On Friday I went to see Vladimir Ashkenazy conduct the National Symphony Orchestra through Sibelius’ Symphony No.1, Oceanides, and Symphony No. 7. The music was beautiful, and Ashkenazy was adorable. To top the night off, a woman sat behind me and taught me a lot about how to behave at the symphony. Here’s what I learned:

• Know What You’re Seeing. When you first sit down and ask your husband, “Now what are we seeing tonight?” it makes you sound like a snob. This isn’t an Edith Wharton novel. You don’t need to go to the symphony just to be seen. Go because you like music.
• Don’t Call People Stupid. When people clap at inappropriate moments, don’t cry out, “Stupid people! What stupid people! Stupid! Stupid!”
• Plan Ahead. Need your glasses? Need a tissue? Need another tissue? Decide you don’t need your glasses? It’s really best just to dump your purse out on your lap before the performance begins. Don’t zip, unzip, zip, unzip, zip your purse. It’s really just a waste of time.
• Request an Aisle Seat. This way you don’t have to loudly declare at intermission, “These seats are horrible! I will never sit here again! Really, with how often we come it’s ridiculous they don’t give us aisle seats! Ridiculous!” Bonus: You can put your feet in the aisle so you don’t kick the seat in front of you every couple minutes.
• Use Lotion. If you keep your skin moist, you don’t have to spend long periods of time scratching your knuckles.
• Don’t Take Your Boredom Out on the Program. It’s there to help you. Don’t rip through the pages like there’s money hidden in them. Be gentle. Some say it’s even possible to turn a page soundlessly.

Thank you, fellow audience member. You have taught me well.

Girl 1: Did you like the movie? I thought it was fun, but I didn’t like the ending?
Girl 2: Yeah, the ending was, like, too depressing for me. But the characters were really likable so…
Girl 1: It’s still early? Let’s get a drink? There’s this great bar a block away?
Girl 2: OK. I wonder if they have mojitos. I love mojitos so…
Girl 1: Yeah, I, like, totally love mojitos?
Girl 2: I wonder why I can’t just end a sentence. Why do I always trail off with so? So…
Girl 1: I don’t know? Why can’t I speak without turning everything into a question? It’s weird?
Girl 2: And annoying so…

What the hell, people! This is, like, totally going to ruin your day, but start listening for people who end their sentences with the word “so.” Or with an unnecessary inflection. It will drive you crazy.

A year or so ago, my boyfriend bought a 1979 Chevy LUV truck from upstate New York. It was old. It was rusty. It had some holes. But it was a good little truck. It'd been through a lot. Who knows how much hay it hauled or how many bumpy back roads it traversed. That good little truck survived the drive from New York to D.C. And it survived little trips around the city. (Except for that one time it broke down in the Whole Foods parking lot, which I think it did on purpose out of protest.)

But this good little truck couldn't survive Shaw.

Some hooligan shot out the back window of the Chevy LUV. I can only assume it was a BB gun because of the small hole it left in the window, which turned into a spider web of cracks. (Who the hell buys their kid a BB gun in the city, I have no idea. I guess no one worried he would shoot his eye out.) Turns out you can't find a replacement window for a 1979 Chevy LUV. So the truck’s trips were limited to street-cleaning moves, letting its engine sit all too idle.

This morning, I tried to move the truck for street cleaning. I got in and shut the door, broken glass fell on my back as usual. I tried to start it several times but only got an ear-piercing squeal and many stalls. Then the Chevy LUV bled a green-black liquid down the street. RIP, Chevy LUV. You were no match for Shaw.

This topic may be a bit unseemly, and I'm usually too apathetic (except, maybe, about foie gras) to start a movement, but someone has to say it. Ladies, you gotta stop this hovering over the toilet bullshit. Get your quad workout somewhere else. You hoverers are the ones causing the problem. You're the ones splattering all over the seat. Leave aiming to the men. Sit down. The backs of your legs can't pick up diseases. If everyone sits down, then the seat stays clean. Let's work together. Let's sit.

