While I understand that someone who is being carried away for OD'ing on Heroin doesn't exactly have the high ground, I do have one question Mr. Police Officer, and that's "did you have to steal my i-pod?" When you took it from me when I was being wheeled away and accused me of stealing it from my friends, I protested and cursed but inwardly though "at least someone's looking out for my fellow junkies" but when I found out you never even offered it to them, I knew differently. But hey, times are tough and I'm a sympathetic person. But keep in mind the next time you steal an i-pod that the person may be like me, in that if I can't get my "fix" of the Black Eyed Peas, I will get my fix of something equally as terrible.
As I cycled carefully and slowly from the street onto the half-block of sidewalk that my building's bike entrance is on, you took it upon yourself to sneeringly and aggressively yell at me, "You're not supposed to ride on the sidewalk!"
I informed you that I was going into the entrance 20 feet away but you continued to berate me at volume. Since I have anger management issues and didn't enjoy being verbally accosted whilst doing NOTHING WRONG, I simply told you in enthusiastic terms to fuck off, but let me take this opportunity to enlighten you: YOU ARE WRONG.
Cyclists can ride on the sidewalks if a) it's not safe to ride in the street on that stretch, OR b) you are going into an entrance on that block face, AND c) you are going no faster than a walking pace.
So, dickface, when I'm obeying the law and being a considerate rider, I really don't expect to be hassled by some entitled, crabby old cracker who hasn't been laid in 10,000 years.
And I wasn't kidding - if you ever talk to me again, I'll consider it an invitation to break your ugly nose. I almost hope it happens just so that the world can see the spectacle of you in your suit, getting your ass kicked in public by a young woman wearing dorky bike commuting clothes.
Busting bad guys, cuffing & stuffing criminals. Did you ever dream that on your holster you'd have a touch screen pad wirelessly connected to a printer on your motorcycle? Well thank you officer chicken sh*t for stepping in and taking down a potential Hillsboro homeowner. I almost looked at a house to purchase in your crummy strip-mall infested township.
Cops of Portland, why is it that you can get away with fining people for not cleaning up their dog poop, but have the freedom to not clean up your horse shit as I am tired of living around it daily- which can be read two ways...
I walked home from the 20 on Saturday night and saw a poster. Lost: Heart Found: Happiness.
Let's put aside that this sentiment is based out of a 16 year old "philosophy." Was it really fucking necessary to have 3 of them on each block? Even the taggers aren't that obnoxious. By the time I reached home, which is pretty far down the alphabet, I counted 30 of them.
And to the assholes who threw paint all over the BoA ATM. Way to stick it to the man! And by the man I mean my husband who went to deposit his paycheck. You sure showed him.
The revolution will come with lame ass posters and paint all over an ATM. Apparently.
To the woman who decided to put her pet snake on the Barnes and Noble bathroom counter whilst washing her hands; what the hell is wrong with you?! I come out of the stall after changing my baby's very wet and very poopy diaper, approach the sink to wash my hands, and am assaulted by the sight of your devilish reptile friend. Instead of practicing good hygeine, I am forced to run out of the bathroom screaming. Next time I go to the bathroom at the bookstore, I am bringing in a dictionary with me, and if your little pet is on the counter again, I am going to smash it.
Sorry about that, I had no idea my clown outfit would upset you so much. But did you ever take into consideration that I have a fear of monkeys, and your monkey suit was really not OK in my book. Hopefully on monday when we se each other at work there is no "Tension."
To the DB that almost ran me and my dog over on 21st. Not only did we have the right of way but you called me a dykey bitch for being in your way. I would love to find you and your little-dick-need-to-buy-an-expensive Mercedes, slash your tires and show you how I can be a dykey bitch.
Okay? Thanks for ruining my day and I hope I get the honor to ruin yours.
Specifically the bitch who almost hit me with her car while pulling out without looking today. This happens EVERY day, but you really took the cake. The fact that you were mad at me when you were the one almost killing me was ridiculous enough, but then you has the audacity to shout "It's called A SCHOOL!" at my retreating figure. I seriously almost crapped myself due to how retarded an explanation that was.
Yeah, it's a school. With kids around. It's also a street and bike thoroughfare (hence the bikes painted on the ground, but I don't expect you to notice that in your fit of breeder entitlement). Act like the responsible adult you're pretending to be and keep your eyes on the fucking road, or else have the decency to apologize when you're caught acting like a total asswipe at the expense of someone else.
I was going about 90 miles an hour somewhere in residential SE and blew through a couple stop signs, slammed on my brakes, spun into your parked car — which probably stopped me from flipping over. Amazingly, I was able to drive away. Sorry about that.
Also, sorry for being too drunk to have sex with you for, oh, several years.
I apologize for blacking out on many, many nights and trying to piece together the details the next day via my cell phone texts, receipts in my pocket, blood in the sink, bottles next to the bed.
Sorry to everyone whom I stole liquor from. If I replaced it or diluted it with water, I'm even more sorry.
I'm sorry to my friends and coworkers, who have had to endure my bullshit excuses for a very long time.
I apologize for throwing up in your yard, or stuffing beer cans and wine bottles in your bushes.
