I was in my car driving through the intersection @ 42nd and Killingsworth tonight. You and your posse decided to be a crew of those tough gang banger wannabes and disregard the signal. Slowly walking against it as I had to slam on my brakes( to avoid a possible manslaughter charges) and not hit you.
As this was all going down, I can hear the chorus of "ohhhh" from both sides of the street.
"Shit" I thought and said aloud. We all stopped, you; the punkass point in the middle of this said some trashy idle threats our way. I put on the ebrake and got out to confront you. The three of you circled me as cars honked and you threatened to kick my ass. The guy in the truck behind me walked right up to the first one of you and punched you in the face, really hard.. The rest(and you now with a broken nose) ran like the wind.
People from all sides of the intersection stepped out to clap, others called it in to the police. I waited and filled out a report, pointing out the complex you bitches scampered off too.
Your actions were like Michael Douglas in that falling down movie. Guy in the bronco, you are now my hero...
Why is the cleanliness in the kitchen controlled by the person that wants the kitchen the cleanest and the activities in the bedroom controlled by the person that wants it the least? I've heard, "Sometimes I just don't want anything up me." Men have one mood every day. When I bought a new car, I want to bang the wife, when I had pneumonia, I want to tap the lady, when my Dad got hit by a car as a pedestrian, I want to taste it. Wrecked the car? Lost a job? Thats right, lets get it on. Women reward staying single, by making it harder to get sex in marriage. The joke is: What the one food that stops women from having sex? Wedding Cake! Theres more sex outside marriage, but that's not why I'm writing, I found a fact. McCain has 6 kids, Palin has 7 kids, Mitz Romney has 5 sons. Paul Ryan? 6. W. had two, and all other overbreeders are Republicans. Leading by example, a picture is worth a thousand words but an example is worth a thousand pictures. Republicans want to reduce abortion rights, that makes more people competing with those already here. Duh. Clinton had one child, Obama, two, Carter had the one, Amy. Remember? How are we supposed to stabilize the population, get jobs, food, transportation for everybody when theres more and more people? 14-year olds are going to work in 4 years, the 18 year olds should be going to work now. 6 year-olds have 12 years for the economy to get fixed so they can get a job. The downturn is 5 years old now. Do the math. Plan the baby.
I have a favor to ask of all Portlanders - when street parking (especially when there is only room for two cars between the signs), can you please pull all the way up? Maybe it's a stupid pet peeve but it annoys the shit out of me when someone parks right in the center of what should be two spaces.
I was at a metal show last night. There was a girl (who probably has no idea who Cliff Burton was), who was thrashing her head around. Every 3 or 4 minutes, she'd stop...and fix her fucking hair. I mean, she'd actually take out her barrette and fuck with her bangs and put the barrette back in. Pretty metal, right? Here's my advice to girls who need to fix their hair while headbanging: NOBODY FUCKING CARES WHAT YOUR HAIR LOOKS LIKE. TRY NOT GIVING A SHIT. YOU'LL HAVE SO MUCH MORE FUN.
On the night of 4/20 you hit me in you car as I crossed the bike x-ing of Going and MLK. My bike few off, my body rag dolled, my girlfriend shrieked, I looked down at my shoes and noticed how shining they were (with blood), I brought my hand up to my head and felt a wet loose symbol of sorts. You sped off. The paramedics came, I saw a doctor and I limped off. I'm lucky to be alive. However, somehow during the wreck I received a perfect Swastika deeply embedded in the center of my forehead. Charles Manson, style only a little bigger. By the way, 4/20 is Adolf Hitler's birthday. Pretty fucking strange if you ask me. So, I have no ill will but just wanted to thank you for my new identity, you fucking magical Nazi or Zionist demon. You weren't even driving a Volkswagen.
You deserved to get shit-canned. Making it impossible to contact the actual rental company. Literally botching evictions and just letting the crazy tweekers stay. Renting out larger apartments and townhomes out to your family and friends, and then putting all the crackheads and poor folk on the other side of the complex. You didn't even run backround checks on the newer tenants. I saw someone breaking up crack rocks through their window just walking by.
