Camping in Cana-er-Washington

Last labor day weekend the plan was to go camping and rock climbing in Canada. What actually happened was a comedy of errors.

It actually all started out looking like everything was going our way. We were first daunted with the task of trying to fit five people, all of the camping gear AND climbing gear all into a Honda Civic. But we succeeded! Of course we all (except for Derrick, the driver) had something stowed behind our feet, in between our legs, and on our lap, and were basically squished in like sardines. But it was only going to be a three hour drive, right?

Well lets get straight to where things went wrong. To start, we were not allowed into Canada.

We were (supposedly) randomly picked to be one of those unlucky cars made to pull over for further inspection. Strike one. Standing in line, the next available agent was Mr. Asshole-the-size-of-Texas. Strike two. I have a lack of respect for assholes, this guy lives and breaths for his power-trips, and there is a bullshit rule on the books written only in an attempt to gain more money. Strike three.

Strike three will be detailed in another blog, but regardless, we did not make it into Canada. Oddly enough, upon explaining to the US border control agent on our way back why we had only been in Canada for an hour, he just shrugged, but then excitedly gave us directions to a place where we could find rock climbing on this side of the border. We decided to give it a go, and thus continue our comedy of errors, the rest of which I think I will tell in pictures. But first...

We ate some lunch before heading back towards Seattle and three prospective campgrounds.
Unfortunately we got to the first campsite five minutes too late and we could not find the second one, so we settled on the third. After setting up the tent we headed out to find a grocery store. But...
We got a little lost. Partially due to bad directions and partially due to some pretty bad ass fog.

At one point while rolling through one of the 100 people or less towns along the freeway, we happened upon some locals. Note to self, never, never, ever again, talk to the locals. The mother and child duo we happened upon had the same monotone voice and hollow stares as the children of the corn, and despite all of our attempts to find out where they themselves got groceries, they kept eerily beckoning us to go to the restaurant. We decided that we did not want to find out what they did with out-of-towners at the "restaurant."

We eventually found a grocery store and now after not three, but nine hours in the car...
We did what anyone would have done.
We started drinking.
Really drinking. :)

Oh. But first we had to start a fire. Uh, but we forgot to bring any kindling or paper to start the fire. No problem. We have the paperwork and forms given to us by the 40 year old virgin, Canadian border patrol agent from hell. :)
The next morning we thought we had started anew and could handle anything fate threw at us. This feeling prevailed through our realizing that we had forgotten to buy cups at the grocery store for our coffee.
So we used used last night's beer bottles (rinsed out of course).

Sufficiently caffeinated we headed out to do some rock climbing.
Except there was one small problem. (Are you starting to see a trend here?)
The rocks were too wet from rain to climb. Doh!

We explored the area looking for any dry spot to climb but only found moss, mushrooms, a frog, and...
A door?

I shit you not. We found a huge door set in the middle of the cliff face, and yes, with a picnic bench parked outside. There was a humming sound coming from the other side of the door but all electric cables leading out of the rock were severed and not live. The entire thing was covered in layers of rust and tagging, yet, the door had a brand-new padlock on it. Cue eerie music.

(We later found found out that this had been a testing site for a giant drill that may have been used to dig the chunnel. Did they use it? How far in did they get? And what is the noise coming from inside? Nope, the above explanation is all the man could tell anyone.)

Well after coming to the realization that the main reason for our camping trip was now a no-go, we headed back to the campsite. But not before stopping to pick up some vodka. Oh, and a tarp, because it had started to rain.
Yep. That is a picture of Matt, Melissa and Hillary trying to light a campfire under and umbrella.

What you can not see is the rest of us trying to put up tarps over the BBQ and table, in the middle of the rain, at a campsite with trees only on one side. The resulting lean-to style seemed to work just fine though.
That all being done, we decided to start drinking again.
We did luck out in the fact that our immediate neighbors on either side did not show up the first night because of the rain (silly them), and the next night did not really care about us being loud and obnoxious.

I lucked out in the fact that Hillary is a very understanding person and did not mind when I accidentally tried to climb into bed with her husband, Chris. Word to the wise, before it is dark and you are drunk, pop your head into the tent and take notice of where your sleeping bag is located. With six other people in the tent, you have poor odds at picking the right one.

The next day we decided to go on a hike to see some waterfalls, and everything was going great.
Until Derrick mentioned something about it not raining anymore.
It was a beautiful hike though and we saw some beautiful waterfalls and a mouse half the size of your thumb.

We decided to cut our camping trip short a day and head back to Seattle to have a night on the town, a nice dinner, and do some sight-seeing the next day.

Dinner and a night on the town went great. Sight-seeing? Well besides the unseasonably cold weather and most tourist spots being closed on Labor Day (go figure) we had a blast walking around, uh, looking at things... that were closed...
We spent the rest of our time doing what any Seattler would do. Drinking coffee and sitting out in the misty weather.
The end. :)

A day in the Life of Being Cute

Okay, lets get two things out of the way...

