I get that smokers are the pariah of the world. Everyone hates us. Everyone tells us it's bad for us, stupid, they don't like it, no sympathy or whatever. And that's fine. We still smoke. So that out of the way.
Look bored security guards at Pioneer Courthouse Square. I am walking down the sidewalk. I am not walking through the square. I am on north bound trajectory and minding my own business. So stop stopping me and telling me there's "no smoking on the square." See now by stopping me you are making sure I am smoking on the square. So good job bright spark.
I know there's no smoking on the square. And I'm not smoking on the square. And if the sidewalk part of the square isn't a public right of way, it's the only park in Portland that has that rule. Next time I'll stop and talk to you about it. Because I want to know what's going on in your tiny little pea brain that you think this is a worthwhile expenditure of your time and mine. You're rapidly becoming as irritating as canvassers and spangers. Also, your fake badge ain't fooling anyone.
If you do decide to kick me out or give me a ticket, it's going to be entertaining for me. I'm not going to show you my ID or give you my name and address. I'm going to make you call the real police and waste their time. I'm going to prove to you that you have no real authority by only answering to people that do. It's going to be painful. For you.
Also CAN WE STOP CALLING IT THE FUCKING SQUARE.
To the woman dating my husband,
Have you not considered the many possible reasons my husband, your "boyfriend," and I are not divorced? That is, other than the dishonesty he placates you with? Has he happened to mention to you how much we love each other? And how we both want, deep down, to save our marriage, but pride, shame, and fear get in the way? With those tasks ahead of us on our path to true love (yes, true love,) do you really think you need to be here, adding to my husbands shame? Because what type of woman would overlook a marriage? The same type that ignores a mans saddness and poor health (you kiss that sick mouth?) to call him her own? The type too delusioned to realize her "boyfriend" (a married man) is emotionally and physically unfaithful to her? Not a woman to be proud of.As the wife of your boyfriend I can rightly wage, you are pathetic. Please free my husband from the grip of shame earned by your aquaintance, it sparks his narcasistic disorder and keeps all three of us from our full potential of happiness.
I love my freaking dog. Anyone who knows me, knows this. I'm sure you love yours dearly too. So, PLEASE, put your dog on a leash when you're walking around in public. I realize your dog is probably really well trained and you don't think it will ever leave your side, BUT IT'S A DOG. Dogs are unpredictable, well, because THEY'RE DOGS.
Have you ever seen your dog freaked by a loud sound or lunge at another animal? Or how about if some idiot stranger sticks his hand or face near your hound and gets bitten? What the hell are you going to do then, when your pup gets killed because it runs into traffic or gets put down because it sunk its teeth into little Jimmy's eyeball? So, PLEASE, leash your dog. Oh yeah, and it's the fucking law.
Dear Gregory Heights Library Large Print Reader—I'm calling you out! Your copy of FIFTY SHADES FREE was due twenty days ago and yet you have not turned it in. You're holding up the line! I chose large print because I thought it would be quicker but you're screwing that up for me. Read it, beat yourself off, and then turn it back in.
Dear little stores—I go to you because I love you, but I don't buy your stuff because of your guilt trip and fees. Please understand that I dislike the large chains as much as you do. However, let me explain what your customers must go through when we try to support your store.
First, all your merchandise is marked up. Second, you guilt us with bunch of notes near the register about how you're getting screwed by banks' fees. And, finally, you sigh in disdain when we try to pay with a credit card.
I can cope with the mark-ups and even the ATM surcharge. However, the guilt trip is the last straw. Sorry, but I'm going to Freddys. They suck, but at least they don't make me feel bad.
You constantly complain about trivial inconveniences and barely perceptible slights. You assume that any time someone wronged you, it was intentional. You always imagine that others are trying to prove something to you, or that every one of their actions is meant to draw your attention. You seem to believe that everyone you see is somehow thinking about you, that they are acting to affect you. You act as though your life is the most difficult that any life has ever been. You disregard all of the evidence that almost every human who has ever lived has had fewer material conveniences and fewer options in life than you have. You are unable to accept that almost every human in history has suffered more than you. You are not special. You are not pitiable. You are the worst kind of self-absorbed narcissist. But at the root of it all, you are weak. You are unable to determine a course of action that would improve your condition because you are mentally weak, and you are unable to cope with any of your (mostly self-inflicted) problems because you are emotionally weak. Your weakness is why your life is so hard.
Blaming someone for causing a problem (even if that blame is correctly placed), is not ever a sufficient solution to that problem.
Hey, jackass who stole my coat and favorite hat from a Hawthorne bar on Christmas Eve: I'm sure you know stealing is wrong. This isn't Les Miserables, and if you have starving children at home, I'm sure they're not crying out for the nourishment of peacoats and cabbie hats. I had that cap for over twelve years and a lot of sentimental attachment. You wouldn't even be able to sell them for another two days when the local shops open again, you jerk.
