Testing
This is a test. This is a test to see if I can get some comments going on here, a test of my supposed anonymity, and with it comes a legitimate question. I’ll probably delete this post as soon as I wake up tomorrow, but since I’m on west coast time, it might be too late.
Being single is not so bad. I have been doing some things I would not have done when The Whore and I were still together; for example, posting an ad for a casual encounter on craig’s list. My new friend Emily has been telling me that I should try some internet dating, it can be fun, she says (she is a girl and a licensed massage therapist, so she has me at a distinct advantage. She is also unaware of the existence of this blog). Well I couldn’t bring myself to create a personal ad, and I really don’t think I’m a “dating” kind of guy, so I decided to just go for broke.
I posted an ad that went something like this: I want to play with fake tits. I would only require about 5 or 10 seconds to satisfy my curiosity. I worded it slightly differently, but that was the gist of it. It’s just something I have always wanted to do, and I figured if there’s anywhere to find easy chicks with self-esteem issues (outside of my former relationship), craig’s list casual encounters would be it.
So I posted it, went out and had a beer or something, and came back and checked to see if there were any responses. Much to my dismay, my post wasn’t even on the first page. In fact, it was probably number 150. This was in the span of maybe 2 hours. In Portland–it’s not like it’s New York or something. I couldn’t believe it. How many desperate assholes are out there? I tried it again, and the same thing happened. At that point I pretty much gave up–this required far more effort than I had anticipated. So I am looking for two kinds of responses to this post: 1) easy girls with self-esteem issues and a surplus of silicone, or 2) anyone who has sucessfully had a “casual encounter” or similar experience through a service such as this. Oh, and I guess 3) what’s it like?
90 Minutes, NO REFUNDS
There’s a little ghetto mart down the street from me, and I noticed
today that they have a small porn movie rental section behind the
counter, which clearly states the rentals are for 90 minutes only, and
there are no refunds. So if you only need it for 5 minutes, you
still gotta pay up. Of course, Big Black Asses 5 will never hold
a candle to the classic original, so I’ll have to pass.
—–
Fun with referrer logs
Even though I don’t update this thing as often as I wish I did, I still
get some interesting visitors. Here are the top 3 (my personal 3,
not in terms of frequency) web searcges that led people, somehow, to me:
1. “Does Gene Hackman Own Lowe’s?”
2. “Skull bong”
3. And my personal favorite: “www.zooporn.com”
I am thankful, or perhaps I should be disturbed, that I did not crack the top 10 on the results page for that one.
“I feel like I have to shit”
So we recently learned that we are doing some reorganizing at the old
employer, and I will be moving to a new location far from my current
cubicle. I for one can’t wait. The girl across from me is
rapidly becoming very pregnant, and throughout the day I am treated to
various pronouncements like the subject of this posting, which she
regurgitated today. Bunyons on her feet. Strange
smells. Puking every morning. I appreciate her plight, the
need for propogation of the species et cetera, but we are presumably at
a place of business. She has no qualms about teling every single
person who is courteous enough to say hi to her the explicit details of
nearly every bodily function. It’s too bad because she was
probably attractive about 7 and a half months ago. She will not
be moving with along with me, and I can’t say I will miss her.
For sale…Eagles jersey
After purchasing a Terrell Owens # 81 Eagles Jersey last year for $49.99, it has decided that it was way undervalued last year and if I want to wear it this year, I need to fork over another $150. To some this might seem like a reasonable request considering that I wore it all season and watched my beloved Eagles go to the Super Bowl for the first time in 20+ years. However, I also have a McNabb jersey, a Dawkins jersey and my eight month old son has a McNabb jersey as well. So you can see my predicament. If I give into the TO jersey and pay the extra $150, then the McNabb jersey will tell me that he has been to 5 straight pro bowls and has led the team to four straight NFC Title games and the Super Bowl and that he is arguably the best QB ever to dawn the midnight green. Additionally, the Dawkins jersey will tell me that he has a 10 year career with the Eagles and has anchored one of the top defenses in the league for a decade and that the reason the secondary always been so successful(see B. Taylor, T. Vincent, L. Sheppard, S. Brown, and M. Lewis) has been because of him. If that happens, I am not out the extra $150 for TO, $300 for mine and my son’s McNabb jersey, and $150 for my Dawkins jersey. That is a total of $600 and that completely blows my jersey cap money and will not allow me to get a Kearse or Westbrook jersey. Therefore, I am willing to trade/ sell the T.O. jersey.
