There are words, phrases that you think will never enter mainstream usage. But every once in a while, I get shocked when a word or phrase suddenly goes legit.

Take “pussy.” I never thought “pussy” would become part of the larger world. Now even liberal TV comedians are dropping “pussy” like it’s nothing. “The Daily Show” dropped pussy more than once on Monday and Tuesday’s shows.There was the awesome joke about a straight–as opposed to McDonald’s–fast-food chain called something like “Fried Chicken and Pussy.” And Stewart himself seems to regularly call himself a “pussy.”

Now, Slate gives the world the “chubby” with this headline: “No Chubby For Old Men.” The story is on ED and whether or not it’s normal and why it’s perceived as normal. And maybe it shouldn’t be. But I only skimmed the piece. I’m still marveling at the fact that they brought “chubby” out in the open. I didn’t think getting a semi had become mainstream headline fodder. Wow.

I’m cool with it. Just surprised.

Oh, what’s next? Fisting?

Virginia Tech unloads a small document dump spurred by a FOIA and the terms of the June 17 settlement that sheds light on what school officials were thinking in the wake of the school massacre. The Post discovers: school brass were concerned about their image!

The Post writes:

“Within a week of the incident, one memo shows, university officials had developed a media strategy that centered on three main messages: ‘We will not be defined by this event,’ ‘Invent the future’ and ‘Embrace the Virginia Tech Family.’”

School administrators handpicked sources for the media and coached them, and graded published stories from a rating ranging from positive to negative. None of this is much of a surprise. I was there covering the tragedy. If you wanted to get beyond the press conferences and well-staged interviews, it was easy. V-Tech is a huge campus with thousands of students and faculty. There were plenty of people willing to go off message. And the Post did amazing work according to our media critic. But I don’t blame the school for trying to manage the tragedy.

Still. This guy really is naive. The silliest suggestion came from an administrator who tried to get the school to coin its own tragedy phrase:

“A two-page memo from Chris Clough, who works in the University Relations office, is dedicated to the language choices the school had to make.

‘We likely will live with the label ‘Virginia Tech massacre,’ or ‘Virginia Tech tragedy’ for years to come in the media, however, we can use our own language in our own media to help prevent the event from defining us and may gain success in influencing history,’ he wrote.

Clough offered three suggestions on how to refer to the killings. The first is the ‘West AJ/Norris tragedy’ because it ‘confines the incident to specific locations within the university and doesn’t allow it to completely define the university,’ he wrote. Then there is the ‘Holocaust Day tragedy’ because the shooting fell on the same day as the Holocaust remembrance day Yom Hashoah. Finally, he suggests, the ‘Best and Brightest tragedy.’

An IHOP opened in Congress Heights three days ago. Normally, this would not qualify as big news. The International House of Pancakes isn’t exactly a place of culinary wonder; its slogans are either corny (”An American Icon”) or sad (”This is My IHOP”). The sorriest thing in the world isn’t John McCain’s new ad featuring Britney or Fox’s morning show. It’s this video of a marriage ceremony performed at an IHOP. IHOP is no Original House of Pancakes (the best breakfast place of all time).

Still. The pancake/crepe/T-bone joint is the first major sitdown to open up in Ward 8 since forever. Or long before Barry used the ward’s council seat as his retirement fund. Zing! So Ward 8 finally enters the world of food–huge, huge portions, low, low price–made for old people and drunks.

The CW is that IHOP is a greasy spoon made somewhat depressing by the embarrassingly-named deals, super-sweet concoctions (it’s latest being an apple-cobbler-themed pancake special), and the fact that you must be hammered to consume such products. The food seems created by incredibly stoned evangelicals: wholesome turned vaguely unwholesome.

These are food stuffs mainly inhaled during the hours of 2 a.m. to 4 a.m. It’s dark outside and lonely inside. You only go to IHOP when you’ve struck out for the night. You aren’t getting laid. Fuck it, you go to IHOP, your drunken stupor made correct with eggs, sausage, bacon, three buttermilk pancakes, and bottomless coffee.

