Self Portrait of the Writer as a . . .

Total weirdo.

So, awhile back Gabe posted about the upcoming weirdness/amazing noir/modern dance/(with Kylie Minogue?) film Holy Motors, which I have to say, I'm really excited to see.

In this post he happened to reference Aaron Neville which took me back to the days of yore when I was a weird, somewhat solitary kid who was completely ignorant of pop culture and listened to whatever her parents happened to be listening to at the time. At this time in my life I remember a lot of Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Nottingham Hillbillies, and most importantly, the Neville Brothers. 

In the year 1990 the Neville Brothers came out with an album called Brother Blood. It featured predominantly in our car trips, dinner parties, and day-to-day lives. I was totally obsessed with this album. My obsession centered on a song called Fearless that featured the angelic voice of Aaron Neville (here). It's so inspirational! And romantic! And weird that I loved this song at nine years old!

I have a very clear memory of lying on the floor on my stomach next to our entertainment center (which featured frosted glass which would later be broken), listening to this song on repeat through my dad's huge puffy headphones, and writing down the lyrics in my tiny spiral white cat notebook so that I could, I don't know, walk around singing that song whenever I wanted.

Which was all the time.

My Boyfriend is not a Main Course

Wow.


MEN ARE JUST DESSERTS! from Everything Is Terrible! on Vimeo.


Source: Everything is Terrible

How to Pick Up Portland Girls X

I went to New York last weekend and it was glorious. There is nothing like a long weekend to ward off the impending doom of winter doldrums. While I was there, I basked in the differences of the coasts, the odd sartorial choices of stray dogs, the neverending food and drink opportunities, and the slightly more aggressive path that East coast males feel obligated to take. I have a single friend there; we went out to bars and talked about various dating disasters and feelings and all that shit. Along the way I had some epiphanies.

Be a Metal Guy: Somewhere between the Bushwick Social Club and Ontario (Canada-themed bar, woodsy is in) I had an epiphany. My friend should be dating a metal guy. Metal guys are awesome. They always have been. Remember? While some of you were busy being dorks in thin cotton turtle necks and Charlotte Hornets starter jackets and playing Nerf football, the metal guys were wearing their black t-shirts covered with horrifying things under a sheepskin lined denim jacket and scratching band insignia into their binders with a protractor. They can play instruments, they have an encyclopedic memory of bands and rock history, and they will never make you listen to some song that they made using an Ipad app. 

The more I pushed this epiphany on my friend, the more I convinced her and myself. Metal guys are dorks but in an awesome, unselfconscious way. They don't like a band because it's cool, they like it because it rocks. They are loyal. They don't jump on bandwagons. They have nice hair. We went to a rock show on Saturday night and my friend was impressed by the amount of guys present, though the cute baby-faced one did turn out to be a girl. Either way, the crowd showed a refreshing enthusiasm that has been missing since dudes stopped dancing and started perfecting the toe tap. Metal guys will always have my vote.

Get Aggressive: West coast guys could learn something from East coast guys. I'm not saying you should try on some sort of Jersey Shore affectation, but there was a refreshing amount of eye contact in the bars. A random sidewalk approach even occurred, which obviously, was spurned but represented a determination that is sorely lacking here in the land of pines and rain. Let's be honest. People go to bars to meet other people. I'm not sure why, because it appears to be practically impossible, but when one is single, one goes to bars and looks around and hopes there is someone there who finds them attractive and loves kittens, gluten-free beer and dead-stock Levis as much as they do. Stop pretending you don't want to meet a lovely lady at the bar, make actual eye contact with someone, and maybe try to chat with her.

Try the Internet: Not just for sexual predators and women who are obsessed with marriage, cats, and long walks on the beach. Apparently everyone is doing it. There is no shame in internet dating. It may in fact be the dating mechanism of the future, and someday people will feel awkward and embarrassed when telling the story of how they met on a ferry when her hat flew off and hit him in the face. Not convinced? I know someone who is dating an attractive stripper. This happened via a popular free online dating service. Seriously. It doesn't mean you're ugly and desperate, it just means you want to date someone.