The asking price for the Terrell Owens jersey to sell is $100. I know that it is not what it is looking for, however it is well worth it for you. Just think about the excitement you will have wearing the jersey while you rout for or against the Birds this year. If it has similiar numbers to last year, that is less than $10 a TD or 100 yards receiving, well worth the money. You could probably renegotiate a new long term deal with the jersey that will allow you to enjoy it for years to come.
The asking price in order to trade for the jersey is 5 bottles of Advil since I am sick and tired of hearing all of the complaining and whining. I would honestly prefer to trade the jersey than sell it as my head still hurts from hearing what happened yesterday.
Call me old fashioned
I really don’t think women should be talk radio hosts. I have yet
to find one on either side of the dial who doesn’t drive me absolutely
crazy. On Al Franken’s show, his female sidekick is the annoying
one, if that tells you anything. Dr. Laura, well we all know
about her. And every time I hear a promo for Janine Garofolo’s
show I just want to drive off a cliff. I have heard train wrecks
more pleasing to the ear, and better reasoned arguments from
cucumbers.
Tanner Springs
So yesterday I went to the coronation of Tanner Springs Park,
Portland’s newest and the second of 4 planned for the so-called Pearl
District (Pearls, it should be noted, can be harvested through
aquaculture, but that’s another post entirely). Here is a good article in the Tribune, and here is what Randy Gragg has to say about it.
Named after a stream that ran into the marshland on the banks of the
Wilamette River before it was converted into a railyard, before it was
converted into million-dollar condos, Tanner Springs attempts to
juxtapose the diverse history of this part of the city in a highly
engineered, seemingly functional wetland. (real wetlands don’t have
underground cisterns, UV-purification systems, pumps or pipes.) It’s
something only Portland would attempt to do, and I’m going to tell you
what I think about it.
I expected to be disappointed. I have been watching the construction
pretty regularly, and I didn’t think it was going to work. It seemed too
contrived, from the complex mechanical systems to the thousands of
years of sedimentation they mimiced by layering different types of
rocks and soils under the grass. And that fucking “art wall.” That’s
what you get for hiring some internationally renowned architect who has
never even been here until this weekend: someone’s experimental art
project. Let’s take one of the salient features of the Pearl, the
boardwalk, and separate it from the glistening new park with a bunch or
rusty old pieces of railroad. Well I was wrong. It isn’t nearly as high
as I thought, and you can see right over it. Or through it. Upon closer
inspection, I think it works rather well. And the functionality of the
park itself as a self-contained system will likely only increase over
time. I saw a lily pad growing in the pond, and soon there will
probably be frogs, which means that it will sound like a wetland, and
once the grass and trees grow in some more, it won’t look nearly as
engineered as it does now. In 5 years that place will be an absolute
gem, a pearl, if you will.
If. If people realize what that place is and can be and take
appropriate steps to ensure that it happens. I can’t believe I’m saying
this, because I thought one of the best parts about it was going to be
watching the pretentious Pearl District residents (disclaimer: not all
PD residents are pretentious) trying to “educate” their fellow citizens
about why you really should not stand there, or bring your dog, or
throw cigarette butts in the pond. It was going to be hilarious. But
having spent a few hours there yesterday and today, I really see the
need for a Park Police, and I am hereby deputizing myself. Keep your
dog away, and keep your kids on the path. Is that so hard? Jamison
Square is 2 blocks away.
And here is a special shout-out to that old woman in the blue shirt,
walking a white furball: I saw you. I saw you at approximately 2 PM on Saturday while you WATCHED your
dog shit on the pristine, manicured grass in one of the few sitting
areas in the park. You were standing right in front of the xylophone
band. I saw you laugh it up with some dude, and walk away. I also saw
some poor bastard come by and clean up after your fucking mutt about 5
minutes later. I don’t care how old, crotchity, and disgustingly rich
you are: this is not your park. You cannot come here and absolve
yourself of responsibility to abide by the rules and make amends for
the mess your selfish, aloof behavior creates. If I hadn’t been so far
away I would have picked it up and thrown it at you.
Watching TV
Lee Iacoca does commercials for Chrysler now. Great, he even
brought back his signature slogan, “if you can find a better car, buy
it.” But has anyone noticed that he never actually says it?
He either says the first part, then a computer voice finishes it, or a
little girl, or George Costanza, say it. Why is that? Is
that some kind of copyright thing? Can you own a phrase? I
thought Fox v. Franken proved you couldn’t. And since all parties
are involved, what the hell is going on there?
And poor, poor Joe Piscopo. He’s an extra on Law and Order.