I thought we, as a civilization, were going downhill. Smoking bans are spreading across the country. New York is outlawing trans fat. Chicago (and soon California) put the kibosh on foie gras. Apparently it's cruel. (Too bad it's oh so delicious.) But there is light at the end of the smokeless, healthy, svelte tunnel. Chicago has overturned its two-year-old foie gras ban. Does this mark a new bellwether? Does my future involve eating a plate of foie gras, followed by a doughnut fried in trans fat, and finished off with a cigarette over a cocktail? One can only hope.

The Kentucky Derby may be over, but the Preakness and the Belmont are still looming. So there is time to perfect that ever-tricky drink, the mint julep. The Post ran a very helpful column in last week's food section devoted to the julep. Jason Wilson points out that there are many, many variations on the mint julep, and everyone seems to have a strong opinion about the "right" recipe. "The drink, so seemingly straightforward, just causes arguments," writes Wilson. For Wilson's recipe, click here. After much experimenting the other day, I humbly offer my own tips for the mint julep:

1. Buy plenty of mint. I bought plenty of mint at my Harris Teeter and then forgot it in the office fridge. On a Friday. On Saturday I bought two adorable mint plants at the Mount Pleasant farmers market, with images of many mint-julep-filled Sundays in my future. After making drinks for four on Sunday, my little plants are mere twigs. I'm not sure if they'll recover.

2. Take the time to crush the ice. I didn't. It's still a fine drink, but the crushed ice is much more refreshing. And it eases the guilt factor for boozing while people are still at church.

3. Sparkling water trumps soda water. I tried them both ways, and the soda water gives the drink an unwanted bitter taste. Buy a small bottle of sparkling; you don't need much.

4. Take the time to make simple syrup. I first tried muddling the leaves with regular sugar. Sure, it helps to tear those leaves up, but you end up with a layer of sugar at the bottom of the glass. Bad for the sugar. Bad for the drink.

5. Buy some aspirin. After a long day of sweet drinks, you're gonna feel it the next morning.

Good news for all you seafood lovers. Barton Seaver, chef of the acclaimed Hook, has opened Tackle Box. This new joint not only shares the same block of Georgetown as Hook, but it also shares Seaver's dedication to sustainable seafood. But in a more casual setting. From the Web site, the reasoning for opening a second place: "We like summer vacation at the beach. That’s why we decided to open a lobster shack in the middle of the city for those days we couldn’t make the drive." The menu includes such things as clam chowder, oysters, a "Maine Meal," which includes one fish, two sides, and a sauce, and, of course, rolls. And who doesn't love a good lobster roll? Has anyone made it over to M Street to try out the new grub?

Earth Day is coming up. I totally support Earth Day. But not when it comes to my theater program. Some friends and I went to see The History Boys at Studio Theatre over the weekend. (Definitely worth seeing, by the way. They've extended the run through May 18, so go buy tickets.) Shortly before the play began we realized we had no programs. Nobody had programs. Upon questioning, one staff member said the lack of programs was Studio's way of observing Earth Day. I appreciate where they're coming from, but I want my freakin' program. I paid for that program. I'm happy to give it back at the end of the play, but I want to know about the play. I want to know who the actors are. I want something to fiddle with if I get bored. So thank you, Studio, for thinking of the environment, but give me back my program.

In case you haven't been following it, two of our intrepid staffers have been braving the mean streets of D.C. during happy hour in a selfless service to our beloved readers. During the month of April, the Corcoran Gallery of Art's 1869 Society is hosting a contest in which 15 area restaurants have designed "artinis." You're supposed to hop around, drink these concoctions, and then vote for them. And there's, of course, a big ole party to unveil the winner. Well, our very own Ted and Brian are giving you previews of what to expect in a video blog! I highly recommend checking out their artini blog.