Hi lady friend, I do not like you in the way you like me. You’re creeping me out and that’s why I haven’t called you or returned your text message or late night emails. Frankly, you’ve been crossing the line for a while, and I’ve only tolerated it because you’re trying really hard in life. I am proud of you, and yet disappointed too. With all of your energy, I would think some of it would translate into brain power. My friends have cut you off because you crossed lines with them too, you can’t keep falling in love with every boy who crosses your path, especially if they just want to be your friend. If you haven’t noticed, I’m the only dude in your life worth a damn, and that’s entirely your fault. But, I probably should have walked away too, tossing a match on the fuel soaked bridge behind me. Please do not try some desperate stunt to jam yourself into my life in the delusional hope that Valentine’s day will be different. It won’t, you’re insane for thinking it will, and I’m damn sure you’re planning something, so stop now, save your money and time for class. If I receive a fucking email from the Mercury, I know it will be from you because the other girls in my life (yeah, I’m not desperate! I just never tell you about my girlfriends) don’t do that stuff, so I will see straight through your obscure and cute message like your failed and embarrassing I,A awhile back. Don’t even try: find it somewhere else.
My previously loved Asian joint: I made the mistake of following you on twitter. This seemed necessary as you love to close randomly. I thought this would be a good way to keep up with your specials and figure out if you felt like being open on any given day. Imagine my surprise seeing your feed features nothing relevant to your business but only your right-wing political opinions. WTF dude? Hey if you want to be a Republican that is your choice but using your businesses' twitter for your personal views doesn't seem like a good idea to me, particularly since (im willing to bet) your customer base is mostly liberal. Though you decision making skills are clearly flawed as you then found it acceptable to call a loyal customer an asshole (among other things) You do know you have chosen to operate in SE Portland, right? Maybe the next time you move locations you could consider Vancouver? Keep on alienating your customer base Fella. Stay angry.
Umm, GO big fat fuck yourself!
You have officially hacky sack stalled my likeness for dating sites for just a moment. I like dating sites for three reasons; 1) I get to read all there is to read about Portland, and the people in it. 2) I get to stroll through man profiles, while forming a fucking “well aren’t you a big bag of fun” opinion. 3) I might just get lucky and score good conversation, and maybe meet someone new.
But you’re a fucking liar! Once conversation has been had, I typically like to add my new friends to facebook. Facebook is enticing, it’s fun to read in its history, and I love reading about those who are new to me. BUT while viewing your facebook page after our recent add, I found that everything you told me about yourself over the last few days was a lie. You can’t fucking get mad at me for not wanting to dating someone who only sees their kids every two weeks, you also have your address as a 4 star apartment in downtown Portland which cost about $4k a month, but yet you live on 33rd and Hawthorne.
You don’t even pay for your own garbage service, you drive it to your neighbors work, and you’ve only met them twice. If i were to guess and rate our first date before it happens, i would rate it as, you're going to be single for a really long fucking time, so no thank you.
Why is it you must make ridiculous noises? The grunts, sighs, and the most general discomforting noises known. You are guys for one, it's feces. Not a human baby.
I can't help but pay a attention to your shoes during all your grunts. When I see you out of the stall, recovered from your naked poop sitting "surgery", I'm always amazed,
When this happens (usually at Freddie's, new seasons, or restaurants) I'm the guy who pees a little left and splatters it on the floor. Essentially, peeing into your stall and splattering your socks with my pee.
I love it when mid poopin sigh, you go; "hey man, I'm in here" as I wet your little shit study with my urine.
Poop at home. Word 2 yer mum.
You walked into to my Optical shop, looking like a nice enough older gentleman but the first words out of your mouth were "You must be one of those gun people". Stunned, I had to ask you to repeat your idiocracy. When I realized you were referring to the pamphlet of Rudy Project Tactical Sunglasses with 4 United States soldiers holding guns I became aware of how stupid you really are. Guess what asshole, I have a 5 year old in a school just like Newtown, CT, so NO I am not for guns in the hands of maniacs. But you know what just because you are such a douchebag I am going to remind you that those weapons are in appropriate hands. So fuck off, fight your battle with someone else, not me, a well dressed closet ecohippie whose greatest offense is chaining myself to an old growth tree! Get a life and stop judging you crusty fart.