So don't feel good about yourself for leaving my keys behind with a napkin note saying to call a phone number that turned out to be disconnected. You weren't doing me a favor or mitigating the fact that you took something that didn't belong to you. You're still a bad person for stealing, and all you did was make a bad situation weird and creepy.
A few questions that I'd appreciate Merc readers' two cents on:
To the fellas:
Why do you have tons of pictures on your profile of you with half naked chicks? Or your ex girlfriend?
Why do you send messages to women that are clearly not a match for you? Whether it be education level, looks, location, interests, etc? If I like HH in the Pearl and kung fu flicks at Hollywood theatre and you love hunting and never head more west than Gresham - are you fucking kidding me??!!!
If I post that a "deal breaker" is you doing drugs, and write me a hateful email stating I'm a fucking bitch or an uneducated whore because marijuana is NOT a drug because it comes from the Earth - what do you fucking want from me? To fight via email? To change my mind? Just fuck off, pot head. Find yourself a nice pot head girl. It's just not my thing.
Also, sending me an email with, "Hey cutie, you seem sexxy. We'd make a cute couple." as your opener is the shittiest, dumb fuckiest thing ever. Don't be so desperate and unoriginal. It's repulsive. I will just post your emails on my blog for everyone to see how lame you are.
It was a great xmas day - up early - opening presents with my daughter, breakfast with our family, then off to other friends house for drinks, dinner and laughs galore, back home, drop the car off, smoke out and walk 10 blocks to the Sandy Hut with hot awesome fab GF to have late night drinks and play my favorite game in the world until I found out how you managed to kick my day in the balls.
Real rad stuff stealing those two red shuffleboard pucks from the Sandy Hut - High Class Badass you are - Ooooooh.... The pride and respect you now command from The dickwit community as they nod their repectful dues at how you've 'fucked shit up' for Shuffleboarders on Xmas day and every day thereafter.
So what are you gonna do with them Mc Fuckshitmeister? Cos buttplugs they ain't and they're no good for chopping lines on on either. You can't shout it loud and proud cos a crime against the Sandy Hut is a crime against all. You essentially stole the wallet from a 67 year old table. That's right I said it! you know why? cos I'm from Scotland and I'm "the Scottish guy who likes to play Shuffleboard at the Sandy Hut" ALOT!!!!..... and when I find you I'm gonna say it real loud in front of lots of people and take those pucks off you and retry that Buttplug scenario on you.
And If I don't the 10 other members of my Shuffleboard gang (yes - I roll with a SB posse) will.
So do yourself, the Sandy hut and shuffleboarders everywhere a favor and put them back.
I'm tired of assholes driving around after dark using only parking / marker lights. You flipped the switch halfway, how much effort does it take to go all the way and actually use the headlights on your car?
But I don't think it's laziness. I think people are convinced that they look tough with only the parking lights, like they're piloting a stealth bomber or something. Well, that'll look real awesome when someone doesn't see your dumb ass and you cause an accident. Way to go, jackass.
Similarly, if you're driving around with only your parking lights because you're pretending to be a thug— well, don't complain about being stopped and searched unreasonably, you moron. Might as well slap some bullet hole / pot leaf decals on the back window and get a vanity plate that reads YOLO.
And the last group of these assholes (as I imagine them) are the cheapskates who get butthurt about daytime running lights ("It's my choice as an Amurrican!!) and such. It gets dark at about 4pm these days... 7pm comes around and these tools still trying to save a penny or two worth of bulb lifespan by careening around the roads in near-darkness. Again, have fun when you kill someone who didn't see you coming. Totally worth it so you'll only have to buy two sets of replacement bulbs over the lifespan of your car, rather than three. What a bargain.
So there I was, waiting in line at the buffet table, empty cup in hand, peacefully waiting my turn. As the fellow in front of me finished pouring his drink, some rude guy cuts in front of me. Nobody was standing on the other side of the table where there were other carafes of beverage, so I went abound the other side. Of course, out nowhere again, another impatient guest, cut me off. He poured three glasses of chocolate milk, then turned and left the table.
