Category Archives: Diary

another 4-letter word…

posted by:  audra

rain.  when i first moved to pdxoxo, i hated the rain.  i mean, hated.  i remember a particular instance–circa spring 2000–heading into safeway with sam, walking across the parking lot.  it was raining.  hard.  i said, “god, i can’t wait for this fucking rain to stop!  will it ever?!”  sam replied, “well, you moved to portland…get used to it.”  at the time, it made me so fucking mad.

then i started working in the service industry, where when it’s sunny outside, it brings people!

i hate people.  i do. 

so, in turn, i began associating sunny, warm days with annoying patrons–their little crumb-snatching crotch maggots in tow.  i would look forward to forecasts urging portlanders to “pack your umbrellas!  batten down the hatches!  it’s gonna get nasty!”   but when i started working a normal office job, i found the rain to irritate me.  it makes traffic worse.  it makes the product in my hair liquefy.  it could run a brow, given the direction of the wind. 

and now it just makes our fucking mudroom wet. 

several weeks ago, our roof started leaking.  i walked into the kitchen one hungover afternoon, to get some water.  i stood at the sink, looking into the mudroom through the window a la roseanne conner, & the ceiling was all water-stained, drips coming from above.  after poking sam a few times to coax him out of bed to go knock on our landlord’s studio door to fetch some help, some plastic was placed on the roof.  temporarily, of course, until a more permanent fix could be brought forth.  on a dry day, the roof was indeed fixed. 

it rained quite a bit over the following weeks & not a drop was dripped.  it was fixed!  amazing!  then last night after a massive downpour, it started leaking again, this time in new places & more enthusiastically.  the landlord came this morning to investigate, & was not happy–with his repair job or the leak in general.  just to be sure, he looked underneath the house (we have a dungeon!  it’s creepy!  like, where one would stash a body, should the need arise!), and checked the bathroom for any suspicious leaks. 

first he wanted to check the shower caulking.  i told him that it “might be gross”, as i hate cleaning the shower.  he pulled open the curtain, and there i saw a wad of my hair balled up on the shower floor.  gross.  i was horrified.  but i let it pass…he didn’t seem disturbed. 

this is when i took the opportunity to tell him about the phantom smell in the bathroom cabinet. 

remember the one?  the one i told you about?  the one that’s like mildewy towels left to rot in the washing machine on a 90 degree day, for like, a week?!  that one! 

he poked around in the cabinet area a bit, pushing aside moisturizers & kitten powders…then said that it was an old house, & that maybe it was something the previous (dirty fucking hippies!) tenants had put in there & that maybe it’d absorbed the smell.  typical.  then he said that it smelled good to him (i now stow incense in there), & not to worry about it.  he got kind of weird at this point, nervous, & said that maybe “baking soder” would get rid of some of the odor, if it was still a problem.

“did i just say baking soder?!

“yes, you did!” i giggle. 

“well, ha…you know, baking soda.

“oh, duh!  of course.  yes, i’ll try that.”

“well, it looks like everything’s okay in here!” 

meeting concluded.

later that evening, after said landlord gets on the roof to put up some more plastic, apologizing for it looking trashy, sam comes home.  we decide to leave the house for awhile.  first, i must use the loo–otherwise i’ll have to pee as soon as we shut the car doors. 

i’m going about business as usual, & glance down at the offending cabinet that was previously inspected by the landlord.  there i see, on the bottom shelf, gleaming like an oracle from baby jesus, my hot pink vibrator with spinning pearls in the shaft.  the ultra 2000 with the golden handle & varying speeds, out on display for all to see.   

oops.

rain will get you nowhere.

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the dress

posted by:  audra

the other…week, i went to see a very dear friend at the vintage store at which she’s employed.  my first plan of action was to see her face; the second was to find something spectacular to wear for my annual day of worship–my birthday. 

right away i found the most perfect piece:  1940s (or whatever) baby-blue sheath dress, beaded all over, in really good condition.  capped sleeves, mid-calf length.  it had some ‘foo’ on it; some discoloration from years of wear, or a champagne toast gone awry.  the hem was a little frayed, but nothing a sharp pair of scissors wouldn’t fix.  the best part?  it was under twenty bucks.  believe it!  i was in love. 

i’m against trying garments on in stores.  i hate it.  i would rather deal with the hassle of returning or exchanging than to go into a tiny fitting room, smelling of moist armpits & vadge sweat, fucking up my hair, only to look into an unflattering mirror intensifying my cellulite under fluorescent lighting.  gross.  who wants to mess with that? 