One, people who are considered good-looking by society have their gripes, which can be countered by those who are not considered good-looking, and vise-versa. It is this with many different cases. One does not trump or cancel the other. In fact, one of the things I hate most is when someone says, "Well you think you have it bad, well..." or something along those lines. If your response to someone after they have complained about something is to tell them how they have it better, then (to give a list within a list) you one, did not actual listen to them, and two, just marginalized their feelings. Both of which, no one would ever want done to them.

But getting onto my first list...

Second, I realize that I bitch a lot on this blog, actually I mainly only complain. But it is my blog. It is my sound board. The good things in my life I prefer to share with people personally. Dear God, if you know me, you know how much I love to talk.

So anyways...

The bitch about being cute or good-looking is that if you want to be seen as anything different than that, you REALLY need to be different. If you want to be taken as smart, you have to come off as fucking genius. If you want to be taken seriously with sports, you need to know every name, stat and year. If you want to be known as having a spine, well you better start a fight with anything that fucking breathes. You get my point?

The thing is, this is not who you are. I am not that smart. I do not keep up to date with sports every day. I do not have the spine and attitude that so many think I have.

But say I fail in being able to understand and learn something. Say I mix up a player and their team or forget a stat. Say I just feel sad one day and do not feel like showing any spunk. Well to those who don't know me, then they just see me as that cute girl. And those who do know me, they are confused by my behavior. Because all they know is the person who is trying her damnedest to not be seen as that cute girl.

NFL's new Fan Code of Conduct

I am so screwed!

The following will get you kicked out of the stadium and basically banned from coming back!!!

» Behavior that is unruly, disruptive, or illegal in nature.

» Intoxication or other signs of alcohol impairment that results in irresponsible behavior.

» Foul or abusive language or obscene gestures.

» Interference with the progress of the game (including throwing objects onto the field).

» Failing to follow instructions of stadium personnel.

» Verbal or physical harassment of opposing team fans.

"Any fan in violation of these provisions will be subject to ejection without refund and loss of ticket privileges for future games."

First off, unruly and disruptive. That is so vague! Who defines if it is unruly or disruptive? Heaven forbid that some tea-toting soccer Mom goes to a game; whole sections would be considered unruly and disruptive. Hell, some stadium's security can't even get all their employees on the same page on who can, and who can not, kiss who at a game. This is just asking for trouble right off the bat.

The second one I don't have any problem with; it is basically already the norm. If you get drunk and try to jump off of the edge to the lower seats, you will get yourself ejected. Oh, well, or sent to the hospital if you actually make it over the ledge.

Onto the next rule... Wait, what! No foul language or flipping the bird! What the *bleep* are those *bleeping* *bleeps* smoking? (Yeah, doesn't have the same feeling to it, does it?) So if my team throws an interception, what am I going to say? Darn it? When asked about the Cowboys am I suppose to say, "I really dislike that team." Or when asked about Brett Favre I should say, "I really don't care for him as a person." Fuck no! I hate them with a passion, why the fuck would I dilute that you dumb-ass nfl morons. (See, how that last sentence got my point across so much better.)

The fourth and fifth rules are also already the norm and pretty much make sense. I only say pretty much, because to the people who have been thrown out games before for breaking these rules, they did not make sense to them. Well at least they didn't at the time. Either that or they were only trying to save face by yelling and screaming that the rules are stupid and unfair while they were being carried out. I have a positive outlook on humanity so I like to think this is the case, either that or the next morning when one of their friends tells them what they did and shows them the videos posted on Youtube, they realize that no, the rules aren't stupid, they are.

And finally, why I am screwed!

"Verbal or physical harassment of opposing team fans."

Ah shit.

This next season I am going to the Patriots/Niners game at Candlestick so I think I am safe - for now. I am going to bet that I get banned from Qwest field first. At first I thought it was a fair chance at it being either Candlestick or Qwest, but I just can not bring myself to believe that Candlestick staff would chuck little old me out. In past games a Niner fan practically had to beg to be thrown out, and those were not even the Raiders or Cowboys games.

But come on, seriously, no harassing the other teams fans, no cussing or flipping the bird, and don't be unruly or disruptive. I think those nfl guys have been watching the game from their comfy enclosed box seats for way too long. Way to take the fun out of football, losers! So if you are ever watching a game and there is a touchdown and everyone stays in their seats and either politely claps or exclaims, "Oh golly shucks." At that moment I will be in the bathroom puking after having given myself a concussion from slamming my head repeatedly against the nearest wall.

Better late than never I guess.

I know this a rather late post on the outcome of the primaries but it is something that has been stewing and stewing in me, and I think I need to get out because it is something I should be over, but am not.

I voted for Hillary in the Washington state primaries. I actually had an opportunity to vote a second time for Hillary in the Oregon state primaries but decided against it out of fairness, but that is a different interesting topic. Either way, Obama won the most votes in the Democrat’s primaries and is now the pre-emptive Democrat candidate. And I am bitter.

