Recently, a Portland server ranted here about customers who linger beyond closing time. Reminder: jobs are hard to find; if you don’t like yours, let someone else take a turn. Follow your muse to back to college, become really good at video poker, ask your parents for a loan, start a business, write a hit song. Whatever. Just stop your fucking whining. Bar/store/restaurant owners should also shoulder some blame. If more owners paid fair wages, offered better comp for extra hours, treated their employees with respect and mandated good customer relations then maybe, just maybe Portland wouldn't have such a bad service rep. Service is a serious profession and most locals know it. To the mopey, spoiled, self-obsessed minority of malcontents: please quit your jobs or find a way to spare us all from your shitty, shitty attitudes.
Talk about clicking with someone - this hasn't happened in a long time for me. We start talking, texting every day. Seeing each other as often as our schedules allowed us and just as things got really amazing and a sleep over was inevitable you disappeared on me.
Not a text back. Not a call back. I don't know what the fuck happened but it gutted me.
First thought - I hope you're not lying in a ditch.
Second and more realistic - I accept if you lost interest; that's part of dating, but what a fucking douche bag to just cut off communication. Our fun and budding romance was short lived. I'm really bummed you did a 180 on me. You're 30 - just tell me you're over it.
So, the Arts Tax is a go again. Ok Portland, let me get this straight. You extort money from everyone in the county to pay hipsters with an unemployable skill-set, to teach more hipsters this unemployable skill-set. Really? REALLY?
Let me run some cray shit past you. How about a fucking SCIENCE TAX? You know, that area of education that produces computer geeks and engineers who...well...I dunno...keep IT systems that collect your precious Arts Tax payments up and running?
It's all about balance. We need students who are science-literate. We don't need more over-educated service industry workers with arts degrees. The only bitters I need in my cocktail are Angosturan, not the disenfranchised agony of some bartender/arteest [sic] who's suckling off the dole because Art Basel turned his "portfolio" down again.
Dear Portlanders Against Fluoride,
Fuck you and your junk-science bandwagon!
Once again, Portland is the weirdest place in America, and this time it's sans naked people.
Fluoride in our water making beer or coffee taste bad? Eroding teeth enamel? Poisoning our kids? Seen a dentist lately? Read a science report lately? Your arguments are laden with holes similarly gaping as those in our kids' teeth.
Maybe you self-serving neo-liberals need to watch Dr. Strangelove again because you've turned our liberal, quirky city into a hype-filled scare-tropolis that refuses to to do what is good and healthy for all of our children.
Here in Oregon, and Portland, we do a good job of maintaining our values, but just like a sales tax, support for schools from the legislature instead of bonds and levies, quiet roads, higher taxes for businesses, and those inane studded tires that destroy the roads, sometimes we need to compromise our values for what is right and will work.
We'll see you in another 30-odd years for a re-vote. Until then, don't forget to brush (with fluoride).
You wouldn't know it from Portlandia or the crazy Travel Portland YouTube videos, but PDX has lots of poverty and lots of people in poverty. They're all on 82nd and beyond the 205, areas tony Portlanders don't visit. The Pearlites and other organic-munching kinda-liberals have officially told the poor schmucks on 82nd to suck their bleached balls. Want fluoridation to prevent your Poor People Problems? Fuck no. Want pretty ponies to wander our clean Pearl streets to entertain us? Fuck yes; sign us up for $200K. It's fun to think we're progressive so long as we don't much have to think of poor, needy people so much as people who like to eat organic and wear Danskos. PDX, you disappointed today.
To the asshole in the white Subaru Impreza,
I knew you were trouble when I saw you on Naito Parkway tonight. Right by the Morrison off ramp you pulled into the far right lane to harass the homeless asleep under the bridge by slowing down and honking at them. You preceded to do it again at the Hawthorne bridge underpass. You are a fucking asshole. May your dick shrivel up and fall off!
Let the "We failed teh childrenz" or "suck it drug pushers" rants begin!