so, i hold the dress up to my waist.  i’ve learned the fine art of holding things up to me, to see if they fit, without trying them on.  i’ve always been 100% accurate.  did you know that if you hold a dress (or whatever) up to your front, and can fit it halfway around you, then it will fit?   the waist of the blue baby fit perfectly.  i pulled it across my chest.  again, perfect. 

the dress makes it safely back to our home, where i try on my other treasures first.  everything’s good.  i step into the dress, and it hugs my hips in a non-hideous way, making me look thinner somehow.  the top fits as well.  the shoulder parts fall in just the right places. 

fuck.  the zipper won’t go up.

it won’t.  even.  move.

my back is FAT.  my back!  fat! 

i’m spilling over like a heavy-loaded fruit tree.

whatever.  stupid fucking vintage garments & their fucked up proportions! 

filthy tight, the dress is filthy.

but look at these fucking beads!

i went hunting in my closet for something else to wear.  remember that short, flared skirt i used to wear?  the black one?  kind of woolly?  yes, here it is.  i pull it on. 

i can’t get it fucking buttoned.  at ALL.   i don’t even want to think  of attempting to put on my favorite size 6  halter dress from several years ago.

but it’s feeling so damn tight tonight.

so, okay.  look.  i’ve been over this a gabillion times, but for god’s sake!  i truly believe that i will be forever self-sabotaging myself.  when we first moved in september, i took walks.  all the time.  sometimes two, three times a day.  i’d get up early.  i worked out.  jillian michels 30-day shred!  i was so sore the first week, i could barely move.  my weight was the lowest it’s been in 2 years.   my muffin-top was gone. 

then the weather got sort of crappy, & i started sleeping in.  i skipped working out, and sat looking for a job instead.  i drank a LOT of beer.  i may have had some cheese, too. 

is this common, the up-down weighty issues?  i’ve done it for as long as i can remember…and when i was at a weight close to 130lbs seven years ago with a shaved head, i didn’t think i’d ever gain weight again.  but i did, lost it, gained it back, about five times over.  so what if i fancy hot dogs, bacon & a pat of butter every now & then?  if i’ve said it once, i’ve said it seventy-seven times: i’m not an over-eater!  i’m an over-drinker.  maybe my food choices aren’t the best all the time.  and i’m lazy.  do you even know what kind of damage that combination can do to your chins?!

last year my goal was to lose a bunch of weight, get skinny & bleach my hair to look like debbie harry in the 70s.  do you know how many layers of black hair-dye i have on my head?!  too many to ever be that blonde.  perhaps i need something a little more realistic, like fitting into the dress?  or, at least my old, flared black skirt.  gross…is this me making the new years resolutions already?!

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i can’t believe i dyed my hair & shaved my legs for THIS…

posted by:  audra

the most preciously icky thing just happened to me:  a job interview gone totally horrible.  it went something like this…

10:27 am:  i leave the house, perfectly pressed & polished. 

10:45 am:  arrive at destination really early.  my appointment was at 11:15.  the outside of the building is nice, professional, cute…kind of stands out in the skeezy neighb.  

10:46 am:  go inside of said destination.  interior is dismal; one crappy watercolor on the wall, about 5 dingy gray chairs that have seen better days, NO magazines.   TINY room…maybe 6×8 in dimension? 

10:48 am:  greet front desk person mySELF.  she’s trashy & kind of rude.  i sit in one of said gross chairs.

10:48 am:  shortly after sitting, a woman clamors in with her two crumb-snatching crotch-maggots.  one of the chitlins isn’t doing so well.  i thought maybe he was just throwing a little hissy fit, by how the mom was petting his head asking if he was okay.  evidently he wasn’t throwing a hissy–he was going to throw up. 

10:49 am:  the mother keeps badgering the ugly, sick child and finally asks if he’s “going to puke”.   his answer:  “uh huh.” 