That was the Old IHOP.

The New IHOP is located on Alabama Avenue SE just inside the Camp Simms Giant parking lot. The New IHOP is bright, warm, inviting, clean, and boasts 37 cheery employees for every customer. The New IHOP has Karen: The Most Dedicated Waitress Ever.

Karen was our server.

When Karen approached our table, she glowed. This was her second night, she told us. Thank you sitting in her section, she told us. She is very excited, she told us.

My source I was eating with offered a nervous smile to all her replies. After she gave us our bottomless sodas and iced-Ts, she smiled some more. You guys ready, she asked.

My source wanted to know why she was so excited.

“I’m alive,” Karen said and then took in a deep breath proving she was alive.

OK.

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A week or two ago, I spent serious time commuting to and from Henson Ridge for a story on the struggling Hope VI community. As far as appearances go, the neighborhood is well-made, well-designed, and has some nifty new playgrounds. On closer inspection, teenagers still gravitate toward the decrepit rec center and crummy basketball courts, and have converted a set of jersey barriers into a hangout spot. Violence has inched up. Residents have started complaining about trash piling up at those new playgrounds, the lack of routine upkeep, and the need for more cops on their new streets.

There’s tension between renters vs. homeowners, grandmothers vs. bored teenagers, and residents seeking comfort and quiet vs. residents or visitors sipping the cheap stuff in public.

But what felt so much like the old housing project days wasn’t these gripes. It was hearing residents talk about the management company–Edgewood.

Of course, I didn’t interview every resident. And some I did talk to had no complaints and loved Henson Ridge. But there were others who shared a different history. There was the resident whose air conditioner had been broken for a week. She says she called Edgewood multiple times and even visited their offices in Henson Ridge twice. She was still without AC.

And there were the three residents who had bullet holes in their walls. Two of whom made reference to promises Edgewood had made to them. And still the holes hadn’t been fixed. I don’t know about you but I’d prefer a kitchen without a bullet hole.

Schnetia Green, 65, had lived with a bullet hole above her kitchen table for more than a month. She had complained but could get no one from Edgewood to fix it. Then I showed up at her door.

A few days after my story ran on Henson Ridge, she called to give me the good news. The hole had been fixed.

“It just got fixed Monday,” Green says. “But look how long it was open before they fixed it?”

Yeah. But that was before Washington City Paper came to the rescue, right? Did the management company, um, mention my story?

“They didn’t mention it,” Green says.

Very interesting. Edgewood not only fixed her pocked wall but they went ahead and fixed her droopy ceiling. They probably expected a follow-up expose! Right?

The on-going battle over vending operations around Nationals Park took a step toward a resolution this afternoon. A D.C. Superior Court judge ruled against three vendors seeking to halt the Department of Consumer and Regulatory Affairs‘ current practice of assigning vendors to sites outside the stadium via a lottery.

Judge Brook Hedge denied the vendors’ motion for a preliminary injunction against DCRA.

The vendors had serious gripes against the city agency for a number of reasons–some of which were sketched out in the motion, some were not. The city took too long in formulating a system for assigning vendor sites at Nationals Park, they say. After emergency legislation was passed for some 40 possible locations, DCRA awarded only 28 locations–and all the locations were north of M Street. Most of the sites would be lucky to get a handful of Nats fans let alone make any real profit. You can see the 28 locations with this handy map.

Another 14 sites had been awarded in a lottery last week. Those sites were closer to Nationals Park. Another lottery is scheduled for today.

Update 5:19 p.m.: The vendors had argued before the court that DCRA should not have held the lottery–that the D.C. Police Department should be in charge. There also needed to be more back-and-forth over the lottery process itself.

Judge Hedge wrote in her opinion: “Plaintiffs’ claims rest on shaky ground. Contrary to plaintiffs’ arguments, on April 23, 2008, the Mayor did issue a delegation of authority for the vending site and vending selections at Nationals Park to the Director of the DCRA…The proposed regulations do not require that non-R.F.K. Stadium-vendor-applicants be licensed prior to entry into the lottery.” The Judge went on to write that the vendors weren’t losing that much money since working the Nationals Park was only a part-time job. And that the vendors’ gripes were minor.