Wedding Weekend

As most of you know, I am a groomslady in Kyle's wedding. It's happening. The bachelor party went down last night, complete with a private room at a pho restaurant and a novelty toy blowup doll christened something Branson (Chuck maybe? From Death Wish? I don't know). I was a partial attendee last night. Partial because I only went to dinner and then to the Sandy Hut and ducked out once strip clubs became the main topic of conversation. More on that later. Anyway, the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner are tonight! The wedding is tomorrow! Everything is happening so quickly.

To get everyone in the wedding mood, here are shots from the last fantastic wedding I attended. Lauren and Ben were married down in the redwoods on Lauren's family farm. It was a beautiful wedding and included the added benefit of a weekend away and the adventure that came with it. I'm pretty sure we all walked away with some stories.

Congratulations to Kyle and Emily! And belatedly, once again, to Lauren and Ben.

The Joys of a Signifcant Other, Chapter 2

Adjusting to real life. This is a huge step, right? Real life vs. romantic comedies/literature/my brain after absorbing all that stuff. My ideas about being in a relationship have changed a lot. I mean, back when I didn't have a boyfriend, I totally had a boyfriend. A future boyfriend.

He was, of course, not real, but he was always nice, was an artist or a writer (but not a flaky, stupid, self-centered one) and we would do super romantic things like watch the sunset, eat dinners cooked by him, have brilliant conversation always, and we would live in Paris, and then travel around the world in a sailboat, and live sustainably off the land in the woods somewhere and somehow it wouldn't be boring, etc. etc.

Future boyfriend was obviously not real nor attainable. Probably not even biologically possible. So you know, when you embark on a relationship you have to give up on your ideals based around Future Boyfriend. You also can't make ultimatums because they never work (except for maybe the one where you leave your partner if he hits you. That's a good ultimatum).

I once believed that I would never live with my significant other before marriage because living alone is awesome and then after marriage, you get the new joy of moving in. I don't know. I knew a couple that did that and they were happy, so I took it as my own. And all of the sudden we were talking about moving in together and I was into it. Weird. But when I started talking to my friends about moving in with the boyfriend, they told me, "You will clean. All the time. You will be the cleaner. That's just how it is." And so I freaked out and bought Sam a toilet brush. That's not true. I actually asked him if I could buy him a toilet brush and he said no. Fortunately my panic was unfounded, he cleans all the time.

I also recall a time when I tried really hard to look nice. You know, so Sam would continue to be attracted to me. I made effort to look nice when we hung out. I really did.  It's not like I wore makeup to bed or anything, but you can't look like slob, right? Over. Sam actually bought me an enormous pair of heather gray sweatpants and I wear them all the time and they have an awkward grease spot on the crotch where I probably dropped a piece of pepperoni pizza or something. And the sweatpants probably aren't a good thing, but I don't think throwing them away will change the fact that Sam has seen me in these sweatpants.

And you know there are the moments when things aren't perfect (often because I get really mean when I'm hungry and other things usually related to me) and we are not skipping around and laughing and holding hands, but that is also sadly, part of having a relationship. It's still something I'm coming to terms with.

Oh. Another lie I told myself is that we would never work out at the gym together. Because those couples are gross. But it has happened. We have done circuit training in the gym in the morning and the worst part? It was fun. And we are gross.

I'm sorry. This must be hard to hear. But there's nothing better than the real-life confessions of a person in a real-life relationship with a real-life person to curb idealism.

The Last Sasquatch Vol. 3

 From top:

Kali's space, Kyle's hiking boots

Stage and sky

Pod in contemplation

Rachael found a dread

Dos and Don'ts of Backpacking with your Significant Other

Sam and I hiked up to Santiam Lake last weekend. It was our first backpacking trip as a couple and really couldn't have gone better. However, like any new experience, it will provide a template for our next attempt. Some things were perfect and some things could use some adjustment. 

Do: Wake up at 5:00. Start out the morning with coffee and toast. Read your boyfriend the Savage Love column when it is particularly shocking.

Don't: Forget to change to your tail light. You will be pulled over on I-5 and almost have a heart attack. 

Do: Make sure you know where you're going.

Don't: Forget your notebook/sketchpad/directions in the car.

Do: Find the perfect walking stick.

Don't: Decide to pee behind a tree at the exact moment some hikers are coming around the bend. Stopping midstream is uncomfortable for you, plus the hikers will feel awkward about having to walk by some girl standing silently behind a tree while holding her pants around her waist.