Not only was I upset when it became evident that Obama had won, not only did I become bitter days afterwards, but more than a month later I am actually more upset and bitter with each week. In the beginning I blamed the media. Soon afterwards I blamed not only the media but also this countries hidden sexism. That soon expanded to Obama’s supporters. Through all of this though, I staunchly proclaimed that, “I am first a Democrat and second a Hillary supporter. I will vote for the Democrat’s candidate.” But lately I have found myself starting to extend my anger even to Obama, to think of him as the lesser of two evils, and even have the thought (even for a moment) enter my head of abstaining from voting.

A few notes: First, this is an emotional post, so the use of the word ‘blame’ does not always mean quilt, although if you read further there are some that I truly do blame with the accusation of quilt. Second, I do not clump all of Obama supporters into one group, but I do worry about his ability to control the extremist mob that has formed around him. And third, I am in no way leaning towards McCain.

After those disclaimers, onto my bitterness and their roots and manifestations…

It first began during the primary running. I did equally notice the racist rhetoric and deviousness of the media and some republican groups, but being female and not African-American, I of course felt and particularly noticed the times of underhanded sexism during the primaries more. There were lengthy debates on Hillary when she teared up when a woman asked her how she handled it all and kept on going. Debates on if she could handle the job of presidency because she shed a tear? Meanwhile many throw comments about how impersonal and out of touch politicians are? Oh, and please do not get me started on the debate of whether she was faking her tears! Obama gave a wonderful speech on racism and the need to overcome it, yet even all those so backwards to have been commenting how he was not black enough or how he was too white did not question his speech and how real it was. Sorry, I did get going on that topic, didn’t I?

There were many, many times where I was struck by with minimally blanketed sexism of the media coverage. Each time was a cold bucket of water to the face followed by a slap. Each was a steady squish to my (innocent and naïve maybe) ideology of this countries culture, like that of the twist of the ankle when squashing a bug on the ground. The moment I no longer became aghast or shocked but down right angry was when Olbermann (a journalist I admired) did not give a ‘special comment’ on the incident with Obama’s preacher and his angry rhetoric. For you see, just a month ago a woman from Hillary’s camp had made hateful and angry comments. Hillary did not denounce these comments, but stated that those comments were those of the person who had spoken them and not her own and every person has the right to their opinion even if she herself does not share them. That earned Hillary a grilling special comment from Olbermann. A few days after this statement from Hillary, she accepted the resignation of this women. Yet, just a month later, Obama’s pastor (a man) was found to also have made hateful and angry comments. Obama also did not immediately denounce this person; in fact he did not do so for a month. And yet, no special comment from Olbermann, only in depth discussion on the impact that this would have on his candidacy.

So it is safe to say that when it was evident that Obama had won the primary I was a little disgruntled. Hillary’s speeches of what had been accomplished for women made me think instead of what had actually been uncovered. My life I have advocated for those who are not seen equally because I thought I lived the life I wanted because of others who fought for my equality. My life I have never thought myself a suppressed or discriminated against person. Yes, there are a few barriers left to be broken, but the war had been won, there were just a few battles left to seal the deal. Not after this. My world had been turned upside down. And it continued.

When I watched the new candidate that I was now backing being introduced by a former Hillary supporter and the people in the audience booed when hearing Hillary’s name, I was stunned. Shocked. Silenced. But when Obama himself got up on the stage and they booed when he mentioned Hillary, that quickly changed. I was angry. Furious. Felt stabbed in the back. Turned upon.

My thoughts: Nice way to support your candidate guys, boo the other Democrats. That will really get him elected. I see now that it is not about the issues. It is not about the party. It is about your candidate.

Yes. That is where me thoughts took me. It was not our candidate, but their candidate. I know that the preceding feelings and emotions described in my previous paragraphs played a large part in the train of my thoughts but I would not like to offer that as an excuse to them. When they booed, they were not booing Hillary; they were booing her followers too. If they did not realize that then that is even more their fault. Those who booed (in not just that, but a few rallies) were no longer rooting for the party, the issues, and the causes; they were booing a person and rooting for another person. Together we were Democrats but in those moments they put it to a level of you guys and us. Maybe that is a fallacy of the Democrat party that has even been joked upon, but I don’t think it has ever been taken to this level.

There was a lot of discussion and debate regarding what Obama was going to do to win over the Hillary supporters, and I think he really has tried extensively. But his tactic has been of praising what Hillary did and how much she accomplished; it did not address or even speak of the hurt that many of her followers feel or why. The root causes of the anger and bitterness have not been addressed, hell even spoken of. A wound that is left untended festers, and that is exactly what has happened to me.

The sexism I viewed during the primaries made it difficult to separate Hillary’s campaign for the presidency based on her political views from a separate campaign against underlying sexism in this country. Her campaign became so much more than just a want for a Democrat in the Oval Office. It became so much more than a hope for a woman candidate. It became a battle for all of that, but also against the ignored and accepted sexism in this country. Her campaign becoming that maked it equally as hard to not see Obama not as the winner of a primary election, but as the victor against the battle I just described. Then to not have the wounds and the hurt that I experience addressed only let the animosity to remain, just under the skin, so that every move and word was analyzed to try and find any fault and any further insult. Unfortunately Obama’s supporters provided those moments without much analysis needed.