Judge Hedge wrote: “It is evident from the legislative history discussed above that this was a fast-moving situation and that, in order to maintain peace and tranquility, given the prior events which led to the vendor moratorium, and that the City Council expected vendor sites to be allocated for the full baseball season, that emergency regulations were necessary…”

This might be my final installment into the saga that is the life of Captain Melvin Gresham—a D.C. Police Department official who appears to always be in the center of intrigue and controversy. According to his civil-suit complaint filed in June, Gresham is a hero/whistle blower/all-around standup cop. To cop sources, he’s a supervisor who needs some leadership training asap.

“I had to bang heads with him, very disagreeable is the way he investigated things. He never has any proof. When we go to arbitration against him, he loses most of the arbitrations. We’ve had several arbitration hearings with our members and he’s lost. All the evidence is, ‘What I heard.’ Nothing ever of substance. He never has any real evidence against anybody. When you’re a policeman, you have to have solid facts,” says one veteran officer.

Gresham has his followers. Many of whom have commented on this post and our last installment.

The current Gresham dustup stems from a traffic accident. The allegation: Gresham got into a fender bender and pressured an officer to change the accident report in his favor.

In Gresham’s complaint, he addresses the accident on page 10, bullet-point No. 23. Or rather, he dances around the allegations, focusing mainly on picking apart the testimony and character of Lt. Mike Smith.

The complaint hones in on anonymous letter (was it written by Smith?), Smith’s believing that Gresham is a very rich man, and the allegation that Smith admitted to “tampering” with evidence. “Lt. Smith was off duty and had no actual basis for interjecting himself into the investigation,” the complaint states.

The complaint notes that the police department withdrew the charges against Gresham. “However, Chief Lanier insisted on serving Cpt. Gresham an official reprimand.” The reprimand addresses the very serious allegation of witness intimidation:

According to the complaint, the reprimand reads:

“Internal Affairs Agent Denise Garrett investigated the alleged misconduct. Agent Garrett determined that your demeanor and subsequent confrontation with the reporting officer was intimidating and may have jeopardized the impartiality of the accident investigation.”

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In our latest installment on the complicated life of Captain Melvin Gresham, we dip back into the complaint he filed in late June as part of his civil suit against the D.C. Police Department and other top officials.

[Wanna play catch up on this exhaustive blog series: go here, here, and here.]

I ended the last installment with a rundown over Gresham detailing a sexual harassment case brought by Lt. Rhonda Nunnally. In his complaint, Gresham had claimed to have stood up for her when she was allegedly physically assaulted by a “Lt. Delgado.” Gresham claims in the complaint that he was barred from arresting Delgado.

The complaint goes on to allege:

*Gresham’s help was sought in covering up for Nunnally’s attacker Phillip Graham. Delgado, the complaint states, leaped over Gresham on the org. chart going from an Lt. to an Inspector. “Cpt. Gresham was then assigned to Lt. Delgado in what can only be a retaliatory act,” the complaint states.

*In October 2007, two lawyers from the Office of the Attorney General met with Gresham. At this meeting, they allegedly offer him a promotion and a “prestigious assignment in Police Headquarters if he changed his testimony and DENIED that ‘he had been instructed to target Lt. Nunnally and drive her from the workplace.’ Gresham immediately ratted out these two lawyers to Nunnally’s counsel. Superior Court Judge Natalie Combs-Green refused to permit Capt. Gresham from testifying about this incident.

Green stated, according to the complaint’s transcript:

“I thought it appropriate to have a hearing, if for no other reason to permit the parties an opportunity in open court to briefly express themselves and to give the Court, quite frankly, the opportunity to express my disappointment at this type of filing.”

“Particularly, I guess, the type of language that was used in the filing and upon closer examination, the sort of, and I will make specific reference, careless throwing around of names in the pleadings, which could be injurious to the professional stature of all the attorneys involved, and which I think diminishes our system for all of us of justice.”