I stepped up and as began to pour a couple of ounces into my still empty cup, the guy who just left, tapped me on the shoulder and said: "excuse me, but I'm not done yet." I stood my ground and said to him that he had cut ahead of me in the first place and if he didn't like it, he shouldn't do it to others. He replied: "I said excuse me." As I moved over to top of my cup with hot coffee I said; "Taste of your own medicine" He repeated back to me: "Taste of my own medicine." then splashed a cup of liquid in my face. The crowd went: "Oooowwh. I calmly finished filling my cup, as he continued leaned over the corner of the table to stay in my face. As I started towards him, he backed away. I chased him about twenty feet before he finally stopped, and extended his arm his open palm up in my face to ward me off. I deflected his arm a few times until he finally tensed it up so it couldn't be moved. He was frozen in place like a deer caught in the headlights. I splashed the entire cup of coffee all in his face as slowly as I could. The crowd exclaimed: "AHhhhhwwwwww!" As if I was the bad guy.
You just sampled a chunk of cheese at a store. Now you keep the toothpick in your mouth to make you look like a tough guy.
Your not so tough, it's funny to watch you though, as you work your self through the rest of the store. Trying some bullshit at the checkout with your "I'm so rough" toothpick given to you on arrival.
Once that gnarly uppercut punch to a guy with a toothpick in his mouth makes its way to the news, it's all over for you fucks. Over!
I'm so fucking excited about this new trend I see on the road now: people driving with their fog lights on all the time. Motherfuckers, if I have to get blinded by another asshole using their bright ass fog lights, I'm going to lose it. How many days do we have actual fog in this town, like 3? I hate these simpleminded city dwellers, who don't think about their actions. You people do know that you can turn off these fucking lights, right? Are you that fucking dumb? Remove that massive triple patty burger out of your mouth, take that sweaty paw of yours and turn off your fucking fog lights when there's not fog. The way people are nowadays, they probably take pleasure in the blinding of others, so what's the point of complaining about it? Nothing's going to change, it'll only get worse, as more and more dumb fucks move here from wherever they come from. You dumb fucks.
This is my end of the world bucket list
To all you bitches, I love ya! To all you other bitches, kiss my ass!!
It aches me to say this especially during the holidays, but although I love my family, I greatly dislike them. Here I am visiting them for a couple of weeks, and I already want to go home after a few days. I cannot stand to be around them. I love you mom, but I dislike you. You embarrass me. You are unintelligent, rude, a pig, a disgusting eater, annoying, a whiner, and you made my childhood lonely and unpleasant because of your selfishness and paranoia. I dread my weekly conversations with you when we are apart. I do not talk to you because I want to, I talk to you because it is a chore. And to my sister, you are the most selfish, vapid, and superficial person that I know. The world does not revolve around you, but you think it does, and hence, you made my childhood a living hell because of this. Now you both seem nice, and wonder why I do not involve myself much. I really do not want to, the damage is done. l love you two, and will always want the best for you both, but I do not want to be around either one you. I would not mind living across the globe and not seeing either one of you two for years. Every time I go "home" I always slip back into depression and drink more. Neither one of you is healthy for me. I do not know how I am going to last another two weeks being in the same house as you, but hopefully, I can do it without going insane. I want to go to my home, be alone, and be away from you two. If anyone else has the same feeling, you are not alone.
I think you're like, crazy hot. Way out of my league hot. But, that's about it! There is no chemistry between us. You're sort of boring. And, your life seems really fucked right now. I feel REALLY bad for leading you on for this long. It's just not working out. Besides, I have boyfriend that I've been dating for 2 years. So...yeah...
I've seen squirrels dead on the street, as I am sure we all have. I've seen possums completely obliterated, raccoons destroyed beyond all recognition, a crow murdered, hawks hit, pigeons pummeled and every now and then, a poor little kitty killed. But, I've never seen a chicken all smushed up on a city street. I don't know why, but the thought got into my head about a week ago and it just didn't leave. I wanted/needed to see a chicken on the street, perhaps to make a statement, I don't know. And I ain't talking about a real chicken- I'm talking store bought and already dead. So, after buying a whole chicken last night, I threw it on the middle of a busy street that I drive. Today, there it was: a smashed chicken carcass, all squished with crows picking bits and pieces of its meat off the street. It was weird, to see something so unusual on the asphalt. What was most intriguing was the reason why it was strange simply because it's a chicken and not some urban 'wild' animal. We humans are selective in our sense of caring, aren't we? If it's ever on our dinner table, then we don't want to see it on the street. I'm almost looking forward to tomorrow, after this rain and with more cars and crows slowly taking away every bit of this poor chicken away. It really makes you think... it really does.
I tried to kill myself 4 times over the summer; ended up civilly committed and tried to kill myself in the hospital. In the meantime my family put my stuff in storage because I am broke. The hospital discharged me to be homeless and they're footing the bill for a motel until Friday.
What do I give my dear family for Christmas? I have a jar of peanut butter that's half eaten and three over ripe bananas.