I think it is safe to assume that most would think that my perceptions and logic have been degrading at an exponential rate through this, but again I state that this is an emotional piece. While I usually put more stock in facts (and of course, numbers) my point at the end of this is that this is no longer just a logical issue. Beyond just the emotion of just fear based advertising or mud slinging, this campaign has conceived more deep seeded emotion than (sadly) most ever have, and that needs to be addressed.

I am angry. I am not bitter, but angry. I feel betrayed by the public of my country and then I feel betrayed by my party. I have over and over again told myself that all of this is separate from Obama, but each time it is harder and harder. Illogical? Yes, but it is there, and I think that had Hillary won, many African-Americans might be having a similar debate with themselves like I am.

Roses

On a much cheerier note. A few weeks ago I went to the Portland Rose Garden. It is one of the largest in the US and yadda yadda yadda.

Anyways, here are pictures.

http://picasaweb.google.com/skik42/RoseGarden

Retreat!

I am being terrorized by my neighbor's kids! Please, allow me to vent for a moment.

My neighbor has 7 year old twins and until lately they have been great. Fourth of July weekend we had a great time learning how to make firecrackers really explode, how to scorch our names into the cement with sparklers, and how to light (and extinguish) mini bonfires. They are super inquisitive and we have had fun learning what condensation is, how to do black flips into pools, what gives firecrackers their color, and that the ice cream man truly is deaf.

Well while I was up in Seattle for my birthday weekend, Tyrell opened a letter that was in my mail box. It was a birthday card from my Grandma with $100 in it. The moment I walked up to my door returning from Seattle, Tyrell and his Dad came out and asked if they could talk to me. Tyrell confessed to opening the card and taking the $100. This is not my gripe.

The problem is his Dad then grounded the two of them as punishment. What he did not realize is in doing so he also punished every one of us at the apartment building. For the past four days we have all been dealing with two 7 year olds who are stuck at home during the summer, and are bored.

I have been waken up from a nap to them knocking on my bedroom window. Another neighbor spent half a day searching for his dog that refused to come home because they had chased it off. Another neighbor has taken to parking his car on the street because they have run into it too many times with their scooter.

If I am home they are knocking on my door every half hour wondering what I am doing, who am I talking to, what and I watching, why, why, why. Ahhhhhh!

I am reduced to sneaking around my apartment with the shades drawn and the lights out pretending not to be home. If they discover I am home I have to flee to a pub or coffee shop. For you see it does not matter what I am doing, they are bored seven year olds. I can be on the phone and they will ask who I am talking to, what I am talking about, ask me questons about what I just said, ask where the person lives. Did I mention that all of this is while I am still on the phone?

Today I wanted to get some cleaning done, pay some bills and then settle down with a movie. Instead my day went like this:

Half hour of cleaning.
Knock on the door.
15 minutes explaining over and over again that, no I can not come out, explain what I am doing, and of course why, why, why.
After 15 minutes nudge them out the door.
Repeat.

At about 2pm, after this having gone on all morning and afternoon I decided to try different tactics to make them go away. first I ignored their knocking. They just walked in. Next I made sure the door was locked. After a minute of ignoring their knocking they then began beating on my door. Next with my door locked and iPod on, they proceeded to run to each of my windows yelling into them for me to come out.

I almost lost it at that point. When I opened the door and they started to walk in, I literally put my hands on their sholders and pushed them back out, closed the door to just a crack, told them I was busy and then shut the door on their question of what I was doing.

Rude? Yes. To the point? I thought so. Got my point across? Obviously not because they were back with in 15 minutes. Hevean help me!

So I am at a bar. Once again run out of my own place. I am seriously thinking about signing myself up at the nearest clinic to have my tubes tied, for I have seen the future, and it is hell. People actually willingly have these things?!?!

The Important Stuff

Did that last post seem to end on a depressing note? It really was not intended, but honestly how riveting of a post can you write about business and accounting classes? Of course I did have a teacher who really pissed me off by making errors in accounting and not admitting to them when I pointed them out...

But you know what really really pisses me off? Watching my team (The Giants) pay a player 14 million dollars a year (yes, I said a year) to throw curve balls that would not fake out a toddler and fast balls with the accuracy of a blind person. Pay a player 14 million big ones to pitch only 2 to 4 innings per game (basically only a little more than a reliever) and consequentially over exert our bullpen (the guys making a quarter or less money). Pay a player 14 million dollars for 6 years to give up as many runs in 2 innings as most do in 6, embarrass my team and the fans every five days, and practically guarantee a loss every time.

Yep. That really burns me.

Luckily for Zito I have had Lincecum, Cain and Sanchez to watch three out of the five other days. It is hard to stay angry for too long with these guys to look forward to watching, but that has changed now. In this last outing by Zito, he burned me personally.

I listen to a daily podcast on basball (ESPN Baseball Today). I like the two guys who put it on. They know their stuff, they are sarcastic, they can be rude but it usually just truthful. I like their analysis, most of the time agree with their opinions, and enjoy their interviews.

