Blue line to Gresham

Last night.
After work I went to a local bar/pub and had a couple beers and then rode my bike to the Max station across the bridge. I had no idea when it was supposed to come to I just sat on the curb, in the cold, and waited. For about 30 minutes. Frost bite. But not really.
After getting my bike on the hook, which is no easy task, I took out my book and dove in. Only, behind me were two girls listening to music. After a couple verses I realized they were listening to none other than Weird Al Yankovic. First "Gangster's Paradise" then "White and Nerdy." I started laughing; I couldn't help it. Like, uncontrollably. I tried getting back to my book but I found myself reading the same lines over and over. Weird Al took my focus. So I gave up and put my book away. But by this time it was only two stops until my stop.
Got off Max and took the elevator up to street level. And yes, the elevator floor was covered in piss. Oh well. I put my helmet on and turned on my lights and headed home.
The ride is really nice because it starts with a big hill. I mean a BIG hill. I think it might have been raining though. Maybe just sprinkling. It's exhilarating. Flying down the hill trying not to hit any pot holes or ride through any big puddles. Small puddles are okay. I made a left followed by another.
Then I got home.
Good night.

Thanks Cloudyb.getty

Rambleambleflamble

What if I woke up one morning or came home one night and in between my heater and kitchen there stood a new door. Closed. But one that wasn't there when I last left that space. Would I open it and make my own story? My own adventure into whatever it was. I'd probably expect a black hallway. Maybe with another door leading into my kitchen but maybe no door and no end in sight. But what if I turned the knob and walked out onto SE Hawthorne between 34th and 35th right in front of Cold Stone Creamery? My very own portal to yummy ice cream? I'M FOR IT. But either way, I know, if I walked in my apartment and saw a door that didn't exist before, I'd say, "Fuck that," and leave the way I came. I don't know, maybe not.
I'm still waiting for my acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

Every time someone tells me to come read something on a computer I think it's going to be one of those things where the bitch from The Exorcist pops up and scares the shit out of me.

Kudos to you if you caught the book and movie references from above.
I'll give you a hint: House of Leaves and The Adjustment Bureau.
Not far fetched considering I'm reading House of Leaves and I just saw The Adjustment Bureau. Pretty awesome book, pretty good movie. Oh, and if you didn't catch the Harry Potter reference, get the fuck off my blog.


All I wanted to say was the Max elevator floors are ALWAYS covered in piss.

I cannot

hold my liquor.

Hot Water

Crystal at Bagby Hot Springs - Oregon - 2010

Call me Bad Luck Bear

I moved to Portland July 21st, give or take a day. Since then I've been chewed up and spit out. Take a look at this shit:

-Asked to leave my apartment for having a dog. (Bright side: not evicted.)
-Three parking tickets.
-Speeding/no Oregon license/expired registration ticket all at the same time.
-Expired registration ticket while parked.
-License suspended; forgot the reason. (I got it reinstated a couple days later.)
-Photo ticket by parked van. (Got out of it because it was sent to my parents and they weren't driving. Not exactly sure how that works, but I got out of it.)
-Accident (my fault, cars still drivable)
-Another big ticket.
-Find out my cars totalled.
-License being suspended again for not reporting the accident even though I was told by the officer present that I didn't have to. (Got this yesterday, I need to call.)

So, I'm moving home.
FUCK PORTLAND

Pass the salt.

I really want to get away. Anywhere. Ever since I had that nightmare I've felt down or on edge. Like something bad is going to happen, and I've never really been the superstitious type. But no thanks, It's not like I've had the best of luck in Portland so far anyway. (I'll elaborate when I feel like it.) I want to not be stressed. I want to not be lonely. I want to feel like I'm wanted and appreciated. Getting away would at least give me a break from everything. But because of work, and a couple other factors, I know it can't happen soon.
You see, I work with my two cousins and another guy at a brewery/tasting room. That's it; there's four of us. I actually think we're getting a cook today so now there's five. But still. The tasting room is pretty much a restaurant and there's two of us on the floor- Wendy takes the bar and I take the tables. Sometimes we get help on Saturdays but that's it. So there's no asking for days off or calling in sick. The point of all this is, when the hell could "getting away" happen? Never, at least probably not until the next Jewish holiday. If I'm lucky, ha.