February 29, 2012

Riot Horse

I love horses. Even though I know city horses are pissed and bored, and in the case of police horses, working, I still want to walk up and pet them and you know, run my fingers through their manes. When I was in second and third grade, I stayed after school for a program called CARE. My brother and I would hang out there for a couple hours until one of our parents picked us up. CARE was managed by this lovely hippie lady who read cool books to us and let us hang out and do whatever. At one point, my friends and I played "Jack the Ripper", which involved one person being Jack and the others wandering around the playground unwittingly until they were killed. They were then led by Jack to the jungle gym dome thing and forced inside, where they had to stay because they were dead and in a strange fog-filled purgatory. We loved this game. The odd thing about this game is that I distinctly remember overhearing a man (there was a man observing us on the playground. This is probably a red flag and he may have a Jack the Ripper type, but we are still alive today) say, "Jesus, nice game." He found our game disturbing. I find the fact that there was an adult man on the playground disturbing.

But anyway, the thing that proves I have always loved horses was that during my time in CARE I perfected an accurate imitation of the gallop on my hands and knees. This was not just running on my hands and knees. This was galloping. This skill was developed through watching a lot of horse movies, acting like a horse on a regular basis, and generally being obsessed with horses from a young age. It was uncanny. It was faster than any other method of running on hands and knees, and we regularly put mats out across the gym floor and had horse races. I always won. Always. Because, the gallop.

But anyway, this afternoon Kyle ran into my office to tell me there were horses outside. And there were. Apparently there's an Occupy thing going on down the way (which explains the giant puppet capitalist pig head thing we saw earlier) and the riot police and their riot horses are out. Look at the riot horse gear. So cute. I had to fight the urge to run out there and pet the horses in their riot gear.

That's all.

February 24, 2012

DFP (double fist pump)

Florence + The Machine tickets are mine. I have to tell you, it was like watching someone you love run through a minefield or performing open heart surgery using blunt instruments. My nerves are shot. I was refreshing my browser, pushing buttons, mistakenly typing the wrong letters in that stupid code thing (for the love of god, why are they always so illegible?), and then waiting, waiting, and waiting until they finally came through. Liz got some too. We were on the gchat together, keeping each other updated on progress and hyping each other up. I'm not sure I would have made it to the other side if it wasn't for her. Going through stuff like that, it really changes you. 

Anyway, happy Friday! 

Here are some links to make your weekend that much better (if all you're doing is sitting around looking at stuff on the internet). 

Robyn in GIF form. Prepare to be mesmerized. If you're not careful, this could be your Friday night. 

This annoying article about living alone. Like people who live with other people don't do weird things. And since when is it totally quirky and only okay for single people to sing in the shower, do random home aerobics, or eat random things like a sweet potato for dinner? Please. 

A dog on things. I want a dog. 

And in that same ilk, Kim Jong-Il looking at things. I don't think I want a Kim, but the more that I look at this, maybe I do . . . . 

February 22, 2012

Ask and you shall receive

Sam made this bench for me and my shoes. Wow, right? Now I need to make sure that I don't cover it with superfluous clothing and detritus of life, so I can continue to appreciate all that recycled wood glory. 

February 21, 2012

Taking a Break

I'm never one to turn down much of anything. Cake. Fried food. Ribs. A glass of wine. I mean, life is pretty short and I like all those things. But lately, with winter and the general doldrums that entails, I've been on this cleansing kick. It's not a Cleanse. I don't do stuff like that and I think it's completely illogical to assume your body will somehow function better when trying to subsist on nettle tea or lemon juice or whatever. My "cleanse" will be brief and vague (I mean, birthday cake doesn't count because it's birthday cake), but I think it's good to do this kind of thing once in a while, even for a short amount of time. At the moment, I am abstaining from two things:

1. Sugar

But only kind of. The thing about sugar is that it's in everything. I'm not abstaining from fruit, or refusing to eat whole wheat bread with tiny amounts of whatever in it. But I am passing on desserts of any sort. It's hard. I love sweets. I have always been obsessed with sugar.