10:49 am:  i panic.  i have a fucking interview, you sick fucks!  you know your child has some sort of vomitty ebola virus or whatever, and you STILL take him out in public, you fucking imbecile?!  what is wrong with people?!!  if there’s ONE thing i can’t handle, it’s vomit.  it’s my absolute number one fear–being vomited ON or NEAR.  i don’t want to hear it, see it, smell it or worst of all–feel it.  i’m so freaked out at this point that i’m literally shaking, because this kid’s about to blow.  it was carpeted though, so that would reduce the chances of splatter.  i had a plan to jump up & run to the opposite corner of the room, should this actually take place in this tiny, gross lobby.  no restroom sign in sight, the mother rushes over to the front desk area to ask where the bathroom is.  pointing to a weird, unmarked, white door, the mother grabs the timebomb & takes him into the loo. 

10:50 am:  not 2 seconds later, i hear it.  everything.  every detailed, splashy, liquidy awfulness.  great.  not only is this reeeeally fucking sick, i had to pee.

10:50 am:  i move to the farthest chair away from the door to hell. 

10:53 am:  a dumpy, trashy mouse with a scrunchie comes out of another door.  she thanks two people of mystery & leaves.  immediately following her exit, i’m called into the room.

10:54 am:  i’m greeted by a short, old-ish man with a weird face.  kind of like he’s melting…somewhat like toby on the office, only browner.  not latin brown, just brown.  brown skin, brown hair, brown suit.  cheap.  there’s a woman, too…she seems nice.  conservative, but nice.  mr. brown is totally skeezed out, like total sexual-predator vibe.  gross, gross, gross. 

10:55 am:  “wow….you’re eyebrows are amazing!  that must take you a long time to do everyday!”   strike one, asshole. 

so, we do a bit of small-talk.  it’s awkward.  mr. brown seems drunk.  is he?  is it just pills?  maybe he’s really hungover.  nope, i’m pretty sure he’s intoxicated.  he’s awfully loose.  and he rubs his face an awful lot.  they ask why i’m not with my former-employers any longer, and i explain.  it appears that this is the first time he’s reviewing my resume.  he says, “oh i see you worked at some vineyards!”  well, just the one VINEYARD…but yes.  “wow, you commuted all the way out there?”  yes, of course i did.  the woman is silent.  “what did you do at your last job?”  well, since you’re looking RIGHT AT MY RESUME, i suppose i’ll save you a step & tell you.  “do you have questions for us?”

10:58ish am:  i reply with, “oh, yes i do!  um….so [the woman] told me yesterday on the phone that you’d be hiring for several different positions.  i was under the impression that there was just the one.  i want to be certain–which position am i actually interviewing for?”

yes, i really had to ask that.  this was ridiculous.  “oh, well, you’d definitely be interviewing for the front-office position.”  okay….and? 

i ask what the pay is going to be.  get this…

“that’s a good question.  i see here that you made [undisclosed amount] at your last job.  i can tell you right now that we won’t be able to pay you that much, but it won’t be any less that what we’d pay our administrative assistant.” 

and i didn’t make “that much” at my last job.  seriously.  you’d have thought i was asking them to start me at $65/hr or something.  i have to backup a bit….yesterday when i spoke with this woman to setup the interview, i asked what the wage was.  she was real  sketch about it then, too.  what is with these people?!  i should also add that they’re looking to hire IMMEDIATELY, as in now.  so, wouldn’t you think they’d have the payroll shit figured out??  they wouldn’t even give me a ballpark figure!  isn’t that weird?!  i said that i would possibly take a little bit of a pay-cut, just to have a job.  he says, “well, you’re on unemployment, right?”

“no, i’m not.”

“why not?!  man, i’ve had people just walk right out of the door on me, and straight to the unemployment office!  it’s free money!” 

really??  oh my god.  so i’m sitting in an interview with your company, and you just told me that “people” have repeatedly “walked out the door”?!  sounds like an awesome company to work for. 

i’m of course, horrified, but he asks if i have any other questions.  i had prepared a long list of really articulate questions, so i continued with my next one, “what would you say the typical career path is for someone in this position?”  thinking he’d answer with paralegal, legal assistant, something clerical, whatever…maybe going to law school…right? 

no.  he LAUGHS.  laughs!  shakes his head, rubs his brown face some more.  “wull, i dunno…i mean, you either got the skills & move on, or you don’t!” 

i mean, is this is a totally retarded question to ask an interviewer?!  i think it’s pretty valid, don’t you? 

NEXT!

“what are a few things you feel makes this position interesting & challenging?”

MORE FUCKING GIGGLES!  and face rubbing!  and an, “ohhhh….hmmm…..that’s a good question.  the clients? (laughs again) the people i work with?  yeah…the people who work here definitely keep it interesting.” 

ewwww i totally feel like i need a rape-shower!

this is when i decide not to ask any more questions, especially “how do you keep your employees happy & motivated?”  i don’t even want to know. 