"Tall grass and weeds downgrade the appearance of our neighborhood. Please keep those places trimmed around your trees and shrubs. Also, please remove the unsightly pile of boards which have been in your driveway for months. Thank you. Let's take pride in our neighborhood."
I don't know who wrote this note (in cursive, if that matters), and slipped it under my front door at 10:30 PM last Sunday. I also don't know why that person didn't sign the note, nor why they scuttled away so quickly when I got off the couch and drew back the front curtain.
Neighbors talk. Neighborhoods, not so much. As a neighbor, I could offer you grammar and composition lessons in exchange for the use of your weed-eater, but I don't know which property to entirely scrutinize...
We 30 plus people all share only one toilet and one urinal stall. That's us and thats it. You are always in there. "pooping"? Doubtful. We hear your phone noises and heavy breathing. You like it in there. Possible club house?
When you walk into the restroom( another gross misreprensation) and decide to sit, naked ass, and poop. For wayyyyy too long, do you get a little excited beforehand? I mean, here you go! Its your time to sit naked on a circle with your rectum hovering over a pool of water. Yay! Time is now irrelevant and other people are out!
Heres the thing, anyone comes into this bathroom,the very first thing we ALL notice is your shoes, poopy.
You really, really like sitting on the toilet huh?. All naked. Just to play with your IPhone? A time out? Whatever, your pants around your ankles and your constant sniffing says otherwise Crapster McGee.
Why can't everyone just be honest with each other? I wouldn't feel like this if he had just been honest with me from the beginning. If his intention was to not hurt me then it didn't work. I'm much more hurt now finding out on my own, than if he would have just told me. Now I face a dilemna. Do I let him get away with it? Do I disappear into the background like he's hoping? Or do I tell him what's up? Would it help? Would he quit doing this to people?
To the three people who yelled "Hey, Catch!" and threw an unopened penis pump our way...my buddy and I thought it was hilarious. We were next to Sheridans so you may have come from Taboo (?) Either way it was truly a nice gesture, dear fellows. The following night, when my girlfriend came over I told her the story. She asked if I kept it and where it was. It was under the bed and we tried it out. She used it on me. I don't quite know what the fuck those things are supposed to be used for but we had the best sex we'd had in a long time. So thanks guys and gal! Keep throwing random shit at people!
I’m sorry if we rock out too hard in my apartment two floors down. My boyfriend works full time and is student teaching 5 days a week, yesterday was his first day off in three weeks. I promise you that should you come down, knock on the door and ask us to stop whatever it is that is making you so upset, we will do that while being very apologetic. Sliding note cards under my door so that I can wake up to “Seriously guys? I can hear you 2 floors up. Please be considerate.” And “You are getting beyond ridiculous. I have to finish writing my thesis by tomorrow. Thanks for nothing.” Is immature, passive- aggressive bullshit. Lets have a conversation. I don’t care if you lay the holy verbal smack down on me as long as it’s neighbor to neighbor.
I would especially like to have the conversation about yesterday, my boyfriend was home and I’m sure loud as shit from 8am-8pm and then we were out until 11pm. We may have been drunk and loud for the twenty minutes before we went to bed. I don’t feel bad for you having to listen to the thudding of music from two floors down during the daytime. You live in college housing. I’m assuming you just moved in here. You’re in for a surprise when you find out that a lot of your neighbors enjoy bumpin techno music until 2am.
I left you a note explaining this. I tapped it above the mailboxes so hopefully in the future you’ll handle the situation differently.
Don’t be a bitch.
So there I was, learning to drive when I take a wrong turn and end up on Marine drive - the stretch of Marine Drive that goes on for miles without a turn off. I'm forced to go 45 mph when I had gone no more than 20 before. I shake off my anxiety, and just go for it. I'm doing great! And then you start riding my ass. You, in that big ass, "I have a small dick so I need a big vehicle" truck. I'm barely keeping it together going the speed limit, and all you can do is ride your ass like it's a butt plug. Of course I'm going to get nervous! Of course I might start to swerve! But fuck you if you think I'm going over the fucking speed limit! Fuck you and that ugly bitch next to you. I hope she's not your wife! Because, yeah, she's got to be the most unsatisfied woman on the fucking planet!