To the bitch who saw fit to almost hit me this morning at SE 32nd and Powell - I hope you enjoy the big Doc Martin boot sized dent in your back passenger door. You were clearly in tooo big a hurry to even stop and confront me. Had my daughter been with me or had you been about a centemeter closer we would be discussing this with the Police not I, Anonymous. In case you California fucks didn't realize, we take traffic laws seriously here especially in a school zone which is where you chose to attempt to blast a yellow light. I have your License plate number and will be contacting your insurance company so they can be made aware of your driving habits. I hope your claim goes well to get that dent removed.
Why do you all insist on exiting at the front of the bus? You fuck up the normal flow of boarding but no one here seems to notice, they just stand there stupidly and block the sidewalk. Unless you are elderly, infirm, or with child exit at the back of the bus like every other fucking bus system in the U.S. of A. Or is this just how the white, entitled population of Portland does it? Thankfully I just got a car and don't have to deal with you idiots anymore.
I am under attack by unknow organization that is using weapons that emit either microwave or emp or something of the like, not really sure. what i am sure of is the pain and discomfort they create. my body now has marks on it, and moles/skin discoloring from it. you can watch youre flesh move from it. my throat and neck area is being target daily, it makes it hurt and burn, inside and out. I have been to the FBI here in portland, and they said i was crazy. I offered to take any test they could give, to prove that i am not. nada. they wouldnt even give me a business card. and im sure the agent who interviewed me, gave me a fake name. If anyone can help me, please do. I feel my life may depend on it. This is not a joke, so please do not treat it that way.
I have done my family laundry here for many years, and I get that some of the patrons are less than hygienic.
If you are shown a washer that has actual chunks of shit inside, for everyone's sake, your response should include something stronger than glass cleaner and Kleenex. I know you don't get paid much but for your own sake put on a glove or something!! Bleach! I know you have some back there!
And assistant manager? You said you would "get someone on it," did you have some kind of timeline? Nobody came the hour and a half I was there.
While I'm at it, if you bring horse blankets to a laundromat, you are an asshole.
Dear Unsealing Revelation, please go take your direct mail and go fuck yourselves. I am Samuel L. Jackson-level pissed off about your fucking apocalypse porn showing up in my mailbox. You people make me fucking SICK with your pants-wetting urgent desire to have an apocalypse. (OHPLEEEEZE, Lord - just come down and do a little smiting!!) It must really consume all your waking and sleeping hours, creatively dreaming of all the sinners that are going to die in such HORRIBLE ways while you get the express treatment up to heaven. You want it SOOO badly like a little bitch, don't you? Vindication for THE HEATHENS being able to lead free lives with the partner(s) of their choice, sleeping in on Sundays, and having the freedom to define what makes them happy? Well, I hope you choke on your bullshit. Or better yet, I hope you can learn to just be good folks who aren't obsessed with the rest of us roasting in hellfire. Seriously, piss off.
We work together at a restaurant (cough) French food (cough) and I'm not sure you ever wash your clothes or even wear deodorant. I get it, you just finished school and you've been doing this serving gig for a long while now. I totally get it, man. Money is tight. But seriously, you really smell bad. I don't know, maybe you think because we sell french cuisine we should be "au natural" like the Parisians? Oui oui? No, no. Please get rid of the stench. I'm very close to speaking to our boss about it & I'm choosing this way to tell you becaus you are a tad bit too intense for my liking.
Signed, guy who showers and wears deodorant.
Yeah we're both in our 30s now. I know. But i still remember, clear as day, the bullshit you threw at me because I was one of life's little rejects in junior high. I could explain what was happening back then and why I was a loser but you probably wouldn't care. Because you were one of the privileged few. The popular girls.
So imagine my surprise when I see your name pop up on a mutual friend's Facebook account. I was transported back to my deep loneliness and instantly felt like a goddamned loser. Again. Until my darling husband pointed some things out:
- That haircut/color makes you look about 40. You're in your 30s now, stop going to fucking Bishop's. It's also, and how do I put this delicately, meant for someone 10 years younger.
-I traveled around Europe, have a great job and live in an excellent neighborhood. You're living in some shitty apartments downtown. Besides all that, I did some other awesome fucking things.
- And, this is key, the way I know the person on Facebook is through one of the most handsome men I've ever known. Who wouldn't have looked at you twice.
And you're their employee.
So bitch, I did fucking win. 13 year old me is laughing her fucking ass off. Goes to show those movies about the loser getting her revenge just by existing.
Well... yeah. Sometimes it works out.
Enjoy your loser life you nasty little piece of shit.
(PS the top down camera angle really just makes me think you got fat.)