11:07 am:  interview concluded.  i was barely in there for 10 minutes, and all of this ickiness happened. 

rules for potential employers:  when you interview me, be professional!  don’t you fucking dare laugh in my face, and don’t even THINK of commenting on how much time it must take me  to do my eyebrows!  inappropriate!  and don’t tell me that people have walked out on the job!  NOT COOL!  and especially, BE PREPARED & don’t look like a TOTAL FUCKING MORON!! 

i’m over today.  i need a drink.  who’s in?

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dix

posted by:  audra

so, babies…it’s nice to be back, yes?!  i’m happy, you’re happy…and i can’t tell you how many “thank-yous” i’ve gotten for posting again.  actually, that’s a lie; i can…and it’s 3.  but that’s better than nothing, right?! 

so kids–my 3 readers–you’re very welcome & it’s my pleasure. 

i bet you’re all wondering, what is it she’s up to, now that since there’s still no job in the picture?  well, i’ll tell you.  i’ve been learning things!  and brace yourselves…i’ve learned a lot.

  1. the chicken fried steak at the spare room is fucking awesome.  the whole plate is covered–literally the whole plate–with sausage gravy.  it comes with a side salad (with shredded cheese, of course), garlic toast, and assorted steamed vegetables.  i love me some dive bars…but this place is like shari’s had a baby with the sandy hut.  and i adore it. 
  2. you can almost always find a marathon of roseanne or the golden girls on at any given time of any given day. 
  3. a haunting marathon on the discovery channel is on mondays from 11am-5pm.
  4. the bottom portion of our bathroom cabinet fucking reeeeeeks.  if i go more than 2 days without cleaning it, it smells like rotting wet towels that have been left in the washing machine for several days (not that i would have any experience at ALL with that).  i think there may be some sort of water leak or something in there….i have bleached, vinegared, clorox everyday’d, baking soda’d, citrus cleaned…you fucking name it, i’ve scoured with it….and the smell returns every fucking time!  suggestions?  my touch me then try to leave cream  can NOT live in a cabinet like that!
  5. there are no good jobs.  anywhere.  oh, there was one…and it was purr-fect, in my neighborhood, paid a lot, i was more  than qualified…and they never called me.  fine!  you just lost yourself the jolt of sunshine your pathetic office was in need of!  i hope you’re happy, assholes!
  6. i can go without smoking for hours.  sometimes i don’t even smoke until like, 4 in the afternoon!  i knew i wasn’t addicted. 
  7. i am good at losing weight.   but even better at gaining that weight back after getting a head/chest cold and doing nothing but eating grilled cheeses & watching the telly for 5 days on the pretty pink sofa.
  8. i miss my friends!  terribly!  all of you; some more than others…  call me!  i know that i project the busy, glamorous, glitterati lifestyle you could only dream of having…but i’m probably just doing a load of laundry &  scrubbing the bathroom floors whilst golden girls are on in the background.
  9. happy hour at le room florida is my favorite.  6 old g’s, endless chain-smoking, 2 orders of sliders with tots & a bar tab of $9.50.  amazing.
  10. the remake of the last house on the left was good.  pretty good, at least.  i was pleasantly surprised…until the very end.  why do they always have to fuck it up?!  spoiler alert:  krug’s exploding head in the microwave.  retarded!

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sensory deprivation = over!

posted by:  audra

okay.  look, kids–i know this hasn’t been easy…for any of us.  i miss the weekly recounts of my life just as much as you do!  believe it!  and i have gotten scolded…many a time…for having this much fucking time on my hands & not blogging.  but! it’s all i can do to not sit in front of a screen all day, talking about myself.  it’s been a struggle not to do so, but here you go.  it’s all going to be purged…even old posts from weeks & weeks ago that were never posted!  exciting, right?!  and so, we begin….