—–
Longest Post Ever
Ok, I am back from my whirlwind trip through the Midwest, which took me
to such exotic locales as Minocqua, WI; Boaz, WV; and Chicago’s Midway
Airport. You ever pass someone you vaguely know while running down the
moving walkway during a 30 minute layover? That happened to me on
Sunday. Didn’t have time to say, hey I know you, try and picture me
with hair on my head and not on my face. Small world, I guess.
Before I get started let me give a brief what-what to everyone I saw
over the past 2 weeks. Then there will be no more sappy ex-girlfriend
shit, I promise. I can actually say that for the first time in almost 3
months, I am not depressed. I really feel like I found the “reset”
button, and pushed it a few times. It’s weird because I felt
terrible when I left for the airport to come back here, but when I got
off the plane I felt better than I have in a long time. I fucking love
this place. Watch for my “I love Portland” series, to be debuting soon.
Then if people don’t start coming to visit me we will have some serious
problems.
I started off with a weekend in Chicago, with good old larry and his
still-closeted roommate (dude, you have to get him to start reading
this thing, or I will make too much of a habit of ripping him). The
first notable notable is that I accomplished my goal of not doing any
drugs on my entire trip, which I think played no small role in my
recent mental recovery (NB: marijuana, alcohol, nicotine, zanax, and
vicadin are not drugs. I’m talking about the hard stuff). We went to
Lollapalooza, which was the impetus for the entire trip to begin with.
Below is my review of the bands I gave a shit about, roughly in order
of appearance.
Cake: Man, I was disappointed in Cake. They were really unenthusiastic.
Which may have had something to do with the fact that some other shitty
band was playing 100 yards away and the sound bled over, but the more
you stop to acknowledge it, the worse it gets. Just play and turn up
the volume a little.
Brian Jonestown Massacre: If you see Brian on the street sometime, punch him in the face for me. He probably deserves it.
Primus: Half the reason I went to the show. They fucking rocked, which
is a given anytime Les steps on stage. It was very much a throwback,
with I believe only 2 songs from Pork Soda and nothing from anything
after that. No complaints here, although I would have liked to have
heard Winona’s Big Brown Beaver.
Billy Idol: Surprisingly entertaining.
Weezer, Pixies, Digable Planets: I missed them, in lieu of a nap. It was worth it.
Dinosaur Jr.: The other half of the reason I went to the show. Needless
to say I have been listening to a lot of Dinosaur lately, and this show
made up for the fact that the only other time I ever saw them, in 1996,
I had to leave early to catch a train back out to Ardmore (Philly). It
was the original lineup, and they only played songs they had recorded
together. That means there was no Green Mind or Without a Sound, and if
you don’t have Bug or You’re Living All Over Me (their best album), you were probably disappointed.
And J Mascis rocked, so I no longer believe the rumor that he has MS.
He looks like he’s 75, while Lou Barlow probably still gets carded for
beer, but he’s definitely not dying.
Drive by Truckers: 3 guitars is always too much, except for these guys. Check them out of you can.
G Love and Special Sauce: My namesake, you sounded pretty good from the
tree I was sitting under on the other side of the grounds, chugging 5
dollar Bud Lights.
Widespread Panic: The other half of the reason I went to the show (it
was a big show). Can’t say I care for the new guitarist. He’s good,
sure, but try to imagine, I don’t know, CSNY without Steven Stills. It
just didn’t sound right. They still got down though, and JB, my other
namesake, sounds more like 2005-Bob Dylan every time I hear him.
So then I went to Wisconsin for some more heavy drinking, chain
smoking, and fishing. I’ll be brief, as there’s not much newsworthy
that happened: I caught a small bluefish, whose guts I promptly ripped
out trying to release him from my line. He bled all over me and I’m
pretty sure didn’t survive the fall back into the water. Some friendly
advice: after about 8 beers and 3 bowls or so, it’s time to stop using
real hooks. Oh, and I HATE “indie rock.” I knew that already, but all
doubts have been permanently eradicated. Thanks Dave, I owe you one. If
the Get Up Kids got up on a tall building, and then got down at 9.81
m/s, I wouldn’t shed a tear.
Then it was back to the Burg, for an exciting weekend of Clown Golf,
sitting around the pool, swimming, reading, stealing cigarettes from my
mom, and sneaking beers with my dad. Oh, and I had sushi and went
to a
gay nightclub. I don’t know which woodwork some of these people crawl
out of. Everyone I know has to come over during Christmas, to see
remodeled basement at my parents place, it’s pimp. And we can all
thank the Bush Tax Cuts
(“home office” indeed) for that one. Yes, home is fun, but sometimes
it’s best not to leave the house. New auto parts stores no longer
excite me, and someday they will finish the new highway. Then I don’t
see any reason to go into town at all. The Pizza Place delivers, right?
Jalalablog 