Random D.C. Surprise | My DNA

I have a vile of my DNA hanging from my lamp at work. How Angelina v. Billy Bob.

I was minding my own business at the Arts on Foot Festival (post forthcoming), admiring paintings created by prisoners in art therapy programs, when a small voice chimed in, "Want to see your DNA?"

"I'm sorry..." I pulled my mind out of a pencil sketch of Tupac and searched for the voice.

"Would you like to take your DNA home with you today?" She repeated with a smile.

"I suppose I planned to do that anyway..." I quipped. She was not amused.

I subsequently agreed to participate in her activity primarily as an apology for my lame joke.

I scraped my tongue with a wooden stick, swished sour liquid around in my mouth, spit in a test tube, used an eye dropper to combine this spit with some sort of alcohol and drops of a mystery acidic fluid, and then shook shook shook the tube.

A little strand of what looked like a stray sweater thread suddenly appeared in the tube. She ceremoniously tied a thread around said tube, put it around my neck and sent me on my way.

Random D.C. Surprise | The Bricks of Georgetown

National Cathedral | Washington, D.C.