august 20-something, 2009:

an elitist’s guide to sea-rattle:  dive bars, lamb & a bus stop

okay.  so.  i know, right?  you’ve been sitting around, waiting for the night to come, or whatever.  at least i have.  you want to know ALL about what the biscuits & i have been up to?  of course you do!  i should have probably made a little note saying ‘sigh…we will be on temporary blog sabbatical for a bit…’ so that y’all didn’t throw a hissy.  but i didn’t.  and now that hissy has come & you’re sick of checking for new posts.  i know my friends well, so i know it’s happened…

disclaimer:  this is neither charming nor witty….like you’re used to.  continue if you wish…

so kids…sam & i had THE most lovely vacay in seattle EVER.  seriously.  like, better than new orleans, london, paris & the coast of italy combined.  for realsies.  believe it.  in seattle, of all places!  we met THE most incredible people EVER.  ever.  and then we came home & then i come into work the next day to find out that i have been fired.  i’ve realized since that day that i’m much too pretty to work there, so it’s for the better.  and anyway, who wants to hear about that?!  not you.  so….

the first night we were in seattle, we stumbled upon this bar i’d found on yelp called the nitelite.  please, please go here iffn’ you’re in the mood for a cranky bar-maid, divey slabtown-esque setting& craving something called taco fries.  de-fucking-licious.  it’s this ridiculously gross looking pile of fries with taco meat, jalapeños, sour cream, tomatoes & cheese.  jesus christ.  i literally was so sick & feeling awful that i was running a fever when we arrived last-last-last thursday night, & these babies totally cured me.  that, and some beer.  these fucking d & d idiots sat next to US (of course), so we had the honor of listening to the different methods & such of dungeons & dragons.  they’re quite lucky i wasn’t feeling well, was getting drunk & had the taco fries on my side.  in fact, the bartender repeatedly asked them if they were ‘actually going to order’ and if not, then to ‘get out of her establishment’.  awesome.  even she knew they were idiots.

the next day was the pinnacle of our trip.  we have the most uh-mazing friends ever, and are SO lucky to have them… friday was the 2-year anniversary of our dear, dear friend seth’s death.  our lovely friends k & a hosted an amazing soiree with all of seth’s close friends, and i tell you what, it was such an honor to be at a gatheringsurrounded  by his nearest & dearest, and to be included in something like that.   there were some incredible experiences surrounding all of that, including getting a town car escort sorta by accident.  anyway, we love you guys to death & miss you terribly already! 

saturday after le party, we slept until 2 or 3-ish.  sam & i–in typical cuntington fashion—got coffee & ended up hoofing it to the funhouse, a rad little venue/bar where some of our very close pdxoxo bands play often.  perhaps you should know that at this point, i am NOT showered, NOT made-up, NOT wearing clean clothes, nor are my teeth or hair brushed.  believe it.  i’m wearing 2 dirty black tank tops, dirty jeans, a leopard headscarf, huge sunglasses & converse.  i know, right?!  see, if you think i never go out in public undone, you’re right.  but maybe in a foreign city i might.  this, or course, is when we run into mutual friends of friends.  and also drink breakfast bloodies…

…because this lovely little venue, and lovely it is…does not serve food.  real food, anyway.  the waitress stated that they ‘have a microwave’ and ‘unless you want a hungryman frozen dinner, you’re better off next door.’   so we drank our breaky drinks & walked to the best bar ever, the 5 point café.  just hearing someone else say ‘hungryman’ is embarrassing enough. 

kids, you don’t know what you’re missing until you’vebeen to the 5 point.  incredible people, super-laid-back, delicious diner food, and a fucking rad juke box.  we had gone to this place on friday afternoon prior to the seth-party & lurrrrved  it.  it felt like home; i never wanted to leave.   it’s not touristy in the least, so you’ll meet the bestest locals EVER.  the sexy bartenders are nice if you’re nice to them.  the bathrooms are clean, but one drunky away from being gross, which is what i like.  the clubhouse is perfectly mayonaissed & baconed.  the omelets are fluffy & cheesy.  you’ll likely hear the cult, mother love bone & mudhoney.  if the regulars like you, they may give you half of their peanut butter cup—straight from the freezer.  and then hug you on your way out the door.  and if you’re lucky, their number & email address.   this place has been around since 1929, or whatever, for obvious reasons.   heart, heart!  i fucking love the 5 point.  thank you, babies!

