Altarboys House Party

Dec 12 2008, somewhere in North Portland

All photos here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/spitfirehussy/sets/72157611636801968/

Classy Christmas Party

All photos here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/spitfirehussy/sets/72157611577309381/

Snowpocolypse 2K8

For those of you not in Portland (or Seattle) let me clue you in to wtf has been happening the last few days, specifically yesterday.

Blizzard conditions: the sky shitting snow with 35+ mph winds, with temperatures in the low teens feeling around zero with the wind chill. Weather which is awesome to watch from inside your (somewhat) warm house while sipping hot chocolate but is NOT at all fun (and is actually infuriating and utterly miserable) to be out in when not properly prepared.

I had to catch the bus home yesterday from Luke's house and it sucked seriously bad. Mostly because I wasn't properly dressed because I was anticipating a ride home but then had to leave before Lukey woke up. Anyway, I waited in the snow for like 20 minutes at a super crowded bus stop, coughing and snivelling and generally being pathetic, and when the bus finally came it was FULL and we all had to keep waiting. I took a picture of the bus arriving in the snow downpour and texted it to everyone with the caption: "I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life"
Truth knockin.

Anyway, the point of this entry is not to bitch about the weather because that is totally boring and everyone is already doing it.
What this entry is about is just last night, where me and Luke walked back from Bog to the house in this shitstorm. For the record, you have to either be a drunk or just a serious asshole to voluntarily go outside right now, especially just to go to the bar.

I was wearing:
Two pairs of socks under fuzzy boots, covered in plastic bags to keep them dry (do I look stupid? yes. am I warm and dry? yes. fuck you.)
Two layers of stockings, my thermal pants and leg warmers.
A slip and my skirt on top of all that. Plus a long sleeve shirt and my hoodie and a giant jacket (best coat ever, thanks Nate) and a beanie and scarf and gloves.
... no seriously.
Dramatic, yes.
BUT!!
I was totally warm and dry and stomped (drunk) home, totally stoked, in the snow piles all the way to my house. This is noteworthy because I HATE snow and would rather it just fuck off and never happen. Soooooo it was super fun and exciting.
Also I did not wake up with this bronchitis crap I've got being any worse. Yay.

The end.

Now we just need to get her a sled to pull.

Ok, so last night after we got back to the house I let Punkie out to do her business before we went to bed.

Punkie hates the snow even more than I do. Probably because she's only like 6 inches tall and has barely any fur and hates being cold. She'll generally just stand there and shake and won't do anything else when she goes outside in inclement weather. So last night I was justifiably concerned about letting her out in the middle of the blizzard.

When I brought her out there (in her sweater I made out of one of my socks) I cleared a part of the yard so she could stand there mostly on the grass and not freeze.
And what does she do?

She climbs out of the area I made her.
Into the snow.
And I'm waiting for it, waiting for her to fall into it and be buried and for me to have to run over there and save her.
But you know what happened?

The fucking dog is so small and light, she just ran across the barely-frozen snow surface and didn't even break through. Like a mosquito on the surface of a pond, or fucking Jesus walking on water. Punkie pranced right down the street on top of about 7 inches of snow on her tiny little chihuahua feet, peed in the middle of the sidewalk, then ran back to the porch, up the stairs and inside. I just stood there, crying I was laughing so fucking hard.

On that note:

Iron Bartender

Benefit for The Giving Tree
Crown Room, Portland
December 12 2008

All photos here:
http://flickr.com/photos/spitfirehussy/sets/72157611543152765/

The case for not putting nutrition labels on booze.

Big thanks to my friend Joe for totally harshing my drunk mellow.
What effect does drinking have on your waistline?


One shot of Makers Mark = 100 calories.
One PBR = 150 calories

Average saturday: 4 shots of Makers, 3 PBR
(4*100) + (3*150)= 850 calories


... no wonder I've gotten so fat. Jesus, dude.

That doesn't even factor in the "I'm drunk so I can eat whatever I want and it doesn't count" 3-AM junk food maneuver.


SO!!!

I'm going on a detox.


I'm not smoking.
I'm not drinking beer.
I'm not eating junk food.

Exceptions:
Whiskey (is not beer).
Taste-tests of all the cookies I'm making in like, two days.


My voice has been shot for over a week. I can't sing and it's pissing me off.
There are a billion calories in the booze and shit food I'm eating. It's got to stop.

So detox here I come. Let's see if I can make it till the end of the month.

*It's 8 AM. I'm drinking PBR. This is my LAST one till at least New Years, for real.

Hour 12 of studying for finals goes like this:

Me: I am so fucked. Like. Fucked. TOTALLY fucked.

Brooke: The capital of Dajah is Fucked.

Me: The standard deviation of Dajah is... Fucked.
Brooke: The magnitude of Dajah is Fucked.
Me: The instantaneous velocity of Dajah is Fucked.
Brooke: The amplitude of Dajah is Fucked.
Me: The specific gravity of Dajah is Fucked.
Brooke: The interference color of Dajah is Fucked.
Me: The acceleration of Dajah is Fucked.



Brooke: There is a polymorph of kaolinite, and it's dickite. Dick. Ite. D-I-C-K. I-T-E.

Me: You should spike that into your Mineralogy paper, just like you said it.
Brooke: I already put 'Dajah is a whore' in my paper.
Me: *looks* ... whoa, you did. Sweet.