Do: Bring delicious turkey sandwiches with avocado and basil. Eat them on the shore of Duffy Lake and feel good about your foray into the outdoors.

Don't: Forget that your Northwestern spirit feelings are no match for your boyfriend's Midwestern over-obvious logic. Forgetting this will send you across the Misleading Meadow, up the Road to Doom, past the Lake of False Hope, across the Barren Burnt Pine Wasteland, and finally into The Land of Early Death where you will finally realize that there is no way you are going the right way.

Do: Turn around.

Don't: Assume that your journey is over now that you are at Santiam Lake. The truth is, you are going to walk around the lake to get to the farthest campsite and the fact that you thought you were done makes this a million times more difficult. Try not to lose it.

Do: Give your girlfriend some space. Let her walk down the trail thinking she is by herself. This is beneficial for two reasons: (1) she will get her second wind, and (2) you will have the opportunity to watch her struggle to get over a down tree for three minutes. It will give you great joy.

Don't: Forget the marshmallows.

Do: Set up an awesome campground complete with tarp awning and firewood pile while your girlfriend naps in the meadow. She will be impressed.

Do: Eat a delicious pasta dinner and then sit around the fire and talk about how awesome you guys are at backpacking.

Do: Say something like, "Oh man, I wish I had brought a little bottle of whiskey" and then once your girlfriend agrees that would have been awesome, pull out the little bottle of whiskey you brought. Again, she will be impressed.

Don't: Try to use the water filtration pump by yourself. Apparently, for you, it's a two-person job.

Do: Enjoy breakfast and coffee while sitting on little rocks on the shore of the lake. Watch the clouds whip overhead, the fog spin over the lake, the fish rise. Be glad you are in the mountains.

Don't: Start hiking with every warm piece of clothing you own on your back. Once you really start walking, you will almost keel over from the heat. 

Do: Enjoy your walk back to civilization and then head straight to your girlfriend's parents' house where you can shower and then eat a warm home-cooked meal.

Travel Tips for the Discerning Couple

Sam and I had a really amazing vacation. We got along really well, we did a lot of fun activities, we ate a lot of cheese and chocolate pastries, and Sam is now blond due to all the time we spent on the beach. However, on our last morning in our apartment in Barcelona, we began to recap our impressions of the trip. Sam said that we were "traveling as a couple" experts and should probably write a guide book. I snorted and rolled my eyes. And then IT began. We alternated giving our own versions of travel advice, moving farther and farther from any hope of civility. Our travel companion Gibbons was pretty convinced we were about to break up, while we laughed hysterically with each retort.

1. Remember, this trip won't be about what you want to do, it will be about what your boyfriend wants to do. Prepare to give up all your hopes and dreams.

2. Realize that it's okay to go to bed angry.

3. Rest assured, anything you didn't plan will be a total shitshow. Remind yourself to take it in stride.

4. Remember to bring extra warm clothing, because let's be honest, your girlfriend won't.

5. Be prepared to live on baguette and coffee. You won't be able to eat at the places you want to eat because your boyfriend won't have any money. Convince yourself that budget meals are part of the travel experience. 

6. Remember, as the male and natural caregiver, you won't have any money because you will pay for everything.

7. Maintain a straight face while telling your boyfriend that he looks great in his new spanish suspenders.

8. Be prepared to experience the full effect of your girlfriend's bowel movements.

9. Resign yourself to spending a large amount of your trip being lost, as your boyfriend won't be able to read a map. Try not to question his manhood.

9. Prior to your trip, spend some extra time at the gym. This trip is not about seeing the sights, it's about being your girlfriend's bellboy.

10. Perfect the "block and sweep" to ward off unwanted advances . . . from your boyfriend.

11. Accept that it's your fault when your girlfriend drops a pocketful of belongings, including a pocketknife you bought in France, onto a group of tourists in the street six stories below.

12. When you go surfing in southern France, try to come to terms with the fact that your boyfriend will have no idea you were caught in a rip for 20 minutes and almost drowned because he will be too busy surfing. When he asks if you saw him catch that awesome wave, resist the urge to punch him.

13. Realize that the knife debacle was not an isolated incident. Don't let your girlfriend hold your camera while standing on a raised walkway at the dinosaur exhibit.

