I'm flummoxed. I keep hearing from infuriated women friends that Portland guys don't ask them out directly. Yet when I ask women out directly, it freaks them out. They're taken aback, faced with having to give an actual answer. This could be true for other genders; I'm just relating a straight man's perspective.
For the record I'm usually clothed and bathed when I ask. I don't do it over a megaphone or in places that might put them on the spot (Blazers game, public square, confessional booth). When using online dating, I'm asking through email, so it's as low-key as possible.
I guess this could be summed as "dating sucks," but I'm curious if I missed something along the way—is there a new way of asking someone out that leads to actual human connections? Do tell.
So I see that Matt Bors' comic (a comic I usually enjoy) in the back of the new Mercury tackles that sorry excuse for something to be indignant about this time of year: the fact that those oh-so-mistreated Walmart, et al. employees have to work on Thanksgiving.
As if those employees didn't choose to work there. As if those employees can't quit if they don't like their schedule. And where are all the sad songs about the plight of the gas station attendants having to work? Or the cops? Or the button-pushers at the TV and radio stations? Or the employees of Thai restaurants? Or the camera dudes that have to cover the games you get boners for?
I get that the shopping spree on Thanksgiving/Black Friday is utter madness (not to mention, embarrassing), and the last job I would want to have on days like those is a retail one. But how about blaming all of the customers instead? How can you blame the suits at these big companies for simply supplying the demand that they created by playing us all like a fiddle?
Cry about slavery. Cry about rape. Cry about people getting maimed and/or killed by inattentive drivers. But don't cry about people having to do what they voluntarily signed up for. Waaahhhhh, fucking waaahhhhh.
You dudes (and some of you ladies), there's really no need to tie up a small chunk of your hair. It isn't long enough to be efficient and it looks dumb as fuck.
It would make sense if it was longer hair and you were going into battle or something but its not and you aren't.
While I'm at it, you goddamn ass wipers and your multi tiered rubber banded beards. If you have to tie it up so much and attend to it, fucking just cut it off or let it flow.
Hey. That Guy. Cyclist who blows through stop signs. Man loudly talking on the phone on the bus. Ladies narrating the movie in the back of the cinema. Guy pushing through the crowd at the concert. Person who honks their horn at every available opportunity. Rude barista. Non tippers. Aggressive canvassers.
WHY ARE YOU THAT GUY? You know people hate what you do. Everyone complains about you all the fucking time. But you do it anyway. I can't, for the fucking life of me figure out why. Do you not realize you're That Guy? Or do you have some secret rage against the standards that create That Guy? Do you just not care about being That Guy?
That's the thing that bothers me the most is just why. Why are you doing these things? Why are you that guy? TELL ME.
Could you make up your fucking mind? I sat in my car at 57th and burnside while you hogged that machine for 1/2 an hour. I went into 7-11 twice (once to complain, second to buy a malt liquor while i waited.)You are a lame date who seems like a hooker. Go fuck yourself.
There are some of you who are snotty. There are also some who are wishy-washy. Which category do you fall into? If the question overwhelms you, I suggest you check "both". I am annoyed by the impulsive and sometimes deluded manifestations of rebelliousness against an inherited civilization of which you tuft-hunters do not have the slightest understanding. Even if i shout obscenities at passers-by, the result can be a tone-deafness, a cluelessness, on matters that are at the center of experience for vast segments of you population. Although I agree with your type that we should avoid personal responsibility I cannot agree with the subject matter and attitude that is woven into every one of your hat choices and culinary migrations.
I yearn for the day the weeds sprout again on Glisan and the once respectful working man's enclaves serve Budweiser and pickled eggs. You will move on and I will still be here when you are gone.
Train Track Charlie.
Don't know where you thought up the idea to go mock poor people but this takes the cake. Maybe you were sitting on your massive terrace overlooking the river in your 10 000 megawatt palace and decided it was time to give back. A little. I'd like to think so and it wasn't some strange hijinks to float your boat. I understand being old and super loaded is boring. Does a couple of hours of Salvation Army hat wearing at the fred meyer make up for that? What is going through your mind when you see people that look like they cant afford it giving money to others even less unfortunate? Is that funny?
