DC Intern Diaries

I'm a female 24 year old DC permanent intern. You name it and I've probably interned it. I'm also a graduate student in DC.

Friday, June 17, 2005

The Perfect Man - Heather Locklear, Hillary Duff star in creepy movie

This is the WP movie review...how absolutely creepy that a teenage girl wrote her mother love letters and "romanced" her...for 8 months!....in the real world story, the daughter actually proposed to her mother!!...pretty sick...interesting how they turned a literal greek tragedy into a fluffy cutesy film with Hillary Duff and Heather Locklear!

"Based on the true story of Heather Robinson, who as a teenager invented an imaginary boyfriend for her single mom and conducted a romantic correspondence with her, "The Perfect Man" is creepy as heck. Not as creepy as the original story, to be sure, but creepy lite. Even Robinson, in an interview in Radar magazine, says she doesn't see how the film, starring the ever-insipid Hilary Duff as the 16-year-old daughter and Heather Locklear as her mother, could possibly be as dark as her own experience and subsequent temporary estrangementfrom her mother was. No, dark it is not. Try boring, however."

Monday, June 13, 2005

Cleary Gottlieb Summer Associate Story - Not True!!

I have a report from a reputable source....that the e-mail that's going around isn't true. A drunken associate from another firm PUSHED her into the river and had disappeared once the cops figured out what really happened. And she wasn't arrested - they just took her to the hospital to make sure that she
was okay.

How messed up!! Not only was this poor girl pushed into the Hudson River - but then she is disparaged and embarassed (and I have seen emails with her full name) and made into a joke by other NY summers! How cruel!

Cleary Gottlieb Summer Associate Story

BTW, she is apparently a pre-clerk summer from UVA Law...

FW: First summer associate catastrophe thus far....

I'm sure by now you have all heard the summer-associate most embarrasing-moments stories from past summer classes at your respective firms. See if you can beat this: the other night hundreds of new york summers, including myself, were at a very snooty charity benefit at Pier 60 in Chelsea Piers, put on by a bunch of law firms. Drinks were served in abundance, and it was only a matter of time before some summer associate with a low tolerance made an egregious social faux pas in front of the partners of their firm. What actually took place was better than any of us could have hoped for. In a drunken stupour, a girl from Cleary Gottlieb suggested to those standing around her that they all go for a swim (keep in mind that this was at a restaurant with a deck sitting over the Hudson River, and that once off the deck it was 500 feet back to shore in pretty rough swells of very polluted water). Everyone around looked at her as if she was joking, or crazy. Despite the fact that nobo
dy was willing to join her, she took off her shoes and dress and jumped half-naked into the River, causing, as you can imagine, widespread panic amongst everyone at the party. The coast guard was called in immediately and apparently she was arrested. One can only wonder if that is the sort of behavior that might prevent one from getting an offer at the end of the summer.

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Washington, DC bars for older, more sophisticated interns

I was putting together this list for a fellow intern, who is older and married, downtown, so figured I would share....note this is different than a happy hour list - some of these places have no specials...

Round Robin
Mandarin Hotel bar
Bar Rouge
Sequioas or Tony and Joe's
Sky Terrace
Red Sage
Old Ebbitt Grill
Le Bar
Bobby Van's
Shelley's Backroom
15 Ria

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Dear Alcohol

Dear Alcohol,

First & foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. As my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around in the holidays, hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings.
However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While
I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:

1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-boyfriends/girlfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone
all hours of the night?

2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, b ut why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & white castles)? I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far this time.

3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door
key into the lock.

4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot . I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal & in no way interfere with my daily activities.

5. The "hook-up." Need I say more?

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been
the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this
friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you,
Your biggest fan

1. Innovative
2. Preliminary
3. Proliferation
4. Cinnamon

1. Specificity
2. British Constitution
3. Passive-aggressive disorder

1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing

Ann Coulter on dating in Washington, DC

From George Magazine...
By Ann Coulter

The really appropriate setting for writing an article about dating in
the nation's capital would be home alone in my D.C. apartment on a Saturday
night. By chance, however, I'll be in New York this weekend. By chance,
I've been in New York every weekend for approximately the previous 147 weeks,
give or take a few shuttle mishaps. But since all my stuff is in D.C., I
do have to drop in occasionally. Consequently, I've become a minor
authority on dating in Washington. Maybe not on dating exactly but one crucial
element of any date: "the ask."

Boys in Washington don't know how to ask for a date. What they do is try
to trick you into asking them for a date. They say, "I know you're really
busy, so call me when you'd like to go out to dinner" or "Call me when you're
back in Washington" or, my favorite, "Are we ever going to get together?"
What are you supposed to say to such completely insane things? I've never
figured that out, which is why these conversations tend to end in hostile

"Call me when you'd like to go out for dinner" isn't asking for a date;
it's asking me to ask you for a date. For male readers in Washington, asking
for a date entails these indispensable components: an express request for a
female's company on a particular date for a specific activity. Oh yes,
and the request has to be made to the female herself.

