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.
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