Life of Riley is something of a neighborhood anomaly, and if you're bored, a fun game is to guess what the patrons' stories are. It's easy to read the pretty woman in her mid-40s and puffy Patagonia jacket upstairs as someone from the crunchier end of the Pearl District social spectrum (maybe she works at Ecotrust), but the younger, rowdier downstairs scene—all loud music, billiards, and shuffleboard—is harder to read. They're not arty enough to be PNCA students, and too old to live with their parents (right???). I like to think they're perpetually visiting their uncles in the West Hills, coming down to slum it with Riley's unpretentious drinks and atmosphere (um hello, they have pigs in a blanket on the menu... +1). MARJORIE SKINNER