I live in a slum. You were a slumlord and I hope they press charges for the money you "allegedly" pocketed. Because I work my ass off to pay for this shitbox until I can get out of debt and out of here. You and you're little trophy girlfriend can GTFO. And HA HA, you're even going to be banned from the property, you unprofessional thieving fuck. Guess family functions will be strained now fucker!
Dear "Butcher" at Upscale Organic Chain,
You're the most expensive store in town, generally about 10% higher than the immediate competition. And yet, when I ask for two-thirds (2/3, .67) of a pound of ground beef, you give me more than three quarters (3/4. .75) of a pound.
What the fuck? I tried to make it easier for you by not asking for "point six" pounds, which can confuse some people, but you still fuck it up. The most basic task at the meat counter, weighing ground beef.
Then when I ask you to give me less, you take off a tiny amount and try to sell me the same giant pile of meat! Now I'm annoyed, and I say, "just give me half a pound," since the concept of thirds is clearly too much for you.
So what do you do? You haul the entire sheet of butcher paper up on the scale like a punk. So not only do I have to buy less meat than I wanted, I have to also pay for the fucking GIANT PIECE OF PAPER for five bucks a pound, which means even less meat.
Then just to show your "professionalism," you do a shitty job wrapping and labeling it, which just makes life harder for the checkout girl as she has to try to scan it.
Just fuck you. I like my butchers, I treat them with respect. You're an embarrassment to the profession who can't even WEIGH GROUND BEEF properly.
I cannot believe what I hear out of the mouths of Portlanders/Oregonians. I understand people pick different words, have altered dialect/intonations, but to lose tense altogether? I saw a package in my shipping dept. labeled: "This Box Needs Shipped", so I scribbled over it, "This box needs TO BE shipped", its still here- shipped is past tense so it either needs to be shipped or has been shipped, but here it is. Then someone told me their house 'needs painted'. The house has either been painted or needs to be painted, but it cannot 'needs painted'. I've heard motorsickle, crick, car needs warshed. Cycle, creek, wash, damn. Is this what happens when libraries get underfunded? Nobody in the group that heard 'I'm orientated' even corrected the guy. Attending an orientation means you meet to be told, steered, centered. To orientate is to get that information, orientation already happened, its past tense. I'm Canadian and I may yelp out "Eh?", or be all inclusive when I say, "All ya'll" or a group of men and women I may call "You guys", but I never 'needs spoke'. If it already came out of your mouth its spoken. If you haven't said it yet, it needs to be spoken. I came here in 1989, thinking all the smarter people came West in search of the place where its not screwed up yet. Is it Medford these people needs go to? WOW, the dumbassification of America is scary.
It was rush hour. You were hoping to make that left before the light went red. Normally, I would have let you. Although, as I inched closer I could see your face and it's expression. You were soo pissy puckered up, I went for it and created a slight gridlock and preented you from going.
Why?? Your fucked up face, that's why. You looked like some down syndrome kid being punished. I needed to follow through.
You're pregnant, woo high five! You are single, don't have a job and are fuzzy on exactly who the father might be (and don't actually care)? That's awesome! You're keeping it? Of course you are, yay! You can barely take care of yourself on the best of days? Raising a child by yourself when you haven't a cent to your name is easy a fuck, no problem!
Move back to Medford with the rest of your jobless baby-making friends, that shit doesn't belong here.
Way back when I took drivers ed in NJ, for testing purposes the onramp was referred to as the "acceleration lane". It was your one chance to get up to freeway speed to merge w/ traffic. You're NOT supposed to go down this lane while pumping your breaks every 2 seconds at 39 mph. You will cause a FUCKING ACCIDENT. I fantasize about having a cow catcher on the front of my rig so that I can ram the back of your shit sled at mach speed and watch it explode into a thousand pieces all over the onramp Road Warrior style. Learn to merge you fucking cock puppet - or stay home.
You have very nice boobs. You occasionally show this off to us randy dudes and ladies. I mean, really nice boobs. Mint condition. Show room shape.
Now, when you decide its the day to show 'em off, why do you wear something on the outer part of your body? Oh, that's right. You wore that to cover those the minute one of us decides to get a gander.
It's a dumb game. End it.