Everyday they answer a few e-mails that they have received, and there have been many times that I have thought of questions that I would like to send in but I usually listed to them on the bus on the way to school so by the time I get home I forget to write in. Well the other day I was looking over the day's game, saw that Zito was pitching, got angry, and decided to e-mail them. Please see below.

Hi guys,
I love your show, it is the highlight of my commute.

I am a life long SF Giants fan and have to say (regardless of this losing season) this team is shaping up to be one of my favorites. Except for Zito. What options are there for the Giants with his contract? Are we stuck watching this guy for another 4 1/2 years? Obviously with the amount of money he is making, he is not going to be sent down to minor league, but wouldn't a move to the bullpen do him and the whole team some good?
Sarah

Well they read my e-mail the next day. Cool, huh?

Wrong!

Zito pitched his best game in years that same night I e-mailed. For the first time since becoming a Giant he showed the stuff that got him the 126 million dollar, six year contract.

So instead of hearing about some obscure contractual loophole that the Giants could use to get rid of this guy (a delusional wish of mine) or at best an affirmation of how much he sucks ass, I got a discussion of how he has been working on his mechanics and that this game might be a sign that all that work is paying off. Ugh. Major disappointment.

So you see, even when Zito pitches well he gives me disappointment and embarrasment. I am now suspicious that he has it out for me. If that is not the case then he better prove it by continuing to pitch well.

So Zito pitches tonight against the Cubs. If he fucks up tonight, then tomorrow I buy tickets to San Francisco, he and I will need to have a "chat."

1 Quarter Down

So I finished up my first quarter of school a couple of weeks ago. I meant to write some sort of recap but immediately after my last final I jumped on a plane for a whirlwind 9 days that landed me in 8 different airports and visiting a portion of all 5 sides of my family, ending with a reprieve in LA at Derrick's house and drinks with Brandon and Melissa.

I have already started summer session and feel like some sort of blurb about the last three months is fast becoming past due, but honestly I don't have anything to write.

I went to class. I read textbooks. I took notes. I took tests. All of these are either sold back to the bookstore or in the recycling bin. I had a hellish experience with a group project, but that has been forgotten over one beer and a little bit of venting. That group brought my grade down to an A- for the class, giving me a 3.91 instead of a 4.0, but honestly, does anyone care about the difference between a 3.9 and 4.0? The difference between a 2.5 and a 4.0 for that matter? (2.5 being the minimum GPA for my major.)

So that is it. That is my update for the quarter. I passed.

So true.

I thought this was funny... and true.


more graph humor and song chart memes

EDIT: Um, I don't know how to get the whole picture to show up. So click on it to see the whole thing.

Sketch

Sketch went missing January 27th, 2004.

I realized tonight that ever since I moved away from where I lost him, I have always put a bowl of food outside.

This many years later, I still cry when I think of him...


I know this is not a very descriptive blog, but those who knew Sketch or those who have had a pet that close to you, know what I am saying.

Random Skickisms #3

I was at Tom's, the sports bar a few blocks from my house, to study and watch the Giant's game. My game wasn't going to be on for an hour or so, so the manager asked me what games I wanted on in the mean time. He was flipping through and I saw Detroit. I asked him to put that game on, and when he raised an eyebrow at me I exclaimed, "Hey. I have not watched them yet, and I want to see how bad a 1-7 team looks."

Note: This took place back when Detroit had only won one game after losing their first seven.

The guy sitting at the table directly across from the direction I was sitting looked over at me. I smiled, and said, "You just gotta just feel sorry for them, don't you?"

He gave me the weirdest look and then asked, "Are you a Detroit fan?"

I said, "Oh no. I am a Giants fan, which is why I love Detroit this year. They make my team actually look good."

He gave me the same weird look and then turned back to the TVs.

Well a while later a few of his friends arrived and they asked for a hockey game to be put on. I had my nose in a book so I did not look up when they arrived, but it was only after a few minutes that I overheard them talking about the baseball game...

And that is when I realized that they were all Detroit fans.

I could have kissed the manager when he came over and asked if it was alright if I moved because the only available TV for him to put my game on was on the other end of the bar.

Random Skickisms #2

I was at the bus stop when this guy sat down next to me and immediately asked me who I was voting for in the school elections. I told him I did not know and probably would not be voting since I had just started at this school and had no idea who the candidates are or what the issues were. Turns out, he was not someone campaigning for anyone, he was just a guy who likes to hear himself talk. He only asked me so that he could then dive into a lengthy monologue of who he was voting for and why. I turned forward and tuned him out until he all of a sudden asked, "Well your Christian, right?"

I won't get into how many ways that question was so wrong, but anyways I said, "Uh, yeah. I'm Catholic."

"Oh! I use to be Catholic too, but then I found Jesus Christ and was saved and became a Christian."

I couldn't help myself. "I think you missed the point."

"Oh, no. I use to listen to hip hop on MTV, but now all I listen to is Christian rock."

"Yeah. You missed the point."