14. When you feel like talking, your boyfriend will want to sleep. When you are tired and want to sit in silence, your boyfriend will want to talk.

15. Sometimes it's best to end long vacations with separate flights.

After the Party

You know, some of my favorite times are after the big event, when everyone is kind of loopy, and danced out, and hungry, and you end up sitting around laughing about your favorite moments of the evening (in this case making fun of the English guys in the pink shirts and making the DJ play ODB), eating food (in this case not-so delicious pizza), and cuddling. Also, taking a million photos while lying on top of a hotel comforter (something I would usually immediately remove and throw in the corner due to rumors of bodily fluid stains) doesn't seem like a bad idea at all. I love these girls.

One Year

So, Sam and I marked our one-year anniversary yesterday with a self-timed photo.  There were a lot of attempts. This was actually the best one. We are not the kind of people who look cool in photos.

This whole one year anniversary thing is a pretty astonishing feat. I have never celebrated one consecutive year with anyone, and neither had Sam, actually. It went so extremely fast. One minute we were making out in a Denver dance club (like, on the dance floor. Not a classy moment. There were witnesses) and then there was the texting and calling and the brief but exciting weekend visits, and then he moved here and we were suddenly eating breakfasts together in the same city and going on picnics and attending metal shows and headbanging next to each other. I even saved his life once when we went snowboarding. He has a pretty large capacity for tolerating my wretched traits and encouraging the good ones and it has been an amazingly great year. I try to avoid gushing about stuff like this in a public forum, but it's a pretty big deal. Especially for those of you who knew me prior to this relationship and had to feed me chocolate and pat me on the hand while I flopped around on the floor and croaked that I would never date again.

How to Pick Up Girls in Portland VIII

Beware the Friend Circle: Nowadays, especially in Portland with all its transplantation, the friend circle has supplanted the family circle in terms of approval. When the object of your affection is from Kansas, it’s pretty unlikely that you will have to go through that dating gauntlet referred to as meeting the parents. Not until it’s pretty serious. However, that doesn’t mean you should not be equally wary of meeting her friends. They are probably nice people. Probably nice people just like her, who will laugh at your jokes and maybe buy you a beer and start taking you aside throughout the night and commend you because she just thinks you are so great, etc. etc. etc. OR they will tell you awe-inspiring stories about her ex-boyfriend, ask you awkward questions about your line of work, roll their eyes at your ill-timed quip about Kyron (it’s just too soon), and you will end up banished from the friend circle and from her love, left only with your shame, a hefty bar tab, and a hangover. I’m not saying you shouldn’t get to know her friends. It’s a crucial part of the process. I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with avoiding it for a while.

Keep your Pretention Level at Medium: As a borderline book snob, I am not going to try to pretend that I don’t judge people based on what they read. If your favorite author is Dan Brown closely followed by Elizabeth Gilbert (you know, Eat, Pray, Love), I will smile politely, purse my lips, and never talk to you again. A liberal arts college-refined literary background means you can bond with any number of girls in Portland who know how to read. This is great. However, THERE ARE LIMITS. You can’t sit at your place of work wanly checking identification cards with your books stacked up in front of you like you just might blow through the second half of Ulysses during your shift, in which case you will follow it up with Anna Karenina.

Be a Man: While I know there’s this whole nationwide stereotype about the Portland bearded dudes running around being overtly manly with their neck tattoos and lack of hygiene and childlike fascination of the outdoors, I’m wondering where they are. As are a lot of other women in this town. We like manly guys. I think we all had that phase when we liked pretty boys with nice hair and slim-cut t-shirts but like a late-blooming puberty, we’ve discovered that we actually like men. Men. We want to know that you can use an axe, build a birdhouse, kick in a door, win a fight, pitch a tent (literally, not figuratively, but I guess that’s important too) and other manly things like reading maps correctly and knowing how to fix the sink when it won’t stop dripping. We are still feminists and all that, so it’s not like we’re reverting to a desire for homemaking, it’s just enough with the pale iphone-obsessed type that tells stories about his cat and has never gone camping.

