No Egg Puns Here

There is this department store in Japan called Parco. It's one of the big ones. Here is a Parco ad featuring Faye Dunaway. I'm going to be honest. This makes me really sad. Jealous, rather. While I was in Japan I saw a few funny ads featuring Tommy Lee Jones, but the rest were like, Cameron Diaz and Hillary Duff looking really, really perky. If I had seen this ad while watching television I probably would have cried in sheer joy (it was an emotional time). Also, this is dedicated to Heidi (we have this hardboiled egg thing going at 834).

Peace on Earth?

Everyone's favorite teenage hockey team is in the semi-finals. Caitlin is a Rosebud (they dance on ice and have red pom-poms and outfits she personally made from old hockey jerseys)and she has some mean spirit finger/clapping moves down. Pretty inspiring. Anyway she hooked me up with some tickets and my dad and I followed up a family Easter lunch (egg dyeing and all) by attending their game.

They lost! They lost to Vancouver (BC, not our friendly neighbors to the north) and really, Vancouver is a wonderful city and if we are going to lose to someone at least it was them and not somewhere lame like Oklahoma City or Ottawa. But there weren't any fights. Honestly, I was more disappointed by the lack of fighting than the loss. I'm pretty sure this makes me a bad person. Maybe even a horrible one.

Egg on my Pants

I am house-sitting right now. This involves hanging out with a large gray cat with no teeth who likes to talk to me and appears to be eating an insane amount of food (I'm worried that he is eating so much because he doesn't know how to deal with abandonment and they told me to feed him when he wanted to be fed and if he keels over from overeating I'm going to feel really bad).

I went snowboarding this weekend. It was good, best conditions yet. Which doesn't mean that much considering I haven't been able to go on any of the great days this season. Because I have a job. And knees that are giving out. But anyway, I always stop at Mountain Moka in Sandy and get a coffee refill and usually a bagel or a breakfast sandwich and the girls are always caffeinated and chipper and foundationed and I have a frequent customer card that I have almost filled, but instead we went to that gas station which has the burrito shop inside. I got a breakfast burrito and it got all over me and my hands and my face and my pants and my car. It was a battle. I was wrestling with this burrito for a good portion of the drive and was probably one ill-timed bite from an accident. And while it was tasty, it seems wrong to keep finding little bits of egg in the creases of your clothing as you move forward with your day.

Weekend: Check

Nothing better than a weekend well-done. Jocelyn is back from Ecuador and studying for the Oregon bar. She came to visit for the weekend and she and Rian and I went to I am Snowboarding at Nemo and then to the Holocene for a dance party featuring Reporter. Rad. There are apparently multiple bands named Reporter but this is the three-piece Portland band formerly known as Wet Confetti. I am officially a fan. Lots of synth and distorted guitar and Metropolis beats and at one point we found ourselves creating a complex dancing machine with robot arms and punch kicks. You would have had to be there. Late night follow-up pasta dinner and chorizo breakfast burritos in the morning and an extensive errand checklist. We witnessed a car accident and the man not at fault was missing a foot and disoriented by his airbag. We went to that shopping village off I-5 which was kind of horrifying. Biwa for dinner (how have I not been there? The only thing they are missing is miso ramen, but they have high-end shochu and karaage and hot towels and it is probably as izakaya as you will get in Oregon). This was followed up with Christina's birthday party with crazy socks and cake and dancing and cops and then breakfast at Liz and Jesse's in the morning. They should probably just open up a bootleg breakfast place. I would go every day.

Don't Break the Yolks or I'll Kill You

My friend Molly is staying with me for the weekend. She came up from Eugene where she is living with her boyfriend and cooking him food because she doesn't have a job. She's a teacher but the school she was working at recently closed. It's unfortunate but she will be okay. She is one of my favorite people and I wish I could post a photo to go with this story but I think they are all on my laptop. We went camping once near Buena Vista after playing disc golf at Leadville and shuffleboard at a bar in Buena Vista where a man lurched in on stilts and got a beer. We woke up in this little pine grove and made breakfast burritos in the sun and then drank tall cans of High Life and did a photo shoot. It was pretty grisly.

I got up this morning and took a shower and then I made her make me breakfast. She was sleeping on the couch but it's Dress-up Friday so I was wearing these boots with noisy heels and they woke her up and then I asked her if she would make me breakfast and she actually did. Eggs and toast (this is a big deal because Molly has never been enthusiastic about cooking. I remember snacking on raw mushrooms at her place in Colorado because that's all there was). And she told me that when she was growing up in Coquille this methhead broke into some lady's trailer and pointed a gun at her and ordered her to make him some eggs. He told her, "Don't break the yolks or I'll kill you." So now that's a running joke in her family. And I don't know if anyone's seen Once Were Warriors but that has a great line involving eggs and violence as well and that was a running joke when I lived in New Zealand with six other people at 729a Cumberland. And speaking of eggs, when I was decorating the christmas tree last week with my family, we were talking about how eggs are just little abortions and joked about how we should bring that up with the pro-lifers at the next family holiday event. I guess there is a lot of humor potential in eggs.