He stopped talking to me. :)

Random Skickisms #1

Throw me into a new city, new school, new places and around new people and I am bound to have more "skick moments" than normal...

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have econ class, a break, and then statistics. During my break I head to the computer lab to work on and print out class work. So Tuesdays and Thursdays are usually the day I have multiple cups of coffee and a constant tired and brain-fried look on my face. Just the other day after leaving the computer lab, and while chanting over and over in my head a statistics formula, I headed over to the area outside where I usually eat my lunch. Today though, some group had decided to put up huge posters of aborted fetuses and anti-abortion propaganda. I had my head down so I did not notice these until I almost ran into a person standing in front of them handing out fliers. I snapped my head up, looked around, and in a total dazed and confused voice said, "But that is where I eat my lunch."

I think I actually grossed out the person handing out fliers with pictures of mushy dead fetuses on them.

Portland: Update

So when I last left off I was coping with loneliness superficially with a shopping spree at IKEA...

Well, I have a good looking apartment if I do say so myself. :)


I have not explored too much of Portland. Mostly because the weather has been unusually bad this spring and Portland is a very outdoors type of city (can't quite figure out how that came about in a northwest town). I also have a tendency to start chatting with people and then staying in one place for hours so I end up only exploring a small chunk at a time.

Portland is definitely more of a town than a city and I get the feeling the people here want it that way. So much so that anything seeming metropolitan or urban is shunned. The vibe of this town will take some getting use to. The people here are a lot more personable than in Seattle, and that I definitely like; that really was my main gripe about Seattle.

I live two doors down from a great dive bar where I know most of the regulars already, but also meet someone new every time I go. Really chill place where everyone goes to sit around and talk with everyone, and I mean everyone, and play some pool.

Just a few blocks away is a sports bar with amazing pizza, a great happy hour, and every sports package. This is the first season in years where I have been able to catch most of my Giant's games. Murphy's Law that it also one of their worst years, but actually now that I think of it, maybe that is a blessing in disguise because I am just so overjoyed to be able to watch my team that the pain of their suckyness is dulled. We'll see later on in the season...

As for the area as a whole, I am told by people that I either "live in the ghetto," or that I live in the only diverse area of Portland. The truth is Portland is super white, to the point that "diverse area" means that only 50% of the people are white, and Portland is soft. Here in "the ghetto" people leave their BBQs outside and they are not stolen, people at bars insist on walking you home because "it is dark outside," there is not a single place with bars on the windows, and a man across the street who belches is considered "a thug up to no good." I shit you not.

All in all it has been an experience. I am not falling in love with Portland, but I can live here for a few years.

Portland: Day 2

There is nothing a good shopping spree at IKEA can not solve. A new sofa bed, table, a few chairs and drapes, and viola.

I am sure I will be struck hard with doubt and loneliness again, but hey, I am due for a haircut anyways. :)

Now if all these boxes would just unpack themselves...

Portland: Day 1

Have you ever been so petrified with fear that you have stood staring out at nothing, in one hand holding a beer that is now warm and in the other holding a cigarette like Sigourney Weaver in Aliens?

I just did.

There are a few differences between Sigourney Weaver and I - well besides the fact that I am not hiding from some alien super species with a bad ass level of infinite (yeah fuck you Preditor) - I chose to be here knowing that it was going to be hell.

I just keep thinking over and over, "What have you done? WHAT have you done?" Even now, while typing this, I get wide eyed and nauseous just punching the letters to spell 'alone'. I keep looking around my new apartment. It seems huge - almost like I can barely see the other side - even though it is only 550 square feet. It looks empty - almost desolate - although there is furniture and boxes filling up almost every inch of floor space. I swear the air is stifling and so thick in here you can see it.

What have I done?

It is going to be a long baseball season.

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. -- Don't tell Bruce Bochy that the Giants' 23-5 exhibition loss Saturday to the Oakland A's was meaningless. It was too embarrassing not to have some significance.

Uh, Duh.

San Francisco (1-3) allowed 29 hits, beginning with seven by Barry Zito in the first inning as Oakland scored eight runs. The A's proceeded to score multiple runs in six separate innings, including each of the first four.

"It's been a long time since I've seen one played quite this bad -- pitching and our defense," Bochy said. "That's as ugly as it gets right there. It's hard to do, really, what we did."

HARD! It is HARD to lose that bad??? Are you fucking kidding me?

No. It is HARD to watch your team play worse than you kid brother's little league team. It is HARD to listen to your same soulless and monotone "pep" talks every game. It is HARD to listen to your rival's snickers and jabs and have nothing to counter with but sticking out your tongue. The only thing that was hard for you and the team this game was the benches you parked your asses on while watching it.

Bochy hopes that sheer repetition will help cure the Giants' ills.

Oh absolutely fucking great. That was his theory last year and we all know how that went. :-/

"That's why you have Spring Training," he said. "I know we're going to have days like this, especially with younger players."

I thought he just said that he has not seen a game like this in a long time, but now he says that he knows we are going to have days like this... again. Absolutely fucking great.