Front Page News Muthafucka!

http://wweek.com/wwire/?p=16422

"This Is Not Going to End Well: Santacon Moving to Hillsboro"




I'm totally famous!!!
Worth noting is that they totally jacked both of Jayson's photos off my Flickr account without asking. corrected this problem as soon as I notified them.


Are you ready for this year's Santacon, people??

SANTACON!

December 6th, 2008
Saturday, 12 NOON @ Max line platform, end of line in Hillsbrro
(not Skidmore fountain this year for some reason, but whatev)

It's time.
The best day of the year, muthafuckas.




*not windex




For a visual display of what you missed last time around, please visit my flickr page from Santacon 2007 which has 345 photos with over 3,000 views.

If you are somehow NOT hip to Santacon (wtf) please direct your attention here:
http://portland.cacophony.org/



Are you ready, PDX?

For the Win

Suck it, Red States.

Re-Direct the Hate

Ok, ok, ok. In the interest of keeping all my hate and bile and piss and vinegar in ONE corner of the intarweb, please direct your attention to:

http://fucksarahpalin.org


for further updates on everyone's favorite VP trainwreck. I'm removing most of my prior posts on this blog because this is getting OOC.

Thank you!

Midterm Magic

I took my Mineralogy midterm today. Despite the fact that I studied my ass off, I still found myself hit with some seriously obnoxious curve-balls I was not expecting. So rather than leave blank spaces where correct answers should be, I utilized the space available to write short witty essays outlining why I deserve credit without actually answering the question. Such as:


"Ideally, I would know what all those numbers and letters stand for. Unfortunately, I mis-allocated my study time for this midterm by arguing with my friend over the classification of block-models for too long, so I'm at a loss here. However, I think I should get some courtesy points based on the fact that I so diligently applied myself to learning other super important facets of mineral classification. That's worth some points, definitely. Also, I think you're great. +1 point, right there. This section is now filled with text, so the defense rests. :)"


In all of my smart-ass life, it wasn't until the last year I started leaving snarky comments/paragraphs on my exams. I have no clue why I didn't start doing this waaaaaay sooner. I mean, really. If I don't know the answer, I can leave a big empty spot on the page that implies I am neither intelligent NOR creative... or I can put something funny, in which case I at LEAST get a laugh and maybe some pity points to boot.

I can't wait to get the test back. Josh will actually have gotten an A, and I'll probably just have a note that says "see me after class." Hahaha.

Pumpkin Patch & Raf's Birthday

My favorite event of the year (besides Santacon) is going to the Pumpkin Patch. Every year it's great, but this year was the best. This story comes with visual aids. Ready?


ALL 240 photos can be seen here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/spitfirehussy/sets/72157608011101306/


We all met at the Doug Fir at around 2 PM on Sunday. Myself, Raf, Erin, Beretta, Ben, Kasey, Nate and JK. The original plan was to go to the pumpkin patch on Sauvie Island, where everybody goes every year. Boooooooooooooooring. Instead it was decided that we would go to the 'patch at the Roloff farm out in Hillsboro. (From here on out, tactfully referred to as "the midget farm".)

So we all piled in the minivan that Erin had the good sense to rent for Raf's birthday BUT! before doing so, he had to open his present in the trunk. To the delight of us all, the package contained two giant sombreros and one fifth of good whiskey. Raf and Ben took the hats and all of us took care of the bottle. It was a super fun ride out to the farm, but we were a little smashed (8 people, 1 car) so as soon as we hit the traffic getting into the place, we decided to climb out.











JK and Raf picked some apples as we drove by.



While we all climbed onto the moving vehicle, poor Erin was left at the wheel trying to maneuver up the traffic-jammed dirt hill with zero visibility.



UNTIL! Nate and JK saved the day.




Then, they actually let us through the gates! (Wtf?)






We went to the petting zoo and made friends with some little animals.




Then Beretta and I finished off the last of the whiskey.




Nate initiated the Pumpkinhenge Project.









Which ended well.



(Obviously.)

Then we played catch.



Then some videographers from TLC were there filming for the show "Little People, Big World" which we of course needed to be a part of, so we all had to sign releases. It was kind of a big deal.



We went through the haunted house.



By "went through" I mean "ruined".

Then we verbally bullied and harassed JK until he did this.



Then... WE GOT KICKED OUT!!! (surprise!)



... didn't even get a pumpkin, but fuck it. Still a good trip to the midget farm!



We stopped at the next closest bar, where we took over the back yard and scared off three tables of people. Nate scavenged all their food and we downed 5 pitchers of beer.
















Nate tipped over the picnic table. We left out the back. Scene.

Then we got back into the van and headed back to Portlandia.











Then we made it back to the Doug Fir. JK immediately started some kind of riot and ended up covered in orange butter cream frosting from the cookies I made Raf for his birthday.



Then we went to Galaxy:



Then we went to Union Jacks where Ben had an amazing pilates contest with a stripper, the Portland City Grill where we got hooked up with absurd amounts of delicious food, and finally the Tube. In between which we liberated a parking sign from the ground, wrestled outside the bar, and had a stick fight on the corner of 3rd and Burnside which almost broke my thumb.

I took the bus home at 10 PM. Still... drunk.
Wreck another Sunday.
Wreck another Monday.

Happy birthday, Raf.