, he was violently uprooted from his off-campus residence during Hurricane Katrina. “Zer have certainly beeen many casez of PTSD among Katrina veecteems” Psychiatrist Herman Zurrheiller notes, “but I have not had ze opportunity to examine many of zem because zey cannot afford my hourly rate.” Herman then went on to explain that many Jewish American Princesses have been among his patients and they have, indeed exhibited substantial symptoms of PTSD, as a result of losing pearl necklaces, Louis Vuitton bags, and priceless other Bat Mitzvah and Hannukah presents. After Katrina Allen did experience a bit of a gypsy-like existence, bouncing around from state to state, until he finally settled into Univeristy of Texas, a source said.

Very recently, rapper Juvenile released a statement upon hearing the news of David Allen's voluntary homelessness, “Even I know Hedge Funds is suppose to be about high rollin’. Bitches and benzes, Courvoisier and Dom Perignon, gettin’ white tigers as pets and shit. Damn, that boy musta lost his mind!” Strong words from a once-influential character in Allen's life.
It remains to be seen if the feat can be pulled off and close friends question whether the homelessness is due to the recent struggles of the Emerging markets, and Allen's attempt to deflect their affect on him personally, or his undying denial of the seriousness of his 4 year relationship with Tania Zinkler. “I just hope he can get a grip and realize you can’t bring randos back to the cot in your office” Jon Kassolis said. While support for Allen is widespread there still remains doubt as to the legality of residing in a commercially-zoned office.
Friends remain close by Allen's side, figuratively, and will continue to offer advice.

Bryan Del Monte is a freelance writer based out of Washington, DC

No Surgery Necessary

SO.... In a most ironic moment, about 6 hours after I posted my traffic ticket dilemmas I was pulled over for rolling through a stop sign.

I pulled over and sat there while the officer's spotlight shined into my side view mirror, directing the beam into my eyes, kind of laughing at myself about the irony of the situation. "Is there a reason you didn't come to a complete stop at that stop sign back there?"

"Officer I really apologize I was actually just talking to my sister on the phone and found out she just broke her leg" Kind of true... my sister did pull her hamstring and I was talking to my girlfriend about it.

Bottom line, he GAVE ME A WARNING! Woohoo! I'm not quite sure why but it happened and I figured I would share the irony.

Breast Augmentation?

I don't mean to sound as if I get traffic tickets everyday. I can count on one hand the amount I've been given in my eight years of hands-on experience. But, I would like to know who these people are who, when in conversation about tickets, say, "O yea, I've gotten a few warnings". Warnings? As in, "I'm warning you, if you don't find your proof of insurance I'm taking you straight downtown" kind of warning?

I must have "dickhead" tattooed on my forehead because every instance in which I have been pulled over has resulted in a ticket, or multiple ones for coinciding offences. Take, for example, the time I was pulled over and unbuckled my seat belt to take my wallet out of my pocket... yep, he sure did write me up for not wearing my seat belt, tack that on to a "riding on parts unintended" thanks to my friend who was hanging out the window. O yea, and the time my boss transferred his company car to me with expired tags and an expired registration. Hmmmmm, I wonder if I got pulled over for that one? YEAAAAA, "I'm gonna go ahead and give you failure to provide proof of insurance, failure to provide registration (which was nowhere to be found in the glove compartment) and driving with expired tags." Awesome, thanks officer... and boss.

Sometimes I think of the line from Vegas Vacation when the black jack dealer tells Clarke, "Why don't you give me half your money, we'll go out back, I'll kick you in the nuts, and we'll call it even?"

I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong, I'm not a jerk and am on my utmost behavior when I get pulled over, I swear. It's all, yes sir, I'm sorry officer, etc etc etc. The greatest display of ass-kissing you can imagine. Maybe I need to flip the script and try out some jokes on the cop, "Sorry, officer, but my wife ran off with a State Trooper a few years back and when I saw you following me I thought you were trying to bring her back!" ***BA-DA CHING*** (joke courtesy of Kent Woolard). Or, maybe, as a female friend recently shared her get-out-of-jail-free story, I should be wearing a high school cheerleading outfit and have a friend with large - how shall I say this - chesticles, sitting shotgun. Hmmmm, it might be worth it, but with my luck I'd get pulled over by a chick who wouldn't quite see the humor in the situation.

I've never seriously considered bribery, mostly because it's a bit above misdemeanor level, but I'm getting close. My next move is to name drop a few high-ranking officers I know like crazy... A ploy my friend uses to perfection (although his timing is a little off... he dropped his Police Luitenant Uncle's name after he was put in cuffs on the side of the highway for a misunderstanding on the officer's part). Or perhaps getting ahold of an FOP (Fraternal Order of Police) suppoter sticker along with one of those black with a blue stripe bumper stickers that indicate a member of your family is an officer. A former baseball teammate of mine got pulled over going 110mph (that's right, ONE HUNDRED AND TEN) in a 40mph zone on some country road (he has FOP plates for his brother and Dad) and the officer said "who's a cop in your family?".... "Go home and thank them". Are you kidding me?!?!

O well, I'll take 'em as they come and roll with the punches, and maybe get some good feedback from any males out there who have a few tricks up their sleeve. No offense, ladies, but you all have what I never will, so please don't take it personally when I say that it wasn't your charming personality that got you out of that ticket.