Additionally, the pitchers who yielded Oakland's 15 runs after Zito departed -- Osiris Matos, Kevin Gryboski, Victor Santos, Brian Anderson and Billy Sadler -- are unlikely to make the season-opening staff.

You better fucking believe it they are not going to make it to the roster. Dear lord, demote them to the crew who will have to clean up all the trash thrown onto the field by all the disgruntled Giants fans at the end of each game. Better yet, make them do it with their teeth. We would not want them to over work their fragile "throwing" arms.

Still, Bochy said, "that's not acceptable to have a game like that. I don't care if it is Spring Training. ... We want to get some consistency here, and our game's going to have to be pitching and defense. That's the only way it's going to work, and certainly none of it was there today."

This is of course because we have NO offense!

Zito remained upbeat despite beginning his Cactus League season with a 108.00 ERA. Then again, his Opening Day start at Dodger Stadium was still 30 days away.

How on God's green Earth do you remain upbeat when you ERA is higher than your fucking batting average?!?!

Zito focused on his physical condition, not his statistics, as pitchers tend to do at this time.

If your stats are shit then how the fuck is your physical condition doing well? He is not sore? Who gives a fuck, he only pitched 2/3 an inning. Was he not ill? It would have been nice because then he would have at least had an excuse. So explain to me how he physically was doing well? What, were his balls hanging in his cup just right that day?

"If I felt terrible and the results were better, it wouldn't have been a win in my book," said Zito, who lasted two-thirds of an inning. "Right now, it's about having the body feel good and getting the pitch count up. Obviously you don't want to give up runs, but this is Spring Training."

I don't care if you are on ecstasy and having your cock sucked or so fucking depressed that you are on round the clock suicide watch, fucking pitch, and pitch to win! I don't give a fucking rat's ass how you FEEL. You are not paid (way too much) to FEEL! You are paid to fucking throw the ball past the batters and into the catchers glove, not FEEL. You can tell me how you feel after you win the World Series and then, and only then, will I give a fucking damn about how you FEEL. Asshat.

Zito took solace in his fastball, which he said he threw "downhill," and from his perception that most of Oakland's hits off him came on low pitches.

"I want to start missing below the glove this year," Zito said. "If I'm throwing balls, I want to be down."

Correct me if I am missing something here, but if you have the perception that most of the hits came off your low pitches, then why in God's name would you want to throw low? And why are you taking solace in the pitch that everyone and their frail 90 year grandmas hit? Again, asshat.

Luck also conspired against Zito. With one out, a run in and the bases loaded, Zito fooled Donnie Murphy, who hit a swinging bunt between the pitcher's mound and first base. Neither Zito nor first baseman Dan Ortmeier had a play on the ball, which went for a single. Four more singles in a row followed.

One out. One run in. Bases loaded. A dinky infield hit that should have, but wasn't fielded by the pitcher or the first basemen. Four singles in a row.

Luck? The only luck I see in that is the one out.

"You can't really assign blame on those. Those are just 'tweeners," Zito said.

Tweeners? Really? Tweeners? I am going to go along with Bochy's philosophy of repetition here.

Asshat.

Thy name is Legion.

You would not think it something to brag about, but I am very adept at being able to shop at and leave Safeway stores with none or few plastic bags. Today I give up my bragging rites and join the ranks of those who can only shake a fist at the sky and curse the brainless masses of this world.

Let me reminisce to you my past conquests against the environment-hating landfill hog that is Safeway...

There was the time that I went against the checker who after soullessly asking, "Paper or plastic?" to me (a rare question which socked and heartened me at first) it became immediately apparent that even she was a mindless drone simply going through the motions. After my, "Paper please." response she begin reaching for the plastic bags in a robotic manor. My first attempt at saying, "Paper!" louder did not deter her, so in the nick of time I leaned over the counter and in an even louder voice yelled, "PAPER!" into her face. This was enough to reset her autopilot and with a nod she began bagging my groceries in the correct receptacle.

There was the time that upon announcing to both the checker and bagger that I wished to have paper, I masterfully caught out of the corner of my eye that my request had not penetrated the two foot bubble of 'all the exists in the world' encompassing the checker drone. With lightning speed I threw out my hand to stop their advancement toward the plastic bags. This made my existence known to them so that I was able to explain my preference to him, again.

There have been the numerous times that even after authoritatively and with eye contact I have given my 'paper' command to each drone present, that I must then go a step further and give them directions as to not put my paper bag in a plastic bag. Sometimes this needs to be explained a second time, but like I said before, I pride myself on being able win against a foe that outnumbers me and is incessantly stubborn in its brainlessness.

Today I failed. Not only did I fall to the enemy, but they rained down revenge from years of leaving the battleground successfully with only paper bags. Let me now tell you about this sad defeat and merciless vengeance.

This morning upon looking at my grocery list I estimated that 2 bags would be needed to hold them all. I went to the cupboard below the sink and removed two paper bags; making sure of course that they were from the same store I was intending to shop at. I entered the battlefield two paper bags and one grocery list in hand. Fifteen minutes later I fearlessly approached my adversary with my now full basket. At the moment the first item was about to be scanned I proclaimed my desire to reuse the two bags I had with me and handed them over to the bagger drone. I then turned my attention to the checker drone and explained my need to buy stamps, all the while keeping his cohort with in sight. That is when they struck!