When I finally found a place to pull off, you yelled "Idiot!" I took it as a badge of honor. You have initiated me. Now go see a doctor about your small dick, for the sake of your ugly wife.
You know that one person who, who meant everything to you? That one person who drove you to feel everything? Every day at 8:30am, on their own?
They feel so perfect because everything they say, they say everything you could only have ever dreamed of? Their selfish, convinces your feelings, that’s it’s okay, and you do it?
And then one day, they just walk away?
Over a full year later, I still do not forgive you!
I just wanted a hug. (You fucked my shit up)
Hopefully now you'll decide to stop driving a car and get a bike for so many reasons including the amazing benefit of likely not killing anymore cats. That sweet and brilliant little fuzzball changed how I feel about animals as pets, and showed me the immense love and kindness that my girlfriend had for the world and its inhabitants. It especially sucks that we have to ride past the place where she became kitten soup every time we leave our home. I hope that you're not as devastated as we are, because that would be awful. But I do hope that in some small way this motivates a change in your life because it really doesn't make sense for so many people to drive these huge vehicles around everywhere when most of the time they're just going to a mini mart, or post office or something. Get a bike and break free. Oh and by the way, if you haven't ever scooped up a splattered animal from the road with a shovel, it's a pretty emotional experience that I hope you never have to go through. She's buried at the bluffs if you'd ever like to go let her know that you're sorry.
Mini-Skirt Wearing Ladies of Portland (I'm assuming ladies of America at this point, really): CROSS YOUR LEGS!
I am sick of sitting on public transit and having your cooter shoved in my line of sight. I'm sure all the dudes on the train are checking you out because you're just so cute. Or maybe it's just your cooter hanging out.
I guess our generation wasn't taught how to sit like a lady. Google it on your smartphone, skank!
There are many, many ways to get rid of your unwanted stuff. Putting your green couch, 10 year old CPU, outdated TV on the street in the rain is the worst way. You are not doing anyone but your lazy self a favor. If it was ugly in your house, it's now ugly for a lot more people to see. They don't call them white trash for nothing.
...Where are you going to move to, then?
What part of "We'll be closing in 10 minutes" made you think starting a Scrabble game was a good idea? There is an alarming trend in Portland with people thinking it's okay to sit in a restaurant 30 minutes after close. Who does that? I bet you clock off precisely at 5 o'clock from your shitty desk job. Yes we will serve you up til last call, but seriously, that doesn't mean you're welcome to stay past close. When the bartender, chef, waitstaff and dishwasher are all sitting at the bar staring at you, waiting for their shift drink, don't you feel just a little out of place? The music is off, the lights are uncomfortably bright and we all JUST WANT TO LEAVE! This has got to stop Portland. Do we have to send up flares?!? Just pay your bill and GET THE FUCK OUT! We don't need your crappy $3 tip.
I don't see you every day, but sometimes when walking home you give me the nicest smile. It's the kind of smile you'd want to get from your grandpa. And it brightens my day every time. But I somehow never see you coming and I always catch it at the last minute and I'm afraid my return smile doesn't measure up. Sorry about that.
I could never tell you how much it brightens my day because then it would be all weird and you'd probably start walking a different way each day. So I'm putting it here, even though you probably don't read this crappy newspaper. (Though it has, admittedly, improved with the departure of Sarah Mirk.)
So thanks again for putting a smile on my face, too, often when I need it most. They say you never know about all the people in life you have in impact on. Maybe somehow, now you'll know about one. :)
It's not that the poor don't appreciate a free meal, even if it is just rescue food that is too close to expiration for the stores to actually sell it. Even having to listen to a sermon and off beat out of key musical performances of the top five modern worship tunes, incessantly isn't the worst of it. No, the most frustrating experience is to have to listen to how simple and easy it is to be saved, over and over and over, as if we never heard about that before. Most poor know the Bible better than most volunteers and wanabe preachers. The thing that really gives Christians a bad name is that they don't give any real Charity. The chapels are empty six days per week and all night every night, while the poor get harassed for sleeping on dog shit in park.