le saturday afternoon after our booze breakfast, sam & i went back to the hotel max where we were residing, to you know, shower & such.  maybe sober up a spot, too.  we then made our way to a cab to explore capitol hill.  love, love, love, you guys!  it’s sooo quiet & rad up there, i nearly passed out.  after spending waaay too much time & money in sonic boom records, i asked this super-hip & attractive gentleman passing by which bar he would recommend.  he rattled off several places, so we sort of walked around peering in doors to investigate.  nothing really spoke to us until we came upon smith, the last place he’d mentioned.  i could live in smith.  really.  it’s dark, minimalistic, but cozy.  taxidermied heads of various animals & birds mounted tastefully(!) on the walls next to abstract portraits of important americana figures past.  the bathrooms are super dark, with the stalls made out of very old doors.  the sink is mounted in an old sideboard.  delicious.  the servers are really fucking hot, really fucking nice, and the jukebox contains sleater-kinney, heliosequence & the jam.  we ordered some marrow bones with bruschetta ($9) to start.  sam had a burger for around $12 (& mentioned it was possibly better than the slow burger?!), and i had a steak & potatoes with duck fat for 14 bucks.  ridiculously underpriced, fantastic atmosphere, rad servers……sigh!   i’m kicking myself that we didn’t take hardly ANY pictures the entire trip…especially of the food—and the hot people we met.  anyway, at smith we drank several really amazing local beers…which embarrassingly enough, i have no idea what they were…but then went on a quest to find another bar we’d been dying to visit:  the redwood. 

it took asking 3 different people on the street (after walking around drunk & aimlessly by ourselves) to find it.  but when we did, it was like a glowing oracle.  i’d been DYING to come here, you guys.  i read about this thing, this ‘seattle dog’, which is a hot dog smothered with cream cheese.  i nearly had a coronary.  the redwood is supposed to haveit….but upon sitting at the bar, it was nowhere in sight.  we sat awhile & noticed a cute little couple sit next to us.  but i was ready to leave.  the bartender wasn’t very good, my creamy hot dog wasn’t present & i was tired.  my breakfast bloodies were really starting to kick in.  the music was terrible too.  i think we were there long enough to hear the allman brothers greatest hits record twice.  gross.  i’m pretty sure we put some money in the juke at this point…the only song i remember playing was ‘transmission’…

and thanks to ian curtis, it lead us to make instant bffs with the cute couple sitting at the bar next to us.  we began bantering back & forth about music, & ended up doing a bit of bar-hopping with them for the rest of the evening.  i felt a bit out of sorts, what with my frump-wear:  black top, cuffed skinny jeans & converse…but somehow my sparkling personality was still able to shine through.  thanks baby jesus!  the four of us went to the buck  for a few drinks; cute place, crowded, small, nice servers…and three words:  wasabi grilled cheese.  whilst i didn’t have the time to make gastronomic love to my grilled cheese, it was still enough to make me wanna go back.   and so, after we passed the buck, we managed to find this fabulous little bar called the bus stop. 

the bus stop = hot staff, amazing dj (book of love + old new order!), small, intimate classy bar posing as a dive.  it’s the bartender’s bar.  the owner is beautiful, super-nice & he’ll be disgustingly attentive–even if he’s busy.  believe it.  you’ll love it, babies!  promise!  and be sure to stop in the cute little vintage store next door…there just might be a glamorous tranny begging you to come in & take a look at a few oddities.  just sayin…

sunday i believe we slept in…again…and perhaps went for a little walk around.  i think it was hot?   i don’t really remember.  but i do remember meeting our lovely, lovely friend bianca for sushi at the red fin at the hotel max.  yours truly ordered something called the yummy roll; skrimp tempura with cream cheese (!) wrapped up with some sort of fluorescent orange roe on top…salmon roe maybe?  yummy indeed.  b had the las vegas roll, and sam something neither of us remember… but i believe it too had cream cheese & definitely eel.   lovely…but not the greatest place ever.  the alcoholic in me ordered a tasteful lychee martini, but of course followed that up with a vodka tonic after the sushi.  delicious.  we then talked bianca into going back to the bus stop with us; it happened to be karaoke night.   god bless that bar.  i swear on chanel i would have done something, but those fucks were gooood  in there.  intimidatingly good.  had it been a bar with dirty old men & ladies lubed up with jean nate, i totally would have pulled off my best sophie b. hawkins, but for god’s sake….

monday = DEPECHE MODE DAY.  yes, kids– the whole day.  except for the break we took for dinner at ten mercer with our friends g-mae, adrian & new friend tucker.  i highly recommend the rack of lammy.  the place was cool, but our server was kinda cunty…like rushing us a bit too much.  it’s busy.  so?   anyway, sam had the crab ravioli, which was lovely….there’s also a succulent duck breast on the menu.  i love breasts AND ducks.  damn. 