When I was young, probably about 10, I was visiting my mom at her work. She works at a hospital. She gave me a dollar so that I could go get a drink from the soda machine. I took that dollar and went to the soda machine, but then, once I was there, I noticed I was standing next to the candy machine (this story is horrible). Unable to control my urge for candy, I spent that dollar on a king-size Three Musketeers (not even the best of the candy bars!) which I took to the bathroom (so many germs!), hid in the handicapped stall (you know, just in case a nurse tried to stop me or something), and ate the entire thing. My memory is not completely clear, but I am pretty sure I told her the machine ate my dollar or some other depraved lie, and then was probably given another dollar to get something to drink. I totally got away with this. I'm not saying I was the worse behaved child in the world, but I would say I was average-to-poor at times.

So anyway. I'm giving up sweets for a while. I do this on occasion so that my body does not get so addicted to sugar that I wake up craving a bowl of ice cream first thing in the morning. Because that has been known to happen. This is called Resetting my Sugar Levels. It's science.

2. Alcohol

I feel like this is pretty self-explanatory. I don't have any funny stories about my 10-year-old self and alcohol.

What about you? Do you ever take a break from certain vices? Do you believe in Cleanses? Tell me all about your colon in the comments.

P.S. When I'm done with this mini-break from vice, I'm really excited to check this out.

February 16, 2012

The best compliment (almost ever)

Look at this. Saturday night at Choptsticks will live forever on the internets (thanks Keighty). And by the way, it was Kyle's first time back since his now infamous engagement party and I'm happy to report that he left unscathed. He even ran into the guy who was holding his hand in this picture. Hilarious.

February 14, 2012

Happy Valentine's Day

In keeping with my new leaf of being a total cat freak, here you go. Cats. Hearts. Love. 

How do you feel about Valentine's Day? I've been seeing the usual backlash on Facebook (corporate manipulation, etc.) but to be honest, there's this part of me that is at peace with this holiday. I mean, the nostalgia factor is huge. I remember constructing an elaborate Valentine holder, the painstaking addressing of all those cards (I actually drew all of mine by hand and chose the recipients based on my fondness for them, so you know, best friend gets the awesome horse drawing, kid that smells bad and always wears sweatpants gets the slightly failed version of a moose in love), and the fact that candy was often involved. It was a good day. But then I got older and full of hate and was single for years and years and years and Valentine's Day became this annoying holiday that I usually celebrated with blush wine in a jug.

And now it's somewhere in the middle. It seems funny to take one day out of the year to celebrate your love for someone, but for some people, maybe it's the only day they really do that. I mean, it's probably the only day of the year that I construct an elaborate construction paper card for Sam with a super mushy message. St. Valentine is all right in my book. I've gone totally soft.

February 10, 2012

Le Weekend

Oh thank goodness for the weekend. I'm heading up to the cabin tonight and hoping it doesn't rain on the mountain tomorrow, but there are a couple things going on that you should know about.

The One Motorcycle Show: All things motorcycle. Custom motorcycles, rare motorcycles, helmet art, motorcycle art, motorcycle music, etc. I am going because Sam loves motorcycles. He had to sell his motorcycle to move out here. Did I ever mention that? It's one of those things that makes him sad and if we ever break up he will probably use, "I sold my motorcycle for you!" as his parting shot. So. Motorcycle show. Saturday night.  And probably the Sandy Hut to make the whole thing more fun.

Too Short: Yeah. Too Short is in town. Tonight! He's playing at the Roseland. What else should I say?

February 9, 2012

Cat Shows are Dangerous

So, I went to this cat show last weekend. I assumed it would be really weird and entertaining and filled with odd cat people wearing cat sweaters and clip-in barrette bows in the hair. I wasn't far off on that. Cat people are weird. I definitely overheard a lady introducing her prize-winning Siamese to a couple of cooing ladies. Or rather, she did some ventriloquist stuff and introduced "herself" to the ladies, as in: "My name is Sabrina and I'm a blue ribbon winner!"

