I Keep Things Interesting...

I have not gone out that much in Portland (surprisingly). I think it is because I am in still “I-Miss-Cali-And-Hate-The-People’s-Republic-of-Portland” mode. I seriously need to get out it. It has been difficult for me to come to term with the act that I live in motherfucking OREGON!!!! (When I think I Oregon, I still have flashbacks to the old school computer game “Oregon Trail.” Yeah, you guys know what I am talking about! Hunting for buffalo, crossing rivers, deciding to be the doctor in case someone got sick versus a lowlier profession that got you more points. My favorite was naming the members of the wagon party after people I knew, I would let the bitchy girls die and try to let my crushes live. Yeah, I was cool…still am, actually!)

Anyway, so on the rare occasion when I do venture out, there is always drama. So the girl friend I was out with got this new Coach bag and wallet that she can’t afford (she is a divorced single mother of two little girls) and comes down to my apartment crying about how she has to return it. (To protect her identity, she shall remain namely. I have no idea if she reads my blog or not, or even knows I have a blog.) Like she was literally in tears! She felt guilty about spending that much money on herself, then decided she deserves the purse. So she cheers up. Then girlfriend decides she needs to accessorize her outfit and must wear some of my jewelry. I told her I only had really expensive jewelry, like Tiffany and such. And she asks what do I feel comfortable letting her borrow, and I say whatever you feel comfortable replacing. So she goes for my pearl earrings!

We are heading out and almost to the bar when one of her daughters calls her up crying about how she wants her mommy. She is still on the phone when we get to the bar and stays outside to figure things out while I go in. I am not even in the bar when I start getting hit on! The bouncer was totally macking on me, but he wasn’t cute. The second he stops hitting on me another guy comes up to me and says, “Hey, I think you are really cute.” I said thanks and started talking to him (because he was cute) and his brother (who was not so cute). Girlfriend finally gets off the fucking phone; she comes back and is crying over the kids and purse. And then she is upset I am getting hit on and she isn’t. Then the brother starts hitting on her, and she gets upset because I got the cute one!! For the rest of the night, she is crying on and off, and got fucking HAMMERED out of her mind. I get her back home safe and sound, but find out the next day she lost my earrings. So not cool.

Now, I am the first to admit it. I have a big mouth and do not hesitate to speak my mind, which sometimes gets me into trouble. My mom says I have too much chutzpah for my own good. The chutzpah often comes out at the gym because I have zero tolerance for assholes who fuck up my workout. After kick boxing one day, I was talking to one of my friends (I was giving her some of the details of the Mexico trip, and we were laughing at my stories.) and this older man comes up to us and tells us to take our conversations somewhere else because we were being too loud! I was having none of that bullshit and told him he should not go out in public places with people if he could not put up with two girls talking to each other. And he goes, “All I hear out of you is yap yap yap! You two are being so loud and should not be talking at the gym.” I said, “I pay my membership fees, just like you do, and have the right to talk to my friend. If you don’t like it, you need to join a different club.”

This went on for a bit, and finally I told him to “leave me alone, and go fuck off.” That really pissed him off and he said he was telling someone who works at 24 Hour Fitness what I did! I said, “Go ahead! What are they going to do? Give me detention for talking? HAHAHA!!!!” So he found a personal trainer and said I was talk to loud…they personal trainer looked at the old man, and then he looked at me and my friend and started laughing!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! My girl friend was like, good for you! She could not believe that man was so mean to us, or that I had the chutzpah to say what I did to him. Then another woman came up to us and said she was in shock over what a jerk that man was being, and thought we weren’t doing anything wrong. So now the joke is that the older man is my new boyfriend! LMAO!!!

Two days later I had another bad gym experience, this time in the parking lot. Now, the 24 Hour Fitness in the Pearl District has limited parking and it is super competitive when trying to fight for a spot. The security guard has a thing for me and normally will let me park in areas that aren’t parking spots. So, I am sitting there waiting my turn for a spot in the parking structure when the car in front of me gets out of “line” to look for street parking. Shortly afterwards, it is my turn and a spot is available. And that asshole who got out of line cut back in and took my fucking spot!! What the hell?!?!? When he is walking out of the structure into the gym, I roll down my window, and yell, “Hey buddy! I saw what you did, asshole, and it was pretty shit!” My new friend looks at me in shock and claims not to know what I was talking about, so I call him out on it. He just stood there and said oh well! No apology, nothing! What a d-bag.

For those of you who don’t know, I moved recently!! After a lot of bitching about the smoking in my building and being a huge pain in the ass, the property management company let me transfer to a different building they own. (I think the straw that broke the camels back was when I bitched out a leasing agent in front of a prospective resident! I told them that not only were they in breach of contract for allowing residents to smoke cigarettes and pot in the building, but they were breaking law. I said that I expected for them to pay the hundreds of dollars it would take to dry clean all my clothes weekly, or let me move before they hear from my lawyer. The next day I got an email inviting me to transfer. I swear, I really am not a huge bitch once you get to know AND stay on my good side!)

I moved from the ghetto-ish Rose Quarter to the posh and pretentious Pearl District, which is waaaaaaay more me! And of course the day I move it poured the entire time and I just learned my uncle died and had to deal with a family crisis from three thousand miles away…fun.

This past weekend I finally finished decorating. I have finished unpacking last weekend because my gay boyfriends laid the smack down and banished me from Nordy’s until everything was put away! That got me unpacking fast, because in the moving process I was able to purge my closet of 15 pairs of shoes, 5 purses, and 4 garbage bags of clothes! I needed to start filling that void ASAP. I have made nice progress with a pair of 5 inch LAMB stilettos and a Badgley Mischka bikini.