If it isn't funny then why were you laughing and why did you have your wife take pictures?
Portland. You passive aggressive douchebags need to just start saying no to things. If someone sends you an invite on FB it's because they browsed through a gazillion people to find you and invite you to something. Just say no! Even if you don't like the person! Say no! Don't just leave it flapping in the fucking breeze.
And you know what? This isn't about a thing where people just ignore invites or whatever. It also includes professional services. If you're not interested in something or don't have room for a patient or just don't want to take their fucking insurance, just say no! I promise, you fucking idiots, it isn't that hard to say "I don't really want to go" or "I have other plans" or "I don't like your case/insurance/face so I won't give you a service/job."
I don't know what the fuck made this city so cowardly but nut the fuck up and be grown ups. Learn to say no.
Fuck your fancy potluck. Fuck your from-scratch fascism. Fuck your asshole friends. Fuck your dutch oven. Fuck your offer to help me make my own salad dressing next time. Fuck your condescension. Fuck your perfectly mis-matched vintage plates. Fuck you for making socializing a god-damn cooking competition.
Now you might think that life is a Ben and Jerry's cartoon but i really dont appreciate you sticking your noodle in my ice cream. Thats not pasta and you are not Oscar Meier. In fact if i had teeth that would be one less hot dog making the rounds of the eighty year old birth canals down at the rest home where you "work". Yeah i know of at least two that you messed with on your lunch hour. Its not funny man. And neither was you messing up my Ice cream. Even if we were drunk. Which also wont happen again. One less kerosene cohort for you.
You came into my work with 100 or so of your friends from the army. You came so you could eat cheap nachos, drink beer, and scream about almost-goals. In the kitchen I heard the cheers getting louder and louder and thought the game must have been going well. I came out with my arms full of plates of food for your hungry mates. As I walked past you the whole place erupted with applause. You frantically waved your scarf in the air, slapping me directly in the face with it. You offered no apology, chuckled a little, and continued to applaud. On my way back to the kitchen I glanced at the TV and saw that the score was 0-0. I got bitch slapped by your fucking scarf so you could celebrate a fucking tie. So tonight, while you and your scarf wearing army cried into your cups at Jeld-Wen, I poured my self a beer and smiled at the thought of your title hopes crashing down like a freshly felled tree.
As holiday consumerism kicks into high gear, something needs to be cleared up for those who will be parking at any point in time. "Loading Zone" doesn't mean "Disregard this sign: Park anywhere you want." It also doesn't translate to "I am just running in for a coffee/ sandwich/ small grocery list" (Looking at you, NE 15th & Broadway). Have you made the connection why an item is out of stock or your food/ drink thing isn't available? It's because your dumb ass is parked in the loading zone while the delivery driver has to circle the block looking for an open spot, and end up missing the receiving deadline. Kudos to the drivers who just park in the middle of the street blocking an entire lane of traffic. That's due to your dumb ass parked in the loading zone, too. "I'll just be 5 minutes" isn't a valid reason for illegal parking. You are the reason why parking enforcement is on speed dial. You are the reason a semi is blocking in five cars. Be aware of your surroundings. Learn to read a fucking sign, I know you fools can read. If you are illiterate, well, you won't be reading this anyway, so fuck you, and stop illegally parking in the loading zones!
So here I am with my significant other enjoying a rather quiet Sunday night at Belmont Station. I just biked 12 miles to get there but that's not very relevant. We'll just assume I'm cold and tired. I see you there, all drunk as fuck with your two six and seven year-old children; ages assumed. The place just went from cozy and intimate to some sort of over-the-top Gresham Applebees, clusterfuck in no time flat. Your children are laying on the floor screaming as you tickle them while every conversation in the room comes to a screeching halt in response to the spectacle. The bartender comes around to your table to politely inform you that you are indeed in public and shit like that is all manner of inappropriate. You say something like "Well fuck, I guess we should just leave, then". Pretty much everyone in the room audibly agrees with you, in no uncertain terms. I seriously have never seen so many people forgoing the textbook Portland passive/aggressive and just call it like it is. You and your children were completely out of hand and the place was measurably better when you finally decided to leave.