Sorry about my half-hearted suicide attempt, which I can't even remember. That kind of takes the cake.
I've been drinking every day for the last 12 years or so. This is the third day in a row I've been sober. I don't have anyone to share that with.
Dear Mean-Mug Sticky Fingers,
I'm sure you're normally a very nice person who smiles all the time and remembers to pay for things, right?
Since you didn't leave a tip on your drinks, I'm assuming you were just out of money. And the cookie was calling to you, 'Take me... I'm delicious... You must have me!'
So, when I had my back to the room for half a minute, it was the perfect opportunity. I turned around in time to see you walking out the door like a sneaky Winona Ryder ninja stuffing your face with stolen cookie.
Does it taste better that way? Were you harkening back to your days of youth when you'd jack cookies from your grandma's house? Maybe it was the two glasses of wine you nursed for three hours that emboldened you?
Well, wild-thing, here's a TIP: This isn't your grandma's house.
Hope the heartburn was worth it.
First off, why are you driving on 23rd? You know it's a traffic and pedestrian nightmare. The even numbered streets on both sides are usually quiet and have way less traffic.
(This goes for you too cyclists. If you're too afraid to bike down 23rd then go down 22nd! Not hard.)
But the other thing is, you know those little stripey bits on the road? THOSE ARE FUCKING CROSSWALKS. People use them to cross the road. You know, cross the road by walking. You are required, by law, to fucking stop for people.
To the total fucking horrible person who went speeding through them and almost hit a woman (for the 50th time this month) you need to have your license taken away. I saw your angst. You were so sad :(((( you know what you should have done? Pulled the fuck over and handed over your keys to someone competent.
Get this, there is nowhere you have to be that's so important you can't wait for someone to cross the road.
As a side note, you idiots still going the wrong way down Burnside near the couplet, you've had plenty of time to adjust. Stop being fucking stupid!
I'm so sorry that you hate Jewish people.
I'm also sorry that you reacted so poorly to me telling you that I'm never coming back to your shitty, grease-laden dump of a restaurant because of the MULTIPLE, HORRIBLE anti-Semitic comments you made as I was waiting in line to order.
I'm also sorry that you physically and verbally assaulted me after I calmly informed you that your hate speech had lost you a customer.
I'm really sorry that I had to file that police report against you, alert the BBB about your insanity, and write an I, Anonymous about you and the terrible, awful things that you think you can say and get away with.
But mostly, I'm really sorry that I didn't push you into your boiling hot grease traps the first time you put your knobby, hate-hands on me.
Chicks with pics on Lovelab. Y'all know me. But if I had to say something, is about the pictures and self portraits. Why is it that one in 4 comes out looking cute and fun? Are those pics taken after several months of being in Portland? This thing bugs me out of my mind. I can't take it anymore. Why would you do that? Let's improve the love lab so the intelligent and capable can reproduce in an orderly fashion please. Goddammit, no one wants to see pictures that aren't cute. Why don't you place only cute ones? In bikini, playing with your dog, getting a tattoo. You have to be weird don't you? ouuuuuuughhhhhhhh.
I wanted some new clothes. I really wanted to spend a shitload of money in some store on clothes for me.
But what the fuck is it with you Portland? The mainstream stuff is bland and awful. The Portland designer stuff is full of neutral colors and god knows what other bullshit. It's awful. Thinking Portland has anything remotely fashionable is a fucking joke.
And where exactly do you find designer stuff since Saks closed? Nordstrom is so boring I might die and Macy's... well.
Portland, step it the fuck up. We don't have to dress like we don't care. And Portland designers, it's ok not to use horrendous eco friendly dyes. Or to take a risk some time. Jesus Christ.
For now, my money will be spent on one of the many websites where you can get something interesting.
If your license plate is something super easy to remember like 555FBG then maybe you shouldn't do an illegal U-turn on red in the bright 10AM morning light.
Me: in the enormous, well-marked white crosswalk.
You: almost hit me
I got an excellent view of your van's receding backside. Prepare for your citizen's ticket.
To the man who bought me a copy of David Graeber's book when he overheard me say I couldn't afford one as I spoke to the author after his lecture and Q&A on 1/24. To the two young men who stopped and insistently offered help when I flipped my bike over the streetcar tracks at NW 9th and Lovejoy at 11PM last night. To the staff at Legacy Good Samaritan who continue to care for my broken clavicle. Thanks for being there.
So last week, somebody left a copy of the libertarian rag "Reason" in the break room. I thought about pasting a new title on it ("Magical Thinking") but instead deposited a copy of "The Nation" next to it. Today, Bill O'Reily's ghost-written and factually-challenged book "Killing Lincoln" showed up.
Besides being disturbed by working closely with free-market fundamentalists and rabid right wingers, I'm perplexed at how to answer their latest salvo. I'm tempted to just toss the O'Reilly book where it belongs.
Any other ideas?