This city isn't alone in idiots running around with paint cans tagging their mark on every possible vertical and horizontal surface. But your artwork majorly sucks. I don't get the point in ruining someone else's property without permission as most buildings in Portland are pretty good looking. That's just downright rude. I have nothing against a well-placed mural or other street art, mostly because those are painted by people with talent and approval.
Your shit sucks too. I can read hieroglyphics better than I can your stupid tags. I know, you think you're the next Banksy and probably get a boner everytime you pass your chicken scratch on your way to your probation officer.
And thanks for tagging the nice tree in my neighborhood. You show that corporate entity who's boss! I also love the paint that was splashed haphazardly on the sidewalk to be washed away in the rain. Way to turn your art into an environmental problem too, why stop at felonious vandalism, you know?
Instead of painting the city you need to talk over your daddy issues with a shrink, because you're severely mentally ill.
Oh and this rant includes the fucktards etching their artwork on windows around town. Now that's just over-the-top wrong.
Dear obese girl at the gym this morning,
Keep going! The look of determination on your face this morning while you power-walked on the treadmill was truly inspiring. I am being completely sincere. I could see the "YES I CAN" screaming out of your eyes, and dripping down your face. You inspired me to push that much harder today for my work out, so thank you. So keep going, you will meet your goals, I know you will!
The inspired gym bunny
When I received my property tax bill in November, I was not thrilled to see the assessed value of my house fall by $20,000. Imagine how thrilled I am to discover that my property taxes have gone up, largely as a result of the suite of levies passed last year. Portland area landlords I'm sure will be raising your rents since they are likely paying higher property taxes as well. So when you have to fork over more money to your landlord, remember how great it feels to contribute to the greater good. And when you move away next year, please take your spirit of giving with you.
God! What is wrong with you?! You are just a man, not some infallible philosopher king. You have needs like every other man on earth. You give and give and you never take, I don't get it. Why do you have to hold yourself to such a high standard? I'm everything you could ever want in a person, I've proven my loyalty, my dedication, I make you laugh, I listen to you, I understand how you see the world, and I want you smothered and covered like my Waffle House hash-browns. How can you take care of me, give me so much hope, and not want to take advantage of all my wild neuroses and insecurities?! I'd jump your bones six ways to sunday if you'd just stop being such a white knight and give me the go ahead. I'd give you anything you want, and all you want to do is make me happy. And because of that I'll be your mental and emotional whore until you let me be your physical one. Jerk.
You live in a fantasy world, obviously, and I somewhat envy you that.
When I first met you I thought you were a very successful video producer. You had tons of nice equipment all over your new house and seem to have hundreds of friends. It was only later than I found out that you were just a drug dealer with a very developed hobby. Still, you insisted on playing the professional and I helped you on many productions that you ultimately torpedoed with your apparent attention deficit disorder, assholeness and non-existent work ethic.
Being associated with you has black-listed me in this town. You don't give a shit and why should you? You still have your booming illegal drug trade to keep you afloat as you pretend to be something you clearly are not. I almost feel sorry for you...almost.
One of these days you are going to quit selling drugs/get busted and your little fantasy world is going to come crashing down around you. Those hundreds of friends? Gone. They were just customers who tolerated you for however long it took you to weigh up a bag, obviously.
It makes me sad thinking about that inevitability. Maybe it was the neediness I felt when I would come over and hang out. I don't do drugs so I must have seemed like a real friend to you, not just someone wanting to score. The way you would show me all your new gear like a child on Christmas day, eyes all bright...
Sad, just sad.
Spent the last hour watching Beastie Boy videos. MCA got little love from the Merc commentators on his passing. Shame. Watch a great like Jay Z attempt No Sleep Till Brooklyn and realize how great Adam Y. was, and is.
I subscribe to a car sharing company. Yesterday after I parked and was gathering my stuff, I did the usual reach under seat. I pulled out one of those plastic clear christmas candy cane tubes, the kind usually filled with crappy generic m&m's. Nasty candy.
So here I am, just after twilight pulling this out into what light was left. I can see there is something in it but am not sure what, cash? Weed? I pounded it into my fist a couple times and gently pulled out a gross ass pair of bloody underwear. A distinct foul smell followed.
I dropped them and the candy cane onto the ground and took a step back. Fuck. Now have to pretty much cut my hands off.
I started across the street to find someplace to scrub my funk off. I got 3 houses down when some old guy starts with "hey, ya dropped something over there". "oh, I know, I'll be right back in a sec. I didn't go back. Thanks gross pantie lady.