It gets better.

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Unless you’re a jerk, the yearly arrival of the giant pain in your ass known as the D.C. Superpages is not as welcome as, say, the SI Swimsuit Issue. Fear not, City Deskers! I have the answers!

To get off the delivery list, call 1-800-888-8448. Pick option No. 2. Wait for someone to answer. Tell her it’s 2008 now and you use the tubes if you need a number. Voila! NOW: They’re coming this week, so you better hurry up if it’s not already too late. If it is and you need to purge last year’s and this year’s, the Mayor’s Call Center promises the city will recycle the monstrosities if you throw them in with regular recycling.

Go forth and save the earth.

Photo by Rich Anderson

As promised, City Desk has more from the Captain Melvin Gresham saga. The first installment provided a recap of events and the detailing of Gresham’s lawsuit against the D.C. police and various named officials. Gresham cited the Whistleblower Protection Act and various alleged conspiracies to get him and other top brass.

Here are some more allegations Gresham puts forth in his civil suit complaint:

• Gresham accuses then-Assistant Chief Jose Acosta of ordering him to “set up” Commander Winston Robinson. Acosta allegedly wanted Gresham to “assist in sabotaging Commander Robinson’s leadership initiatives.” According to the complaint, Acosta told Gresham that the order was at the “behest of the ‘Chief’” and if he didn’t comply he “would be targeted.”

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A while ago, I posted a blog item noting WTOP’s reporting that Capt. Melvin Gresham (at the time a supervisor in the 3rd District) had gotten himself into some hot water over a traffic accident.

WTOP wrote:

“WTOP has learned Capt. Melvin Gresham from the Third District Police station in Northwest was involved in an accident with a Metro bus while driving his department vehicle. Gresham told a subordinate officer, who responded to the accident, to change a police report to indicate the Metro bus driver was at fault.”

I went ahead and interviewed two police officials about the incident. One of them was Lt. Mike Smith who was interviewed by internal affairs about the incident. Smith had come on the accident scene and was well versed in the events on the scene. I also interviewed another police official who had previous dealings with Gresham and characterized the supervisor as “not a fair person.”

The blog item was fairly run of the mill: a graph or two taken from the WTOP piece and some quick phone calls piggybacking on the news. This did not stop the comment box from filling up with allegations that my reporting had been way off or to keep everyone updated on the latest in the case or personally slam Lt. Smith.

In late June, Gresham filed a lawsuit in U.S. District Court. He listed as the defendants in the case: Chief Cathy Lanier, Assistant Chief Jose Acosta, the police department as well as other officers and officials including Lt. Smith. The complaint alleges the defendants retaliated against Gresham under the Whistleblower Protection Act, defamation, breach of contract, and “intentional infliction of Emotional Distress.”

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Bells, whistles, blogs, Dateline homages, and….no news. Can someone please point out the new info, the new reporting that went into the Post’s Chapter 4 in the Chandra Levy Saga?

The police may or may not have leaked info. The police may or may not have lied early on about Gary Condit. Big deal.

Chandra Levy’s parents have every right to their grief, every right to seek justice for their daughter’s death. They have every right to think their daughter is the most interesting story ever. That’s all understandable. I feel bad for them, for what happened to their daughter. But.

But reporters, they have choices. They can pick their stories (sometimes).

I hate to say this but Chandra Levy is boring. She interned. She liked to work out. She messed around with a boring congressman (watched HBO, had sleepovers, gushed to friends ala Monica). She was killed by probably a random assailant.

The most interesting moment in the entire Post series is the reporters’ decision to a) describe the contents of Chandra Levy’s suitcase and b) use the word “panties” instead of “underwear.”

See that picture? Pretty sweet bathroom, right? That’s pretty much what I’ve been dealing with on my apartment hunt. Sure, I’ve seen some OK places, even places that I would kill to occupy–or at least lie about having a pet before signing that lease. But the majority of the places I’ve seen have been dumps.