The Perils of Engagement

Okay, so this is not really a consequence of becoming engaged. This was a direct result of alcohol and karaoke and the urine-slick tile floor in the men's bathroom at Chopsticks on 28th and Burnside. Who is that man holding Kyle's hand? Nobody knows but it was established that he is not an EMT or a trained nurse or even a good friend of Kyle's. Notice the unnatural angle of Kyle's right foot. The positioning you see there is due to the fact that his bones are fractured in three places and his foot is not actually skeletally attached to his leg anymore. Emily remained calm and collected while encouraging photos and cracking jokes, and an ambulance soon arrived to cart Kyle off to the hospital on a backboard. This is why Emily has requested that Kyle's bachelor party take place at least two months before the wedding. Considering this was just the engagement party, I think that's a pretty good idea.

Oh Eddie

I have been listening to this song obsessively over the past few days. Dedicated to Kyle Arthur and Emily and their new engagement. Pretty amazing to think that only six months ago I was writing about Kyle Arthur's imaginary girlfriend that he made up only to avoid the occasional social function. Now she is my favorite person to discuss the male domination of the literary canon with. Yay for love!

How to Pick Up Portland Girls VII

Three pick-up techniques that don’t or shouldn’t ever work. This one’s dedicated to the lovely Heidi, who came home from a Last Thursday confused and disgusted by yet another passive aggressive pick-up.

Passive aggressive pick-up: Some dude is sitting at the bar watching a girl flip her hair around, sip her drink, and play shuffle board like an adept retiree. He decides that she is attractive. He approaches her, finds a conversation of mutual interest, indicates his desire to take her out. He probably says, “We should hang out sometime.” She agrees. He then gives her his number. We don’t know why you guys do this. You’ve already done the hard part. You’ve expressed interest, you’ve received some interest or at the very least some cordiality, and then you give up. That’s like asking someone on a date and then telling them they need to plan it and bring their credit card. Girls won’t call. It wasn’t their idea. It was your idea. They may have even liked the idea, but this method lacks follow through and that means you probably still live with your mother, have a poor credit score, and are afraid of horses.

Whistling from cars: I’ve never understood this. No matter what type of whistle, holler, or whoop you emit, you are still a person in a moving vehicle. Let’s say the girl in question does, for some insane reason, find you appealing. What is she supposed to do? Start sprinting? Write down your license number? Post an I saw U (You hit and ran over my heart . . .)? Unless this is taking place on 82nd, it’s pretty doubtful that anything will come of this. It’s uncouth. Whistling from cars indicates that you grew up with sheep and probably love professional wrestling.

Using The Game: The worst birthday of my life involved sitting in an izakaya in Kita Urawa, Japan, listening to two sleazy English teachers explain how The Game works. Prey on your insecurities, tear you down to build you up, appeal to your caveman instincts, etc. Gross. The same people who use The Game use tanning products, hair gel, trim their pubic hair into awkward shapes, and probably own at least one Ed Hardy item. Utterly depressing. These are the guys in Portland who voted for Dudley.

The Joys of a Significant Other Vol. 1

I always assumed that couples don’t have any friends because they get so deeply involved in each other that there just isn’t enough time in the day to devote time to such a paltry thing as friendship. There’s also that strange mutation from large group of fun single people who are all friends, to large group of decreasingly fun people who are all in relationships.

What I am realizing now is that it’s not that couples don’t attempt to foster friendships, it’s that their friends just don’t want to hang out with them anymore.

My theory is that a relationship creates a socially coddled person who can’t take the harsh realities of the outside world. When you are in a relationship, your partner nourishes the side of you that would normally be called into question by any chemically balanced friend. Here are some examples that have no bearing at all on my life. These are just examples. You don’t get to cry at the end of Christmas specials without being ridiculed, you don’t get to force your friend to give you back rubs, and no friend would allow you to sit on the couch looking like a bag of clothing refused by Goodwill and watch seven hours of Twin Peaks. Eventually a friend would say, “I’m hungry, there is absolutely no food in your house but a butternut squash and oatmeal, and you need to brush your hair.” Who wants that when you can hang out with someone who says you look beautiful even when you look in the mirror and see that, in fact, you do not?

Additionally, my limited social graces are going out the window. I hate small talk. You may find that ridiculous considering this blog is basically dedicated to talk that is small, but it’s the truth. It actually pains me. I like meeting new people, but only if I immediately like them and can start joking about hunchbacks or bodily functions. Now that I am armed with a boyfriend who excels at chatting in an easy and friendly manner with complete strangers, I’m giving up. We were recently sat at a wedding with some random aunts and uncles of the bride and I just sat there and ate and sipped wine and smiled occasionally while he talked. It was heaven. I will probably never make another new friend.