while the lamb was lovely, it caused us to miss the ENTIRE peter, bjorn & john set.  believe it!  wellsies….not the lamb alone, but maybe primping & preening…and sleeping in too late.  and what’s with key arena not allowing booze INTO the shows?!  you have to chug your drinks real quick-like & haul ass back to your seat?   whatevs.  not a fan.   but our seats on the floor were uh-maze-ing & dépêche totally would have ripped my knickers to shreds, had i been wearing them.   one of the best.  shows.  ever.  ever!  including bowie!  and peej!  and i know we say that all the time, but totally really mean it this time!  here’s a little treat from what you missed:

thank god i was there for you, right?!  yes, yes…the audio & such is bad, but i didn’t post it.  i just relay the festivities. 

fuck, this is getting long…sorry loves.  see?   this is what i get for being afraid of falling into the internets-coma & avoiding the computer at all times while i’m newly unemployed.  i just do my nails & chain-smoke instead.  seems healthier somehow.  but anyway….

so, before heading back to the room directly after the show, we dragged our friends back to the five point café once again.  man, i can’t say enough how much i love that place.  this was the third trip to the five point & first time i saw it with standing room-only….  which normally i would throw a hissy fit & leave…but with this place, was happy.  people SHOULD be coming here.  it SHOULD be packed on a monday night at 11.  …or not.  if i lived in seattle, i’d probably be real cunty towards the assholes that were taking up space in OUR bar.  but, whatever.  i got my omelet & some beer; sam got some fried mac & cheese wedges.  we closed the night with the amazing crystal, and then a night-capping serenade with this homeless, but surprisingly well dressed man named pops.  he said to look him up on youtube…and fucking hell, he was  good…but sadly, i didn’t find him.  sigh!

the end was sad.  real sad, for realsies!  but fortunately, we were lucky enough to have one night with our lovely, cute couple we had met at the redwood, in pdxoxo the next week.  we love & miss you kittens!  the photobooth at east end will never be the same…

….and we are fucking LAME we have like, zero photos of our own.  we seriously packed our camera everywhere, too.  i suppose i should just believe that we were having too much fun to take pictures.  and i think that we were. 

loves.

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le fucking heat wave

posted by:  audra

oh, my little sweat-drenched parakeets…i am so.  over.  summer.

i’ve gone on & on about my distaste for hot, sunny weather before, but we’re in the throes of hell & i’m about to fucking lose it.  yesterday’s local forecast stated that portland would reach an all-time high of 107–the second highest in the nation, next to phoenix.  phoenix!  add to that a humidity level of over 70% or something ridiculous like that…well, my body & mind turn on me.

this whole week has been the worst week ever temperature-wise, but yesterday & last night were the absolute worstest.  at one point, it was 92 degrees in our apartment, and 106 on the patio…and that was around 7pm.  my back was sweating.  my forehead.  my neck.  behind my knees.  under & in-between my tits.  inner thighs…yeah, i totally had the meat-sweats.   and that was just from sitting!  the heat’s making me feel floopy enough to not even pour a drink until nearly 9pm.   and that’s just wrong.

last night, when i walked into our little oven of a home, i flicked on the telly.  there i see a message from comcast stating that there has ‘been an interruption in service’ & to ‘please contact a comcast service agent’.   this irritates me.  and even more so now that even my earlobes are glistening with sweat.

a couple of months ago, our cable provider switched to comcast digital cable.  our apartment management pays for this, or rather, it’s included in our rent.  we’ve never had to deal with the cable company directly–just plugging in the television is all the labor that’s needed on our end.   after the big digital change-over debacle, comcast provided our entire apartment community with cable boxes.  even for those with newer tellies, like us, so we’re able to pick up a few extra channels.  like oxygen, where i can masturbate to tori & dean: home sweet hollywood.

anyway, these cable boxes, while small & inconspicuous, still irritate the fuck out of me.  we have a lot of stuff, but it’s all arranged just so, and any additional clutter i can’t handle.  i knew they were trouble from the beginning.  but, last night instead of fighting with comcast, we watched mau mau sex sex, the skeleton key (shut up, it’s good!), and sideways.

sam & i hadn’t seen mau mau(2001) yet, so here’s a quick review:  if you luuurve vintage sexploitation & grindhouse films like we do, you will love it.  it’s a documentary about the godfathers (dan sonney & david friedman) of smutty independent cult films who made movies like my personal favorite, a smell of honey, a swallow of brine.  it tells the story of how they made the controversial risque films first, when no one else in the industry was doing so.  now (or at least in in 2001–dan has been deceased since 2002) they’re bumbling old men, bickering back & forth about pussy galore.  it’s good stuff, kids!  especially when you’re cable is out & you’re sweating like a greasy little piggie.

as of right this very second, our cable is fixed & i can somewhat breathe now…if it weren’t for the stifling heat, i’d be in good shape.  jesus…this was a lame post.  the lameness won’t last forever, babies.  promise!  we love you!