But the decorating process has been painful, especially with the curtains. Oy vey, the curtains! So, I am like the world's biggest klutz and extremely accident prone. I have built up such a tolerance to pain that I get bruises all the time and have no idea why. I walk into shit and don't even notice because I don't feel it. (I really have no business wearing stilettos, let alone ones with five inch heels!) My apartment has ten foot ceilings and the window go up pretty high. The only thing I could stand on to reach high enough to get the curtain rods and curtains up are bar stools. (I don't have a ladder. Do I seem like the kind of girl who would have a ladder?? But I do have a tool box!! It's pink and so are all the tools in it. How cute is that?!?!?) I was not paying attention to where I put the stool and one leg was on my gym bag. I was able to stand up on it, but when I shifted my weight I fell! I hit my knee and my shin on the stool and my head on the window frame...ouch! I am so bruised up. I look like I got in a fight and someone kicked the shit out of me. I think I really did a number on my shin, because I am black and blue from my ankle to my knee and it is swollen. It was not so enjoyable when I ran this morning. This is why I do not decorate.

Viva Mexico!!!!

I just spent a fabulous few days near Playa del Carmen, a Bit south of Cancun. Fabulous and interesting. I got my ticket on miles (go me! Let’s hear it for free airfare!) and had to deal with awful flight times and connections. I arrived at the hotel nearly 18 hours after I left Portland. The parentals arrived a few hours before me and clearly hit the bar right away! What else was I to do except catch up?!?!

The next day, we woke up and immediately went straight to the pool. We had only been out there a few minutes, when my mom decides she needs a pina colada. My dad agrees. Being a fan of tequila, I opt for the margarita. Mind you, this is at 10:30am in the sweltering heat and the last drink I had was NYE…I was drunk of my ass within half an hour. Life is great!!!

There is an area of the pool that was only a few inches deep where you could put the lounge chairs. My mom and I decide this is a great idea- you can sit in the water and not get wet! We are only a few sips into drinks when some fat old gross man walks by my mom and asks, “What would you do if I pushed you in?” My mom replies, “I’d kick your ass.” (Gee, I wonder where I get it from??) My dad bursts out laughing and tells the man to go ahead and try, because he would really like to see that. Unfortunately, the man realizes my mom is with my dad and walks away…I really wanted to see my mom in action!

By lunch time, I am ready for something stronger and move on the Long Islands. It is at this point that I realize there is more Euro Trash in Cancun than in Europe! I mean, ewwwwwww! I have never seen so many men in Speedos in my entire life…not even when watching the Olympics on TV. And of course, all these men did not exactly have Daniel Craig’s body. Then it was back to the pool for more sun and alcohol!!

One of my sisters was arriving that evening, so my parents and I made our way to the hotel. It was then that I discovered that iguanas were all over the place! I was fascinated by them and took at least five pictures of every one that I saw. It took us a while to get to the lobby. We are almost there and I get my mom to take a picture of my by a palm tree. Next thing you know, both she and my dad are encouraging me to climb it! This seems like a brilliant idea at the time, but not so easy to implement. I don’t know how many of you have ever tried to climb of these things before, but it is hard! I did not know that the palms have thorns like roses, only sturdier and sharper. The palm tree my mom selected for me is not very big, but since I had had more than a few drinks I practical impale myself on it! Owwwwww…I received a number of small, but deep cuts from the failed attempt and end up bloody and frustrated.

But no matter, the lobby and bar are insight!

We sit and chat while we wait for my sister and have a few more drinks. All my dad wants to do is talk about Xerox, which is boring my mom to death. Then out of nowhere, my mom says, “I am sorry your father and I are being such c-blocks.” Every time I see my mother, she manages to use the word c-block or cock-block. (I wrote about this when she visited me in the People’s Republic of Portland.) My dad stares blankly at her and I say not to worry because there is not one man in the entire hotel I find attractive.

My sister gets there soon and it is a joyful reunion! She starts drinking with us, and I look her. The girl has gotten fucking HUGE! As it turns out, the boyfriend du jour is into weight lifting…so now she is, too. I get to hear all about how she is tracking her protein intake (not easy for a vegetarian) and drinks protein shakes, takes supplements, and has a great lifting schedule. Then I get to hear about her Creatin regime, and the bulky muscles start making sense. Then she tells me I am looking a little scrawny, and need to monitor my protein and fat intake. I tell her she looks like a man with those arms.

A few more drinks into the conversation, I find out she has quit her job at State Farm so she can work on an organic farm!

We stumble back to the hotel room and awaken the next morning at 6am to a text message from my other sister…she has strep throat and thinks the world is coming to an end. For the rest of the trip, my dad kept bitching about how much this was costing him on his Verizon bill, yet ran all around the hotel property trying to get reception!

After a few days of sun, sand, and alcohol…with all too much gross Euro Trash, it was time to head back to the People’s Republic of Portland, which proved to be an adventure in itself. Due to the free ticket, I had the worst itinerary going back. But I had been able to find a flight from Dulles to Seattle that would have made the journey so much easier…then the Travel Curse hit.

I was “randomly selected” for an agricultural screening at immigration. Seriously, what the fuck is agricultural screening?!?! I made it through the painfully slow process of watching my bags being searched for fruits, vegetables, bugs, animals, and such. Then I got to customs. And the fuckers took my bottle of tequila!!!! I bought the tequila at duty free in the Cancun airport- it was in a sealed bag and I had the receipts and everything! When I asked why they were taking it, they said, “It’s policy,” I bet the bastards just drank it themselves.

By the time I was finished with all the bullshit, I missed the flight to Seattle! I had to go through LAX and then to PDX. I didn’t get back until 10am the next morning, but still managed to make it into work by noon looking fabulous!