For years I've seen the way you saunter into Portland's many establishments waving your big dick credit account around thinking it grants you the key to our city like some fucking playground made JUST FOR YOU solely for the purpose of you "impressing" clients from out of town. Guess what? You're all a bunch of dicks. You've got money to spend? great! So do the rest of the people in those establishments- people who haven't made it off of the backs of sweat-shop workers, people trying to go out, have a good night, a decent meal, a good conversation.. BUT NO. No one has a good time when you bombard establishments with your shitty groups of raging dick wads so full of entitlement that you feel compelled to alienate customers and staff alike with your big fat egos. And when you don't get everything exactly how you want it, regardless of an establishment's policy, you feel the need to wave your Nike flag around like you're king shit of fuck mountain. Too bad you can't spend some of that blood money on buying yourselves some human decency or an ounce of class.
And shame on you, Portland for letting these fucks get away with it for so long.
Fuck you, Nike. Fuck you in your stupid shitty coke-rage-filled faces. Die in a fire, already.
No, this isn't the usual rant about Portland being too hipsterish or tall bikes or whatever. It's just about people being fucking dicks.
To the couple with backpacks on the bus this afternoon, that woman had some kind of disability and she just really wanted to talk to someone about Transformers. Your refusal to talk back to her makes you a fucking dick. I hope your stupid smug little traveling faces get treated with as much indifference as you showed her. Also, I can guarantee my opinion of you is much lower than yours of her.
To the idiot kid who stole from the homeless couple. You're fucking despicable. You and your friends. They're a nice couple, they're trying really hard to get off the streets. They want jobs. They want a place to live. They had $100 and you fucking took it from them. And to you swanky restaurant famous for its desserts, let the guy charge his phone. Fuck. Oh and fancy ice cream place? You have no fucking place to be complaining about people blocking the sidewalk. It's not a crime to be homeless. We got rid of one of our actual problems. They're not it.
I hope you all rot in hell on earth and when you need someone to be kind to you, or charity, people turn their backs on you like you do to them.
You know, it's that time of year again. The weather turning nice, the rain is going away, people are bringing out their shorts and flip-flops. It's also the time of year when you see more White people with locs.
Dreadlocks that is. Apparently it's socially acceptable again. I see your pasty ass at the farmer's market, walking down Division, on campus, by the waterfront...Your nasty hair dangling like cat turds from your skull.
Get it together! Your hair wasn't meant to do that and you just look nasty!
(P.S. Vikings and Germanic people didn't count because that was a Suebian knot and it was a nasty big old lump of hair hanging off your forehead.)
To the man who berated me in a PSU bathroom for not washing my hands after taking a piss: the intense level of anger you demonstrated while repeatedly shouting: “wash your Hands! that is fucking disgusting! you touched your PENIS!” caught me too off guard to do much more than laugh at you and call you a fucking nut. And while I stand by my initial assessment, I do wish I had said more.
You were right. I did touch my penis. But, thanks to the auto-flush urinals, that is all I touched. My penis is the cleanest. I wager that more germs can be found on that bathroom’s (non-automated, mind you) sink handles than on the skin o my dick (not to mention the environmental cost of the extra water, soap, dryer/towel). Public-poopers use those handles (FYI, I am not a total barbarian — I wash after shitting, or whenever the urinal has a manual flusher).
Enough about my habits — what about you, Mr. Bathroom police? Do you scrub your hands after everytime you touch your dick? If one of your sausage fingers accidentally brushes your junk while changing clothes — is it a race to the soap? Do you only allow your penis to be touched by others if there is sanitation station nearby?
If you answered “no” to the above questions, then quit holding strangers’ bathroom habits to a higher standard than you hold yourself to. If you answered “yes” to the above questions — well, I don’t know — maybe you have a filthy dick and you should go wash it. In the meantime, quit watching other people pee
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