The gym won't let me post signs in the locker room so here goes:
To the lady that stole my bag and purse out of my locker at the gym,
RETURN MY PURSE AND THERE WILL BE NO QUESTIONS ASKED! You can keep my phone (even though I only it in my possession TEN HOURS before you stole it). That brown leather purse you stole from me can not be replaced. My grandmother gave that to me last year, 5 months before she past away. I've already replaced my keys, replaced my cards, and f*ck me for buying such an expensive phone in the first place. But please, the next time you go in to pump iron or lay in the sauna, just drop my purse off in the locker room. Do it when no one is looking or the locker room is empty or leave it in a bathroom stall for all I care- Just leave it. Until then, I will continue to give to death glare to every woman that walks through my gym. Spare us all.
I drank so much at Joes Cellar one night in 2007 that I drove my car up the MAX ramp on the Steel Bridge, blocking all eastbound trains. Sometime before I blacked out, I decided to drive an hour north for sex. I was probably trying to get to I-5 but don't even remember getting in the car. The next thing I knew I was stuffing items from the car under my tires, spinning them trying to get back down the ramp. Eventually I gave up, threw my pipe, weed and for no reason my cellphone over the railing, then waited for the latenight train to show up. It came, I stepped on and explained the situation. I just wanted the police to come and take me away, but that never happened. The two cops that came had no interest in arresting me. They didn't even ask how much I drank. They called a tow truck. People were abandoning the train and jumping in cabs for the airport. Eventually the tow truck came. We were all baffled as to how the car came to rest where it did. We couldn't get the tow truck anywhere near my car, so we had to winch it slowly, 50 feet back to the road. Then one cop instructed me to park it and settle up with the tow truck driver. "You want me to drive it?" I remember saying. The MAX driver was in a fit as the cops got in their car to leave I pulled around and paid for the tow. It was dawn by then. I drove a few blocks, parked again, and hiked my way back to the Steel Bridge ramps. The bums took my pipe and buds, but I found my phone! Thanks bums! And thanks Portland Police!
I love the show because working and living in Portland you come to realize there not stereotypes but actual idiots you see every day in this stupid city. Tailgating is a problem here, I even got passed on Burnside at six in the morning! Wake up and realize your sheep...I can go out and buy red skinny jeans in my mid thirties, and borrow some Vans or Converse, pierce my face and grow muttonchops; I can vote and pretend to care about the earth while wearing leather...I wish all these Vegan idiots would realize us people who work in the food industry laugh at you and lie to you about how our food is handled and cooked; your stupid veggie sausage is cooked in same fryer as fish, pork and beef you morons!! This city is so predictable and uniformed they made a whole show about you idiots...Grow up hipsters, stop ordering Pabst and rolling your own cigarettes, its been done before!!
To the two ignorant freaks that were in the hot tub with me tonight debating on whether or not they were more skinheads, or greasers, I hate you. I knew I disliked you when you made snide comments about my tattoos. I loathed you even more when you were arguing about whether or not the type of pomade you used for your hair was more superior than the others. I'm sorry, but I thought "skinheads" had no hair? Is your pomade seeping through your scalp into your brain cells? Associating yourself with a subculture that supports the mass murder of innocent people is NOT FUCKING COOL. You may think you're so punk rock, so anti-social norm. But really, you're anything but. You're everything people grow to hate about Portland. You pick a terrible stereotype to fit into, and you think your way is the only way. Personally, I think you should just identify with the Greaser category. Bursting into random song would be much more pleasant.
I don't think I have experienced a day driving in Portland without some idiot riding my bumper within 3-6 ft. Am I missing something? Is tailgating a perectly acceptable driving habit here? I can be going the speed limit or 10 miles over, yet someone will continue to ride my tail even if both lanes are empty on either side. Well no more! Next time i'm tailgated, I will either slow to a near gradual stop, lob full soda cans onto your windshield, or slam on the brakes and collect the insurance. Back off! It's extremely rude, dangerous, and not legal!
Why is it that, in order to be an 'artist' in this town, you have to live like a pig? Seriously. In what way does a lack of personal hygiene and property maintenance relate to 'creating art'? I really don't get it. I don't know how many houses I've been to where a bunch of unwashed 'artists' live and there's dirt for a lawn, numerous disassembled bikes strewn about, beer bottles that have been on the porch for what appears to be months and a general aura of filth. Not only this, but these people have to shove their 'art' in your face every chance they get. Being loud and arrogant is not a substitute for creativity.
"Hey man, we like creating art here, fuck the Man's rules on keeping our shit clean, and fuck the neighbors too. Pass the Kombucha, dude". It just turns me off and whatever 'art' you think you're creating is just written off as a piece of crap made by some spoiled dumb-shit with nothing better to do. Btw, I write songs and if anyone wants to hear my stuff, drop me a line.
I have come up with a great opportunity for your publication. Why not have a get together for people who comment on IA and blogs? It seems there are about 20 or so people who do so and often get in spirited debates even throwing words like "racist", 'retard" and "pussy" around. Don't you think this could be epically funny to have all these people in the same venue? Imagine what it would be like to find out that the person who threatens you via the internet looks like Woody Allen...think of the comedy! Naturally, we have to adhere to civilized behavior as no one needs a riot. See all you vegan,s bike riders, and vintage clothing wearing hipsters there:)
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