I’ve realized that I’m not that great at apartment hunting. Or at least not that lucky. I’ve also realized landlords also don’t know what they’re doing. Here are some things they should consider when trying to rent out their one-bedroom apartments:

1) “Near RFK Stadium” –no matter that it’s tucked in parens in your craigslist posting–is not a selling point. Have you been to RFK? It’s an empty bowl surrounded by empty parking lot. Unless you are a soccer fan, it’s useless. It has had over 40 years to turn into the next Chinatown. And I don’t see a Ruby Tuesday opening up anytime soon! Still, “near RFK” is a better selling point than “near the D.C. Jail” or “near the old D.C. General.”

2) If you are showing a roomy one-bedroom near the freeway overpass in Cap Hill, it might be a good idea to shampoo your shitty carpet. Apartments shouldn’t smell like dog.

3) Whether you’ve converted your Dupont row house or Mount Pleasant home into rentals, putting blinds over walls or shelves doesn’t necessarily make one think that counts as a window.

4) If you are posting photos of a bedroom that happens to still be furnished, it would help if you had the current renter make their bed.

5) Can you put on ban the following words and phrases: “charming,” “cozy,” “room to grow,” “classic studio,” and “peaceful urban refuge?”

If you haven’t heard by now Top Chef contestant Spike has finally opened up his Good Stuff Eatery at 3rd and Penn Ave on Cap. Hill. Last night, I went and checked it out. First impression: Holy Crap! There’s a line!

The line is probably a temporary phenomena. Spike’s self-promotion skills were always as great as his cooking skills (maybe better). The hype for this restaurant was pretty steady leading up to the opening. Even the buns [”buttery soft,” “freshly baked Pennsylvania Dutch”) were hyped and you could find them at Safeway. If you stood in line, you were there for more than just a burger.

Spike’s Dad tried to make things go down easier. As we reached the front of the line, he greeted us and fellow Top Chef nerds with menus and some happy patter. But as he wound up to give his rap explaining the menu, a woman, middle-aged with short dark hair, interrupted him. She told him she didn’t want to hear his menu hype, she didn’t need it. He waved her off muttering something about everyone being too serious, that he had enough of serious in his life. Right on!

But the woman wasn’t having it. She looked at Spike’s Dad all serious and called him an “asshole.”

Exciting!

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Frank Winstead: Folk hero to some, YouTube vigilante to others, and a total mystery to the press. The advisory neighborhood commissioner has made a name for himself by turning the ping-pong action in front of Comet into a grainy snuff film, and by referring to such ping-pong action as a short swat away from murder and rapes.

Thankfully, this city has a low tolerance for ping-pong porn vids. And, well, a high tolerance for wacky ANC reps.

Maybe Winstead will be re-elected. After all, bad press is the same as good press. Winstead doesn’t quite see it that way. Who the hell knows what he thinks? What he doesn’t believe in is taking reporters’ phone calls. He has stiffed the Post when they came calling. And he hasn’t returned my multiple voice-mail messages. As an elected official, he should be able to answer reporters’ questions.

With that in mind, we decided last night to take a trip to Winstead’s apartment on the 4500 block of Connecticut Avenue NW—quite a distance from Comet. Oh, and we brought along a video camera.

We’d like to call our little film: “Frank Winstead Gives Us The Bird.” Enjoy:

Video by Ted Scheinman

Today’s Washington Post article about pro-life pharmacies refusing to dispense birth control pills and condoms, and ambulance drivers refusing to take women for abortions, raises important questions, like: Are women really taking ambulances to their abortions? I’ve never heard of that before.

I called American Medical Response—an ambulance company in Northeast—to ask if they’d ever heard of a woman being taken by ambulance to get an abortion. A dispatcher named Kiesha sounded flabbergasted at the suggestion.

“An ambulance? To get an abortion?” she said. “No, I’ve never heard of that.”

My sample of one having said her piece, I wonder—have you ever heard of anyone taking an ambulance to get an abortion? And if it turns out that no one takes ambulances to get abortions in the first place, does it matter if ambulance drivers are refusing to take women to their abortions?