At first I thought you were working on a complete wardrobe ode to the best shape in geometry. But now I realize you're a walking Pendleton Trading Blanket, matching top and accessories from head to toe. Native American triangular patterns on your top? Check. Inverted metal triangles (isosceles, natch), draped around your neck and dangling from your ears? Check and Check. Triangle bedazzles on your new shoes? Check, of course... are you fucking kidding? You didn't want to be the last woman in Portland to don this look before everyone runs away from it in a few months. Nice work, ladies... you got this Boho-Indian shit wired.
Christ, I love him and he told me no. He up and told me I was family. He said he would kill for me when all I want him to do is live for himself. When I came back everywhere the world was bare, bright bone white. The death of hope drove him away, made him take his laughter and his smiles and his softness and his midnight sighs...Fuck Adele and music and clouds drifting in the sky.
Fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds, and spotted owls and all the animals that roam the earth. Fuck Marx and Mao, fuck Fidel and Che and democracy and communism. Fuck beer and pot and red ripe tomatoes. Fuck Rand and Jefferson. Fuck the revolution, Fuck freedom, fuck the whole God Forsaken thing, all i want now is for him to give me a chance, and make it harder for him to say no, so my soul can sing.
1. Walk slowly to the platform entrance, then stop right at the narrowest point. You can stare off into space, take out your phone/iPod, or just do nothing. It helps to also wear earbuds so nobody can communicate with you. The key element is: keep your back to everyone and do not let anyone get by you.
2. As the train approaches, walk directly up to the door before they open.
3. When the doors open, shove your way on as quickly as possible. Do not let anyone off the train. The doors might close before you can get on and you will be stranded on the platform until you starve or succumb to the elements.
4. Take one step inside the doors and stop. You are the only person getting on the train, and the doorway is your own private standing space.
Thank you trimet for reminding me of what it really means to keep Portland weird. The whole concept has just become so consumerist in this day and age that I'd forgotten the true spirit of weird.
First it was the tweaker couple, who sat on either side/halfway on top of a homeless man, then glared at him until he moved. As soon as he left, they began chattering away, as tweakers will do. Pretty much normal for trimet.
This is when the raver/possibly furry (I have trouble knowing where one subculture ends and the other creepy fetish begins) couple boards the bus, the female wearing a fuzzy kitty hat, and the male wearing a fuzzy dog hat. They look like warmed over bile, and it is after 5 PM. I'm thinking there was probably some E involved in their lives sometime in the last 24 hours, only they probably call it mali "Cause it's just pure MDMA without the amphetamines." Nevermind that the A stands for "amphetamine". Anyway....
As I'm sitting trapped between the tweakers and the furries, the tweaker lady turns around and starts making fun of the furries so that the entire bus can hear. She tells them their hats are probably illegal, to begin with.
I'm not sure of what the moral of the story is here. Maybe it's just that keeping Portland weird is about drug addiction, not hipster gimmicks. Maybe it's just that you shouldn't publicize your disturbing animal fetish if you wish to avoid being MOCKED BY FUCKING TWEAKERS.
you were wielding a drill gun and look like a busted version of Ricky from Trailer Park Boys. when we first came in you were pouring cheap booze into expensive booze bottles. we sat at the bar, literally 3 few feet away from you and another employee. the first fucked up shit i heard from you was disparaging remarks about “fat chicks”. i must have made a screwed up face, because you caught my eye and said “...maybe that was rude.” i would have gone with misogynistic and deeply upsetting, but, yeah, ok, “rude.” you continued running your mouth, this time describing a young female you have known since she was 6, but has recently transformed into a, “hot little piece of jailbait.” i sincerely hope the girl you are referring to reads this and stays clear of you, you creepy, horrible lech . after this last hella-fucking-inappropriate comment, another employee tells you they think there is something wrong with one of the kegs. a customer speaks up. she has a glass 2/3 full of cloudy, wrong-looking beer. she agrees - the beer is fucked, and she would like to have a fresh one. you tell her she can have "exactly as much beer is left in your glass." are you fucking serious, dude? if this were my place, first of the fuck all, a jacked up beer would have never made it to a customer, and if it did, i would apologize, give a fresh beer, apologize again, and comp them that beer.
i am thoroughly perpleaxed as to how this establishment stays in business with you there.
Shops closed yesterday
Except for cinema
I went to see a movie
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