My opponent at the check register, which held my needed stamps, looked at me and mumbled something with which I could only decipher the words eight and twenty four from within the sentence. I asked for clarification but that only yielded the same nonsense. Instead of trying to give an education on the need to part one's lips in order to speak, I decided to try and communicate with this life-form by saying, "Uh, twenty four?" My guess at his initial communication had been wrong obviously because the mumbling human look-a-like in front of me, seeming shocked by my response, then explained to me that they only had books of twenty four stamps. His sudden ability to speak coherently shocked me and it would only be too late that I would realize that this had all been a ruse to distract me.

Upon being handed my stamps I turned to collect my...bags?

But I was not looking at my two paper bags! What I was looking at was one 6-pack of beer and nothing else, placed in a paper bag with in a plastic bag. The other paper bag was filled with two items and my chicken wrapped in a plastic bag, and all of this then in a plastic bag. The last of my items were all placed in a brimming double plastic bag.

But then came the final death blow! This callous and unforgiving spawn from a corporate demon had wrapped a plastic bag around the handle for my cat litter. The sadistically jovial exclamation behind me from the deceptive checker of, "Oh Joe! That is such a good idea. How nice of you." was a final plunge into my heart heathen hordes from yore used to do after a battle to ensure no survivors.

I was forced to walk with my head held low out of those sliding doors with six plastic bags. Some may ask why I did not take a final stand and demand the removal of all the unwanted bags. Some may say that I gave in and surrendered. They do not understand the depth of vile filth from which this demon Safeway sprouted from. For if you decide to take that final desperate swing you are given an even more excruciating end. The baggers, while looking uncaring into your eyes, will throw each of those bags into the trash below them, even though there is a recycling bin for just such bags only steps outside the front door. Even defeated they force you to silence your own voice in order to remain on the moral high ground.

I curse you Safeway. I curse you.

2008?

Invariably, at every New Years party, someone asks, "What do you have planned for (enter year)?" This usually happens toward the beginning of the party before the champagne has started to take effect. Later on, it is due to the champagne that ridiculous resolutions are made.

Well this time when the question was asked it struck me that 2008 is going to be so wildly different than 2007 that I don't know if I will even recognize myself in 6 months. That is, if everything goes according to plan, and by plan I mean that there is not much of one.

In the last couple of years I have moved to a cheaper place to live, gotten rid of my car, and dropped the idea of buying my own place and therefore stopped saving for it. In short, no financial responsibilities. If I felt like going out to eat all week, so be it. Night out on the town? No worries. Night out on the town two or three nights in a row? So what. That awesome jacket/shirt/pants/whatever in the store window? So mine.

Starting yesterday that all changed. I am now back on a student's budget. No more calling for a delivery of chicken parmigiana with garlic bread and opening a bottle of wine for dinner. It is back to 101 creative ways to cook top ramen. The expensive and in a perfect location apartment I have will have to be traded for a cheaper pad and hoofing or busing it. Going out with friends every other night will be limited to happy hour once or twice a week...

You get the picture.
Doing all of this before is not that distant of a memory but after the last couple of years will take some getting use to.

Then there is going back to school.
This in itself is not so much a problem, but after numerous visits to different colleges, if being given a tour or talking to "advisers" who I swear do not look old enough to drink (legally) and keep calling me ma'am is any indication of what I will be experiencing in class, then I am in for a shock. Back at UCSB and SBCC I remember there always being that one older person in class. They did not hang out with the rest of us after class or join any study groups, when they talked in class their input seemed foreign or "old" and they were always chummy with the teacher because they seemed to "understand" each other. Well I am going to BE that person for some now.

I keep promising myself that I will try and not give any knowing smirks when someone brags about how "smashed" they got last weekend or complains about their roommate not doing the dishes. I keep saying to myself that I will not befriend the teacher and chat with them about topics unrelated to the class, well at least not in front of everyone. I will try and not start any sentences with, "Well I remember..." or, "Well, it use to be..."

Yeah, we will see how that goes.

But of course the biggest change in 2008 is moving to Portland. It is not that Portland is that strange, it is actually a lot like Seattle and only a three hour drive away, it is that I am moving by myself.

For half my life living at home I shared a room with my brother. When I moved to Santa Barbara it was with my friend Dre. All seven years in SB I lived with at least one other person. When I moved to Seattle it was with Greg. Of course this was with the intention of him getting his own place as soon as we got up here, but with in two hours of being in Seattle I begged him to stay awhile. It was six months later he moved out.

I have been living in my own place for two years now, but that was after I had enough time to get myself acquainted with Seattle, make some friends, got a job - basically get settled in. I still can not bear to be alone for more than half a day.

But I guess I will be getting use to that soon too...

I think I am going to go have a local micro brewed beer right now, while I can still afford it, am able to share it with others, and they will not look at me as "old" for doing so.