But it was a miraculous evening, and I will never forget my birthday that recently just passed. You see, I had the whole evening planned out. Laughter, drinks, you at work at the Boom Boom Room. Walking into your place of work was an experience in itself to say the least. The first thing I noticed was how much anxiety consumed my body, when I drunkenly realized height ratio between me and the bartender. I might have even winked at you, for our exact mental “be careful” facial expression exchange. My efforts not to fall went untouched the moment I told my buddy to excuse himself, because I needed “alone time” with the four of you on the back patio. All four of you were so beautiful in your work outfits. During our alone time I realized I had no cash on me. As I went to start my drunken journey to the atm, is when it happened (and quickly). I remember looking down at you stating I’ll be right back. I noticed while you were sitting on the ground that, if I step over you I may step on you. I think you noticed the same actually because I went to short step in between your legs, and that’s when you moved, and I went down like a timbering Redwood. You know the scene in the movie “My Best Friends girl” when Dane falls in the park, and he looks up at Kate with her face glistening in front of the sun? that’s exactly how I felt as you and your sparkling cleavage reached down to save me. I hope you won the contest that night, because you and your fancy clapping shoes deserved it!
How long is it going to take for more than just me to realize there are too many people here? I'm just sayin', somebody has to help explain the thinking that every ejaculation is supposed to be born, make a living here, eat, drink and drive a car for the entire 80 years you're on the planet. Can't we learn from China, Philippines, India, very crowded countries that its impossible to breed yourself into prosperity? An American familys' chances of economic stability is negatively affected exponentially by each new child. I told my one only daughter that she has no brothers and sisters because, to make THAT idea work, I'd have to have two boys and two girls so everybody could have a brother and a sister. I hear all the time from environmentalists, I'm obviously one- that they want to save the world and put up wind turbines and buy a LEAF. Ask them how many kids and they say, "Oh, I have 5 children" WTF? My kid gets 200% parenting from two parents. If theres two kids- 100% parenting each and three kids takes it down to 66% parent per child. See? 315 million here in America. We did better in the 70's or 80's with 200 million, who thinks the extra people helps anything? We have 30 million unemployed, theres been that many abortions since Row v. Wade, what if all those extra people were here? How many poor people does that make? Utah leads the way in bankruptcies and multi-child families. Big families get excoriated when the economy burps. Get ready, its getting worse.
"Hey, this is Jewel Lane, ya?"
Jewel Lane? No, it's NW 23rd. The cab driver's thick Russian accent was hard to understand. I had him repeat himself twice more before I realized he was saying, "Jew Lane." Seriously? In a bit of shock and not seeking a potential in-cab conflict I just said, "I don't know."
Unfortunately, this isn't the first time this kind of ignorance has flashed its nasty junk in my face.
No, wait a second, Portland...
That's right, honey. Don't spill your nonfat, organic, free-trade latte. You heard me.
Fuck you and fuck "Keep Portland Weird." I propose that it should now and forever read, "Keep Portland Accountable."
Your festering wound of intolerance, social injustice, poverty and ignorance can no longer be covered by a bandage of sustainably-harvested denial. Your rotten flesh is beginning to stink.
So, I've got some advice, Portland. Be careful not to drop your Lumineers-loaded iPod on your way to work or you'll notice that your bike lanes and rose-lined sidewalks are covered in piss and that all along you've been riding piggy-back on the shoulders of racists and thieves.
No one wants to get their neon Nikes dirty, now do they?
We know whose been calling the cops on the street kids selling jewelry. It's you. You came and set up in a neighborhood that attracts panhandlers/street roots sellers and canvassers. In fact not only did you set up, you also ripped the lease out from under 3 established businesses so you could get the coveted spot.
These two kids are working their asses off. One of them was so fucking excited he's getting work. She sells the jewelry as a matter of pride. She's working as best she can.
So because you can't call the cops for someone hanging out on public sidewalks, you bust a girl who is well within the law. You call the cops on her over and over again because god forbid she makes some money off your customers. Way to go dickholes.
Because you know what? That's a good spot. It's always crowded (because of your business and the one next to it) and you won't be able to get rid of people trying to make money there.
In fact, you're going to get the local abusive drunk now. Those kids were the only thing keeping him away. They could tell him to fuck off and he would. So good job. Because you're small minded and petty, you've screwed yourselves for the rest of the summer.