We watched judges picking the cats up, lifting them, squeezing their legs, shaking a bit of tinsel to check their general interest levels, and we wandered around and peeked in all the different cat carriers filled with various breeds of exemplary felines. There was, among other highlights, a cat agility course. I'm sure you've heard the term "like herding cats." Cats are not made for agility courses. They are agile, yes. But they are uncooperative and lack the ability to respond to outside motivation. The first cat we saw on the agility course just walked around and rubbed its head on the little jumps and little bridges and little tubes. So dumb. We moved away and found a hairless cat to touch (not before applying a large amount of hand sanitizer to prevent the hairless cat from getting our germs).

However, the next time I wandered listlessly by the agility course (there was a lot of listless wandering. We were at a cat show after all), there was a tiny black cat leaping over the various features, lured by the possibility of catching a little feather on a string. She was amazing! I watched her go over the entire course. I was mesmerized. I was practically clapping every time she cleared an obstacle. It might have ended there but Sam watched where they took the little champion and came and got me from whatever cat cage I was poking at.

He took me over to the agility cat's cage and there she was, meowing and twisting around. There was a sign on that cage that said ADOPT ME. I reached through the cage and started petting her. She loved me. We loved each other. Sam watched in increasing dismay as it seemed that I did not just want to touch this cat, I also wanted to hold this cat, and then I wanted, seriously, to take it home with me. May the record show he was very supportive of this insanity. This cat had a thing going on. Like, a weird head twisting thing. And kind of a twitch thing. And when you picked her up, she flopped over like a broken fish. I asked about this, as I imagined this cat running around my home and purring in my ear and generally making me a happier person, and adoption lady said she may have had a stroke but rest assured, she was perfectly healthy. This may have deterred some people but this disability only made her more appealing. Stroke Kitty would soon be mine. The final step was calling my landlord and making sure cats were still allowed, as our lease had stated. And this is where the story gets sad.

Apparently my landlord is phasing cats out due to some crazy cat lady he rents to. He said no, sorry, and ended all of my cat-filled dreams. I had to say goodbye to Stroke Kitty. Sam breathed a secret sigh of relief while stating that he was extremely sad to hear that, and we left. I was heartbroken. I was so heartbroken that I was barely lifted from my malaise by the cat socks Sam bought for me as a surprise. I sighed heavily through the entire Super Bowl (even Madonna's half time show) and I thought about Stroke Kitty.

It wasn't until two days later, when I was compiling my last-ditch feelings-soaked letter to the landlord and emailing the agency about Stroke Kitty to make sure she wasn't gone, when I found out something else. Stroke Kitty is obsessed with having animal friends. Apparently I would not be enough. The agency told me that she needs a cat or dog friend in her life, or she yowls all day every day until everyone around her goes insane. This truly put an end to my dreams of adopting Stroke Kitty. But now I'm on a mission to get my cat-owning friends to adopt her. Anyone?

February 2, 2012

People I saw at the Graveyard Show, Vol 2.

I never see celebrities in Portland, so when I saw one of the guys from Danava standing around between sets, I totally did the, Oh look, the guy from Danava, right? Right? thing to Sam and he said yeah, and then the guy from Danava looked at me, probably because hearing your band name, even if it's not said very loudly, is kind of like hearing your name in the middle of an otherwise inaudible conversation. He was wearing bootcut jeans and talking to a lady but I didn't notice her because I was too busy focusing on this mild almost-celebrity encounter. Sam asked me if I noticed her later, because apparently she was wearing this nutty white robe thing that maybe came up over her head, or included a head drape portion, or turban, and I had no idea what he was talking about. Apparently that's how excited I get about Danava.

February 1, 2012

People I saw at the Graveyard Show, Vol 1.

Metal shows are just the best for people watching. You see so many interesting people and for some reason, they just stick out in my memory a lot more than the typical flannel-wearing, soft leather shoe, tortoiseshell glasses types. Take this girl for instance. I noticed her waiting in line for a drink because she had an enormous neck tattoo and I started thinking about how not tough my tattoos are and what I would get if I were to get a neck tattoo. Probably a manatee. And all I could really see was her torso because it was pretty crowded in there (sold out show!). But then, when I walked past her, it turned out that she was wearing these crazy lace bell bottoms and platform boots. Lace! Bell bottoms! Underwear!