Guns? Absence of religion? Lack of self esteem? Poor parenting? The entertainment industry? Who's to blame for your dirty warnings? Numerous professionals (and not-so-professionals) have speculated and mulled, publicly and privately, over what has caused you to destroy our moral fiber. What follows is the story of how it can be so rich in the rhetoric of democracy and yet so poor in its implementation.It has been revealed your plans to exploit the feelings of charity and guilt that many people have over the plight of the homeless. First reaction yields that it wallows in its basest behavimomor. A little more thought leads to the more accurate conclusion that hor pompously claims that it has mystical powers of divination and prophecy. That sort of nonsense impresses many people, unfortunately. Many the things I've talked about in this letter are obvious. We all know they're true. But still it's necessary for us to say them, because your ignorant attempts to debunk myths often lead to the perpetuation of them.
Well it's that time again. Time to bring your entire fuckfaced family on down to biggest cluster fuck in the city; the local grocery. Hell, bring the dog too, there's room.
Make sure you inspect every goddamn egg in every goddamn carton and if you see someone stocking some shelves nearby bring your whole fucking family over to his/her area to stand in their way and ponder.
Also, don't forget to bring some know-it-all-Naomi or Toby type up from LA to tell some random worker what they should carry as their dietary restrictions call for it (and its totes 'nummy).
And lastly, certainly don't let the person behind you go ahead with their 3 items, you are entitled to make them wait.
You pick me up at around 8:30 AM at 12th & Sandy, right after my appointment each Friday. Today after exiting the bus I realized that I won't be having those appointments anymore, and will likely never see you again.
This is a damn shame, because you have to be the nicest person in the world, and I wish I'd thought to tell you that this morning. You're Gandhi-level nice. You smile at everyone and welcome them aboard, then tell us all to have good days when we leave. You stop and wait for people who would otherwise miss the bus, and nobody resents the hold-up because you're too thoughtful to resent. You smile the entire time you're driving, and it's a beautiful, genuine smile. I don't know how you can have such a positive attitude with your job (driving and other humans are two things that seriously stress me out), but it improves my day every time I see you, and I actually look forward to catching the bus each Friday because of you.
I doubt you'll ever read this, but I hope you know how amazing and beautiful you are. You inspire me to be a kinder person.
Today before you disembarked I had this to say:
A idea that was once brilliant, which aimed to unite Europe and allow it to stand up to the rest of the world through economic and political cooperation. In pratice an huge ineffective machine where nobody can agree with anyone. Moreover most of the european population either doesn't care or doesn't like it. But by the way the EU political system makes about 50% of the laws of the countries in the union. The whole european political structure is governed by the "european commission" which is not even elected: what a great lesson of european democracy. Lets look at our problems before we laugh at the US elections. Please!
Party was rad, right? Between the beer and the pot, the nights a blur. But that was three months ago, and your fucking bike is still locked up in front of my house. Like, totally in the way. I asked all my friends and neighbors, but nobody knows your ride. I get that all the houses look the same. And, I get that you locked it up behind a tall bush, where it's hard to spot from the street. But, I'm tired of walking around it. So, I cut the lock.
Hey Portland drivers:
I have no real issue with parallel parkers backing up and will gladly wait for you until the traffic lane is clear, but that patience is limited and you need to make your parking effort count.
When you are such a pathetic and unskilled vehicle operator that your first attempt leaves your car at a 45 degree angle with your back wheel on the curb and over half a car length to the next parked car, you basically take a shit on orderly society if you make any sort of move to renter the traffic lane(s) while other vehicles are present.