You are the one who got arrested for kiddie porn. Who called me up to stand your bail and I said-no. I remembered you looking through the door at your nine year old niece while she showered, but when I asked you you said you were just getting a towel. Now I know why that did not seem right. The divorce will be through soon. Don't call me. Again. Ever.
I usually go crap around late afternoon Monday through Friday(always get paid to shit, always). I don't like to mess around, 2 minutes tops. During that short time, it never fails. You come in to the bathroom, sniff a few times, run some water and then leave.
A few of my coworkers have all experienced this phenomenon as well.
All we can tell is that you like to smell fresh feces and you wear smaller sized Keen shoes.
In the event you read this, please, slip a fiver or more under the stall door and I'll not flush it.
Here's the data in all its glory. For all the alt media and blogosphere fawning over Portland's "bikeyness," we're going to average around 4,000 bike trips (a total for both ways) accross the city's busiest bike bridge. Most of those trips are by the same person coming and going, so its actually closer to 2,000 unique riders accross the Hawthorne for the next couple of months.
That's not all that impressive. This stupid bike counter is probably going to backfire on bike advocates because now we actually have data that undermines their talking points about how Portland is a great year round bike town and we can be just like Amsterdam!
Actually, it won't backfire, because our government will just press on with green boxes "buffers," cycletracks on Cully Blvd. of all places, and all sorts of fluff not needed by the majority of people who actually bike in this town during the majority of the year when its not 75 and sunny and we need to hop from beer patio to beer patio. Cause its all part of the "plan."
I'm too much of a pussy to confront you people in person, so here I am. You're my new coworkers and I already hate all of you. This "career" of mine, if all goes well, will be 'the one' for the rest of my working life. This is it and it saddens me, the torment I know it will put me through. To the two fucks who insist on clipping your fingernails in your cubicles: I hate you both even I am friendly enough. Who waits until they get to work to do shit like that? With every 'clip, clip, clip' sound coming from your desk, my anger and desperation grows. And the "old guy", the guy who's been there the longest: must you cook (microwave) your breakfasts at work? I know your marriage must be miserable and you likely can't wait to leave your house each and every morning, but couldn't you at least eat a quick meal at home? Who waits to prepare their meals at the office? The worst part is the mundane office chatter that you HAVE to engage in. Do I really have 30 more years of this shit to look forward to? Is this what hell on earth looks like? I used to think Office Space was a hilarious movie, but not anymore. It was a mere hour and a half, while my personal hell will seemingly last a lifetime. Fuck me.
I do, I care, “the world has to end one day anyways,” and you know in your heart that it’s happening in 4 days. BUT it’s just simply not fucking happening on 12/21/2012 like you say. I understand your disappointed that Y2K didn't set us back to “rationality” as “United We should Stand” (Jesus tits, its “United We Stand” not “United We should Stand”) I also understand that with recent windstorms you’re scared. I’m happy that rite-aid has an abundance of candles (the red and white ones are your favorite) I think it’s cute that you’re letting your kids open presents on 12/20/2012 so they’ll have one day with their brand new materialistic coupon cut/black Friday toys. (I hit subscribe on your Facebook so I would get a text on my phone after your second post 12/5/2012) As of today you’re now giving personal shout outs to every single person on your Facebook between now and then, to express how much they mean to you. I will not deny you and unfriend you because of this, and I’m looking forward to the kind words you’re going to say to me before we all die a fiery death like you described on 12/7/2012.. Then, on 12/22/2012, I’m going to sad face every one of your posts, so I can watch my phone light up like a Christmas tree from all the 600 replies from your friends who already have a “you’re fucking crazy” opinion about how fucking insane you are. This is way better, then all those Jersey Shore episodes you commentary, and I appreciate you giving back to my friend acceptance. :)
I don't know why I did it, but I that's neither here nor there. I used to do it on occasion, pick up a hooker here and there. I was younger then and it was before this whole meth thing hit the streets, so that hookers were "cleaner". I don't know why I did it 2 nights ago... yes I do. My girlfriend of 3 years and I had finally ended it, after slowing going back and forth for months. I was driving home on the 84 and decided to get off and cruise 82nd. I know it's not the hotspot for prostitution anymore, but I drove it anyway. I felt seedy, not that I had any intention of doing what I did. There she was though, a cute woman walking a little north of Halsey... I circled the block and she threw me that sign. My heart raced. I picked her up, said I was looking for date, negotiated a price and she took me to her room. $50 for a "straight", which was quick and I felt like shit afterwards. I felt horrible, like I had just gone back 15 years to the days of my youth, when I was lost, alone and desperate. Her name was Sunny, this hooker and she was nice enough, I guess. I asked her if she knew where to get some coke, she said yes, so we went to the nearest ATM and then bought some. We got high, fucked some more and now it seems like a dream. A bad fucking dream.
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