Roughly once every two weeks, I get a woman on my answering machine
asking me if I'd like to go out with some dumb-ass male friend of hers who's
too afraid to call me himself. (For those outside Washington, I'm not

This isn't a screeching, hate-filled, anti-male screed. It Is a
screeching, hate-filled anti-D.C. screed. There's no large sociological point about
relations between the sexes here. It's Washington. I know this, because
while D.C. males are on my answering machine with vague announcements
that they've called, I still get messages from boys in New York saying, for
example, "I have tickets for the opera next Friday. Would you like to

Males in every other city know how to ask for dates. So it's not me;
it's not feminism; it's not the millennium. I've begun aggressively inquiring
of every female I come across:"Pardon, but have you noticed that boys in
Washington don't know how to ask for dates?" The consistent response has
been a raft of stinging denunciations too numerous to catalog here. If I
were asking something preposterous, like "Say, have you noticed all the
alligator carcasses in the street lately?" I wouldn't be getting such
emphatic affirmations every time.

Recently, I asked a female on Capitol Hill about this, and she said
right off, as if I were a psychic, "We were just talking about that on
Saturday night!" She had been discussing it in a mixed crowd and reported that
the boys began hectoring the girls-C'mon, this is the twentieth century.
You're modern women; you can ask for dates. I asked her if waiting for women to
ask them for dates had worked for these guys. No, they just sit around with
friends, year after year, waiting for their theory to play out. This is
also how government programs are conceived and tested, so it makes perfect
sense that only in Washington are males still waiting for action on the no-ask
dating plan.

In fact, the incapacity of the D.C. male to request a date is the
perfect synecdoche for this whole pathetic city. There is a total absence of
normal civilized conventions in Washington. The customer is always wrong, the
cabs don't have meters, and complete strangers ask for the sports section of
your paper on the subway. In every real job I've ever had, it was a
convention for the boss to give a Christmas gift to the people who work for him. In
Washington, minimum-wage staffers take up a collection to buy Christmas
gifts for the senator and chief of staff.

There's a reason boys asking for dates is a convention of civilized
society. First, someone's going to have to face rejection. It may as well be the
aggressive, testosterone-pumping, hunter male. Speaking for myself, I'll
take 69 cents on the dollar (or whatever the current feminist myth is)
never to have to ask for a date. But the whole point of this convention is to
reduce, if not eliminate, the need for rejection anyway. The entire
dating system runs on implicit understandings. If the hunter male doesn't like
a girl, he doesn't call. That's the end of it. If the hunted female
doesn't like the boy, she's unavailable without a good excuse three times in a
row. No explanations, no hurt feelings. When you start fiddling with a
centuries-old system like this, you're just asking for trouble. If you
can't operate by covert signals, you're going to get horrifying,
misery-inducing explanations.

Second, no one makes any money in D.C. From this, I deduce
that young men should make loads of money. There may be grating aspects
to 20- and 30-somethings earning kazillion-dollar bonuses, but at least
wealth gives them the self-confidence to ask for a date. Third, TV is reality
in Washington. Restaurants close at 8 P.M. A few really, really late-night
places stay open until nine or 10, but even these sometimes close
unexpectedly at eight. (In addition to being always wrong, the customer
is an impediment to the serious business of Washington, which is watching
TV.) So everyone is home watching TV all the time. Like many New Yorkers, I
never had a TV, but I got one when I moved to Washington. The peculiar thing
about watching TV after a long lapse is that you are actually aware of TV
changing your perception of reality. I've started subconsciously associating men
of the cloth with murderous Nazi conspiracies, for example. I've got a
million more television-induced perception shifts, but the relevant one here is
that females are invariably the sexual aggressors on TV. The typical romantic
overture on the small screen is boy meets girl, girl drops dress.

TV hasn't ruined me yet, though. My romantic fantasy is still this: Girl meets
moving-company guy, girl moves back to New York.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

DC Intern Guide to DC Happy Hours

The Washington Post's intern guide sucks this year! Are they just lazy? Or completely ignorant of the fact that young 20-something interns might not go or would feel out of place at fancy, adult places like Mortons over somewhere like Lucky Bar or Tequila Grill?

So here's some intern-approriate happy hours that they missed:

Tequila Grill
Buffala Billiards
Lucky Bar
Cafe Citron
Front Page
The Tombs
Red River Grill

Not sure about specials, but cheaper anyway:

Adams Mill
Angry Inch