Hey. You. The attractive, smart, funny one who hangs out on the internet. Do you have a profile on OKC? You do? Okay, sit down for a sec. Let's have a chat.
I know. Dating is supposed to be fun, but somehow...it's not always. It's time-consuming. It takes emotional energy. You feel guilty not liking the people who like you and often personally rejected by the people who aren't right. I get it. And the pure amount of rejection any one person might experience in this process, no matter how attractive, well-adjusted, and great you are— well, it makes you question things you thought were true about yourself. Which is maybe good for us, but certainly isn't easy.
I have a request that might make this better for everyone. Can we approach every date we go on with a little bit more compassion and kindness? A recognition that every person we go out with is dynamic, has feelings, and is human? Inevitably, we're going to judge that person. We're going to quickly assess if they fit into all of the little checkboxes we've made for ourselves while creating an online persona that represents what we think we deserve in whatever we're looking for. It's hard enough to be judged—must we be entirely self-serving? Never responding to a person? Ignoring them for days, sometimes weeks, sometimes forever? Making fun of them to friends for any misstep? That's all shitty. Can we just...have good manners a little more often? Be a little bit kinder and more compassionate?
I know it's awkward not knowing what to say & all that, but having cancer can be enough of a bitch without all of my friends disappearing at once, leaving my bald & cancerous ass in bed alone while imagining all of the parties & shows & life that everyone is having without me.
Here's an idea for those of you with sick friends- text them, call them, visit them. Ask if you can bring anything or if they need anything. Do they need help with groceries & errands? Are they getting enough to eat & drink? Do they need company or to be left alone? Are they by themselves most of the time? If so, is it by choice? Want to watch a DVD together? Need more pain meds? Can I stop by & tidy your place for you since you probably can't do it yourself? Are your pets ok? Got anyone walking your dog for you? Are you scared of dying & do you need to talk to anyone about it? Need to feel like anyone cares if you do die or not?
I have a very busy friend who texts me once a week to let me know she hasn't forgotten me & to ask how I am. That she does that means more to me than anything.
Don't disappear. It makes us sick people feel the world has forgotten us. A little attention makes an enormous difference.
You were behind me at the Prince late show. You were wasted, loud and fucking retarded. I turned around and told you I would really prefer to hear that man on stage instead of you. You were not nice, and proceeded to talk about how everyone around you sucked and was the death of rock and roll, all the while Prince was blowing people's minds. I ended up giving you a glass of water since hydrating might lessen your hangover. You know what you'll never recover from? A legend performing his ass off for true devoted fans who will always remember it. You'll just remember how cool you were for ruining other people's nights. Good for you. Kill yourself .
Thank you, Portland. Not only have you made the past year amazingly awesome, now I can tell all my friends and family back in BFE, NV how safe it is here too. Although I was a wee bit irritated that I couldn't find a decent parking spot by the Doug Fir (shocking, I know) I returned to my car five hours later and was filled with gratitude and relief.
You see, I have very dark tinted windows. It's a lot sunnier southeast of these parts and I haven't had the time or cash to change them since I moved here just a year ago. While trying to park, I rolled down one of the back windows to see how far I was from the curb. I promptly forgot to roll it back up and left my 2010 Camry and all it's belongings free for the taking...including a butt ton of booze in the backseat that had been recently procured at a going-out-of-business liquor store.
My shaky faith in humanity is not completely restored, but I feel a little bit better knowing there are still good people out there.
So far the city has collected about 20% of the projected total of the Arts Tax. You'd think with almost 60% of citizens voting yes for this the money would be overflowing at City Hall, but nope.
I like how the "typical" Portland citizen gets all excited over any tax scheme like this on the ballot (feel good for the children type bullshit) but when it comes time to pass the hat for the keg, they've conveniently slipped off to the bathroom.
I've heard a lot of grumblings about how it's regressive and this-and-that. Christ, cut down on your cigarette intake and buy a few less PBRs and you've covered the entire tax cost. I know, it's hard, it means making a first-world sacrifice.