Eventually I may realize that I want to make new friends. But by that point it will be too late. I will be unable to introduce myself and ask the appropriate getting to know you questions in a coherent fashion, will say “we” all the time even when standing by myself, and be otherwise unpalatable for friendship consumption. And then I will go home and comfort myself with Twin Peaks.

Tears of Consent: A Memoir

Weddings have been on my mind. Not because I'm dying to get married or anything, but I have reached the age of weddings. Last year? Not a single wedding to attend. This year? I have been to three and have one more to go. My older friends had warned me about this, entire summers filled with weddings, vacation time parceled out before the weather has even warmed, weekends devoted, plane tickets, gifts, dresses, showers, etc. Your time is not your own once your friends start getting married.

I'm not saying they aren't fun. It's just a fact of life. My friends Meagan and Chad were married this weekend, and it was a lovely wedding at the Bigfoot Lodge outside of Hood River. Hood was looming in the background, the sun stayed out all afternoon, Taj (their dog) was in a tux, and we finished out the night dancing to LCD Soundsystem and Lady Gaga.

The thing that struck me most about this wedding was the fact that I cried during the ceremony like some spinster aunt with cat hair all over my polyester dress. I didn't just tear up decorously. I had actual tears running down my face. I don't know what has happened to me, a year ago I couldn't have cried if you paid me. Apparently I am getting sentimental in my old age.

How to Pick Up Portland Girls VI

Yet another installment. This one focuses on what to do after you have picked up your Portland girl and are actually attempting to date her.

Cater to your audience: This is a subtle art and relies heavily on the fact that you are an intelligent person capable of empathy and picking up on social cues. If the girl you are trying to date is an apathetic tea drinker obsessed with Sleep (the band, not the activity), she probably won't be excited about going to a Blazers game with you and being forced to high-five. In a similar vein, don't take the alcoholic punk-rock girl to the International Rose Test Garden and make her smell flowers and talk about her feelings.

Eat like an man: Portlanders love food. It's one of our things. Thus, Portland girls love food. We're all about variety, local products, weird strains of kale, hormone-free meat, Korean-Mexican fusion etc. So don't be surprised when we express shock and disappointment at your fridge filled with Kraft singles, white bread, month-old milk, and Bud Light Lime. We really like it when you cook for us, but not when it's Kraft singles-white bread sandwich dipped in month-old milk.

Be nice to old ladies: No, it's totally awesome that you can drink a six-pack of IPAs in one sitting, and that you have all these scars from when you used to punch windows, and that you once killed a rattlesnake with a throwing knife. We love dirtbags. So manly. But you should still be nice to old ladies, refrain from using your cellphone in restaurants, and politely request things from servers and bartenders.

How to Pick Up Portland Girls V

The fifth installment of an incredibly insightful series on finding love in Portland.

With Great Power: If you are in a band (like, a good band, not some amateur hour living room thing that covers Stone Temple Pilot) then you don’t need advice on picking up girls. Because they come to you. Same thing applies to professional athletes, artists, and maybe even the really good-looking baristas and bartenders at Portland hot spots. Is it a curse? Probably not. But the sort of girl that comes to you may not be the sort of girl you want to hang out with. No matter what, it’s in your best interest to be a considerate, responsible human being. A Portland girl scorned can be creatively vindictive and this town is just not that big. The last thing you want is hand-drawn posters of your horrible genital herpes posted on telephone poles all over the eastside.

Tattoos: Crucial Portland accessory. They won’t set you apart (unless you don’t have them), but like clothing and general demeanor they give people a jumping off point from which to characterize* you. Aesthetically there are several realms you can visit. The humor tattoo (ironic or otherwise): animals smoking bongs, random household objects, your face. The traditional tattoos: Often seen in sleeves, sailor stuff, Japanese koi, waves, flowers, death metal shit, etc. The tattoos with meaning: Something you got in remembrance of a moment, a person, a time in your life; could be your hometown and a phoenix rising from the ashes of said hometown. The tattoo parlor specials: straight off the wall and on to your arm, tends to be butterflies or tribal. I can say with confidence that a majority of Portland girls are not into guys with tribal tattoos. They just aren’t. It’s like tanning and hair gel. Doesn’t work here. I have also heard from someone with real-life experience that full sleeves makes you more appealing. I don’t really have any advice on the tattoo front but I don’t recommend getting full sleeves just to meet girls (you’re better off buying a puppy).