Do right thing and hang your head in shame and wait until the coast is clear so you can do the 10 point turn parallel parking maneuver which seems par for the course around this town. Better yet, admit your failure and find a surface lot or, if your botched parking attempt was to enable you to visit a hip eatery, go head out to the nearest Burgerville. Their drive throughs are one way and I think even you lot of uncoordinated clods could navigate them.
Jesus Christ, are you a toddler? Your nose is running and you're just sitting there snuffling every two seconds, sucking up your gross snot like there aren't 10 people around you trying to work. It's goddamn barbaric. You look like you're about 40, how did you get to this age without your mother or your girlfriend or a friend telling you to blow your nose when it's running? Isn't it annoying you too? Go into the bathroom and blow your nose, it takes two seconds. Or take some cold medicine. Or better yet, stay home when you're sick. Asshole.
So this fat ass so-called friend who ate cheeseburgers and drank beer like there was no tomorrow all of his life has all of a sudden declared himself "gluten free". What a farce!! Not too long ago nobody on the planet knew what the hell "gluten free" was and know half the freakin' population seems to need it. Gluten free is total bullshit pushed by greedy doctors and needy assholes who want attention for their so-called "disease". It's all a scam and we all know it. Gluten free is BS and all those jerks who are pushing it are full of BS too!!
Ogling that iphone sale? Thinking of getting a screaming hot deal on that thingamajigger at some big box store? Please pause for a moment before you venture forth into the shopping frenzy and ask yourself the following questions.
1. Do I need any of this crap?
2. Would I want to work Midnight to Midnight the day after Thanksgiving (or in some cases, Thanksgiving day)?
3. Am I going to throw a fit if I don't get a door buster gift even if I camp out all night?
4. Do I care about the sanity and safety of those around me?
4. Do I REALLY need any of this crap?
If you answered yes or no to any the above questions, stay the fuck home on Black Friday.
Just a friendly PSA from yet another weary, underpaid, overqualified retail slave for the holiday season.
Yeah, i was drunk walking home from closing the bar,and yeah i wanted another drink.So when i saw you guys openly drinking from a 12 pack of Pabst in the 7-11 parking lot with yr tough leather jackets,i thought,hey, maybe i can bum a traveler for the way home,these guys don;t look like they give fuck.but i decided nah fuck it,it ain't worth the trouble.Then one of you tough hardcore Pabst drinkin' tards had to pull the come at me bro card...from across the street?yelling YOU GOT BEEF?...stunned,i really couldn't believe what i had just heard.First who pops shit from across the street.2nd,who say's "you got beef".nice flipped brim you got there tough guy.Buncha West Coast pussy's hangin' tough.bet them beer muscles were flowin' hard there huh?
Ok homies I know we work in the firewood delivery business so I don't expect no HR to jump in and help out on this but just because my last name is a famous sex act doesn't mean it's the joke of the day every day. You clowns just aren't all that funny.
And what's more i see here on the internet they dont even call it me anymore. Th dictionaery says its called a Screech. There is proof you two putas need to just shut up tomorrow.
Listen mr PSU professor of Cultural Sciences if you insist on a summation of the 80's based on 80's music please understand what it is first:
80's music consisted mostly of whiny guitars, semi-human(as in: never too masculine) voices and better lyrics in general than most/all of the hip-hop/pop songs that you will find on the radio today. Chances are, if the music sounds like a cross between innocently thundering guitars and lukewarm/strong drugs, it's 80's music. If there's a music video involving a singer with a spectacular vocal range and hair combed halfway up to the ceiling dancing on a stage with horrid patterns on his skin-tight outfit, it's 80's music. If you're too young understand the political references in the lyrics or just old enough to remember what they were about, it's 80's music. If a man wearing an 'I love the 80's!' t-shirt suddenly looks up at the supermarket and names a Duran Duran song to the nearest person, it's 80's music. If you go to amazon or e-bay and type '80's music' into the search field, it's 80's music. No, really, it's true.
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