"So I was desperate for a bathroom and this meeting just won't fucking end. Like I give a shit about farm subsidies when I've got a turtle head sprouting. I am just glad it was a conference call, so I could mute my microphone when I needed to let one rip. Anyway, so the meeting call ends and I scoot out of the office, doing that funky walk you do when you really have to clench like your pants' life depends on it. I get to the bathroom and it's full. All of these fucking douchebags in blue shirts and khaki pants are standing around the urinals like it's a goddam fencing competition and I can see that all three stalls are occupado. No foot tapping allowed, though. HAHA! So finally two representatives, they were wearing dark blue suits so probably Reps or something, get out of the far two stalls and I bolt for the first one. I clean off the seat and struggle with the little paper ring thingy that is supposed to protect you from the Chilean Buttslug or whatever and sit down. I am slowly relaxing and about to expel some serious waste when someone comes stomping into the bathroom and runs into the empty stall next to mine. He had nice wingtips on and did not bother with the paper donut. He was in such a hurry that he wasn't even bothering to hold his pants off the floor. I could see the tag on the pants, Armani, bro, and they are probably soaking up water and piss off the floor and the dude just lets one rip. I mean, I have had a chile relleno with green chili salsa with horchata and all that awesome stuff go right through me before, but this was the foulest, most unholy, ripping-the-fabric-of-space-time shitting that I have never heard before. It was like that scene in Not Another Teen Movie, except real and right next door. This poor fucker must have eaten the whole cow. I can see his feet shaking with each burst of explosive fecal expulsion. Needless to say, when the smell hit me, I got all dizzy and reeled like I had been hit in the face with a hammer. Fucking nasty. I clenched up mid-shit, it was so bad. It was hideous. I had to concentrate to squeeze out the remainder. By the time I finished, diarrhea dude next was done as well. So I am washing my hands and then I look up at the guy and it's KARL FUCKING ROVE. HAHA!"
That probably could have been a shorter example.
I have had my own Washington Moments like the time Donald Rumsfeld's motorcade forced me off the road or the time some puke got me fired from my night job. These two events are both definitively DC in their provenance but a recent event has topped them, Federally speaking: I invited a woman to have an extravagant dinner with me and a lawyer working for the Senate Ethics Committee has said that it would violate Congressional Ethics Rules if she were to accept the offer.
I was just cockblocked by the Senate Ethics Committee. How can you possibly get more Washington than that? I could take the libertarian perspective and feign indignance at the interruption of my free enterprise, but I am enjoying the hilarity of the government's response to my apparently fearsome wang.
UPDATE 11:02 AM: I hereby declare that "I got cockblocked by the Senate Ethics Committee" is my phrase and I will put it on a shirt and you can buy it from me. In other words, dibs and no stealing.
UPDATE 4:48 PM: The Federal Government may not bow to terrorists but it will grant my demands. The Chief Counsel of the Senate Ethics Committee has granted approval to my date to accept my offer of dinner. ALL FEAR THE MIGHTY WANG. MY WANG HAS BEATEN THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, TRULY IT IS EPIC. Incidentally, I may now have an unfortunately unfounded level of regard for myself. I still plan on selling t-shirts, but they may now feature something about my wang's victory, possibly pictorial in nature.