Bachelor Pad: Okay, let’s say you’ve managed to lure your subject back to your home. You probably asked her if she wanted to come over and watch a DVD. That’s fine. Whatever it takes. She knew what you meant. But let’s check the scene. Is the kitchen filled with a week’s worth of dishes? A 20-deep stack of various male-centric magazines on the back of the toilet? Have you been using newspaper as sanitary paper for the past week? Are there sheets on the bed? These things matter if you are looking for repeat visits. We like to be able to sit down on a piece of furniture in your home and not feel like we are about to be infected with something. We like toilet paper. I’m not saying it has to be spotless. I do not live in a spotless home. Most of my friends don’t either. But if you are having a lady friend over, you should give her the impression that you are a functioning adult, not a dirty little boy that masturbates every time you visit the bathroom.

*judge

How to Pick Up Portland Girls IV

The nice thing about Portland is that there is someone here for everyone. The myriad personalities/obsessions/lifestyles ensure that there is a lady out there that you can bond with over something. That something may be your vegan-Buddhist lifestyle, your tall bike, or a mutual love of Four-loko. That said, here are a few angles that have not seen much success in the field.

You are a teenage girl trapped in a male body: The new Twilight movie came out today? No, I didn't know that. No, I'm not into them. I mean, I've seen them. And I laughed. Yeah, I realize they were filmed in the Northwest. You're from the Northwest and you love them because of the scenery? Listen, Goonies was filmed here too. Just saying.

Hall and Oates: Man Eater is great song. Rich Girl is a great song. There are probably some other hits that I can't think of right now. I especially like the Man Eater video. Mostly for the cheesy fade-out editing effects. And that hair. But the fact that you played in a band that once toured with Hall and Oates is not working in your favor with the 30 and under crowd.

Sweating: From what I can tell, your interests are lawn games and sweating. I like lawn games as much as the next person. Croquet is great and sometimes I can be persuaded into throwing things and catching them (well, maybe not catching). But you are sweating so much that even the tops of your shoulders are sweating, like crazy sweat epaulets and it's freaking everyone out.

How to Pick Up Portland Girls III

We had a summit on the Skidmore Bluffs last night. It was one of those situations involving a blanket, a bottle of wine, cheese, bread and prosciutto, often referred to as a picnic. We watched the sunset, guys and girls in short shorts, the dogs, the couples, and we actively participated in girl talk. Many of the things discussed are completely private in nature and cannot be shared. However, I think it may be fair to pass along a little of what was discussed.

Go for it: Portland girls are tired of chasing guys around. If you notice a girl looking at you, don't get all darty-eyed and pretend to be reading the beers on tap behind her. Make eye contact and smile. It is okay to look at someone you find attractive, just don't leer. Try greeting your subject or introducing yourself. If your mission fails and the girl rolls her eyes, makes some scathing comment about your sideburns or your shoes, and then walks away to giggle with her friends, take a deep breath and move on. You are a shark. Or a lion or something. Don't give up. Everyone is rejected at some point. It is a sad fact of life and it feels a lot less dire the more you experience it.

No sneak-dates: Don't do this. If you like a girl we strongly suggest asking her out formally. It doesn't have to be dinner, it can be a bike ride or a picnic (we love that shit) but your intentions should be clear. If you have established something with a girl that may or may not be friendship, it is best to clarify the situation as soon as possible. We think it's obvious when we like someone or just want to be friends but historical data has shown some disconnect between the sexes. The best thing to do if you're unsure is attempt to talk about it before you've spent a bunch of money on Yeah Yeah Yeahs tickets and dinner. While it may be awkward to talk about your feelings, it's also incredibly awkward to realize that someone you don't have feelings for is suddenly trying to hold your hand during an acoustic version of Maps. Note: If the sneak-date fails , don't be a poor sport and send her an itemized bill (though that would be funny).

Don't pee on her belongings in the middle of the night: But if you do, clean it up.