Just something I've noticed about the so called progressive denizens of Portland and Oregon. Same thing happened when it came to increasing beer taxes a few years back. "No way man, I drink beer this is bullshit!" People whined and moaned, and then decided it was easier to make rich people pay all of the taxes around here.
It's all good with someone else paying the taxes. I'm not even rich and would hardly consider myself conservative in today's use of the word, but a decent portion of the progressive-until-it-impacts-them types running around might as well be nothing more than the Tea Party. At least grasp the bigger picture: someone's got to pay for the stuff we're spending money on, you could at least contribute.
Fuckin' cheap skate hypocrites. Pay up assholes, you voted for it.
I was still on the other side of the parking lot when you reached the door of the convenience store. Observing my close-to-imminent approach, you decided that instead of just going in, you would stand outside of the store and stare at me until I'd crossed the lot so that you could hold the door open as I entered.
Now, I get that you're trying to be polite. I really do. But the thing is, that was really fucking awkward for me. It was made more award by the fact that you not only held the door, but stuck with the "ladies first" rule, which required that you stand outside of the door, holding it open while blocking it with your body.
For the record, this is not helpful. I have never encountered an unlocked door that I was not capable of opening for myself. The nice thing about opening doors for yourself, is that you can then fit through the doorway without awkwardly squeezing by someone with outdated notions of gender roles. Anyway, I'm not going to go off on how insulting it is that men think I can't open a damned door for myself, but I thought I'd put this out there for other misguided males: Chivalry only serves to make you feel more masculine/get closer to women. You're doing it for yourself — not us.
It was a day when the stubborn clouds of winter had faded, and the Earth’s patient star was able to warm the planets surface. I had brought a book to Laurelhurst Park and read it while sitting on a bench drenched with the white light of the spring sun. I decided to take to my feet around when teenaged lovers took to exchanging their saliva’s within an uncomfortable distance to my biblo-induced solitude. Ripped from a factious mental state, the sunny stroll led my thoughts down a familiar path laced with melancholy. The overwhelming emotional complexity of the human brain was causing a lump to grow in my throat. I felt like an unsightly lone soul walking on the harsh surface of a distant unknown planet. I was unexpectedly brought back to the lamblike spring day by a fellow parkgoer who had said, "you're beautiful", as I walked past. I would like to thank you fellow parkgoer, your simple gesture was a bridge over troubling waters.
I'm a 25-year-old Portland native. I've been using a manual wheelchair since I was 7. I'm lucky enough to be part of a radical queer community where I'm surrounded by body-positive and intelligent people who understand my independence and don't patronize me for being four feet tall. But the rest of the city and world have a lot to learn about ableism. A staggering number of adults I come across on a daily basis treat me in an embarrassingly condescending manner, disguised as a well-meaning gesture. Don't you see how offensive it is to treat me differently just because of your own perceptions of what you assume I can't do? I'm tired of feeling pressured to speed-shop in order to avoid uncomfortable stares at New Seasons while I reach for trail mix in the bulk isle. I'm tired of strangers asking if I need help crossing the street. Do you think I've just been waiting there quietly, hoping someone would come along and ask if I need help? And you know what is worse? When you call out to me, "you're doing great!" Or, "look at you go!" I don't need that shit, man, because guess what, I'm just living with what I've got. It's no bigs. I don't need your awkward, empty validation. Pull your head out of your own privileged ass. Show me enough respect to let me come to you. Trust that I can take care of myself, and don't assume that able-bodied people are the only ones capable of leading independent lives. Cause you look like a real jackass.
I've had some bad landlords, back in college. But no landlord was ever as bad as you. You've had more tenantroommmates in the last four years than herpes sores between your legs (which is a lot, I might add), and you screwed over your ex-tenants one too many times. You were so mad at one of your tenants (who you had a crush on) for banging one of our other roommates, you evicted both of them. Even though I was nice to you, you fucked me over too. You are a bully who will be dealt with accordingly within the law. Not only am I going to sue your ass, but I am going to get you arrested for fraud and tax cheating. I have the paper work and I am going to make sure that you get charged with fraud before I sue your ass. You've bullied a lot of people during the time I've known you. Then you tried to bully me. That was your biggest mistake of your lifetime. I promise you this, you will be someone's tenant very soon. Cheers!
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