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goodwill cuntington

posted by:  audra

did you enjoy the play-by-plays of the vadge doctor experience?  of course you did!  everyone loves hearing about speculums & globs of blood flying out of a vagina!  or at least i do.  just sayin’.

i think i mentioned the other day about how we do have some other things going on…so, more antecedents for which we only seem to be lame as of late:

we’ve been so busy, biscuits & me.  why?  wait for it…we’re  finally moving.

i know, right?!  like, across town!  across a river even!  into a house!  and away from our le douche deluxe ‘hood!  where there are actual black people…even hipsters & hippies!   and where we are closer to a cute little co-op than we are to the nearest safeway.  sigh!  a bubbling dutch oven of braised culture & better fashion awaits us.  yes it does.

this, of course, has caused us to totally panic in anticipation, due to the enormous size of our collection of shit.  this house is way cuter and slightly bigger, but has way less storage.  it was built in 1917, so, that was way before it was common for the average gal to have 75 handbags & 90 pairs of shoes.

speaking of which–i cleaned out my closet last weekend.

don’t get all into a tizzy yet–i didn’t get rid of anything that good–mostly just a bunch of flats i used to wear to the winery.  some chunky heels i’ve been hanging onto since i was 19, too.  i also have this super-nice, but weird-fitting cocktail/halter dress.  it’s really cute on the hanger but exacerbates the genetic betrayal that is my legacy.  it’s been in my closet for 4 years.  the tags are still on it.  it was really fucking expensive.  i’ll probably never wear it.  i opted to keep it.

what i did get rid of:  15 leather handbags & 22 pairs of shoes…and then another 5 pairs i found later…as well as about half of my closet.  i mean, i only wear like, the same 4 rotating outfits anyway…my entire closet is literally jammed full, waaaay past its capacity, as is my dresser…and i never wear any of it.  ever.  i told sam on our 5th carload to the goodwill donation center, “so this is how cute things end up at the goodwill!”  it’s true.  attractive, stylish people who live in terrible, suburban neighbs inevitably have to get rid of large quantities of good shit when they move into an urban neighb.   if you’re ever in goodwill & see a really rad, vintage blue & white colander with a tiny bit of rust on it, it’s mine.  make the purchase & take care of her, please.

anywaysies…this darling little cottage-y structure has a yard, to make up for the extra closet space i’ll be missing.   i have lofty plans for the bare front walk & back patio, i do!   i’ve been the proverbial pent-up crazy plant lady in our building for nearly 8 years.  this year is the first year i haven’t really taken much care of the patio garden–empty urns & dried up chives–in wishful anticipation of moving, which now, of course, we are.  but the dead plants & empty pots are  super-embarrassing!  i’mma make up for it.  promise.  i’ve been dying for hydrangeas.  big ones.  and bee balm would be cute as a border.  and bleeding hearts in a shaded corner for spring?  my head may explode.   jesus.

going through all of our nearly-ten-years-of-built-up-shit has been quite the experience.  interesting stuff we’ve uncovered so far:

  • a dried-up wishbone from a chicken.  i’m pissed there was only one; i had several in a drawer & found just the one!  i’m not even kidding.   we were going to pin them on the wall.  it was going to be awesome.
  • the level that’s been m.i.a. for over a year
  • about a dozen books on hatha yoga, feng shui, astrology & dream analysis
  • an “empty” henckels knife box in the outside storage closet…meaning that it was likely once positioned by the front door for recycling after unboxing said knives, only to use it as a trash bin, fold it up & forget that i’d put trash in it, thus making it a “good box to use for whenever we move later”, putting it into storage & finding it filled with crumpled plastic wrap & butter wrappers 4 years later…oopsies.
  • an artificial christmas tree in 3 pieces
  • 2 sets of christmas ornaments even though we never put up a tree because i hate them
  • miles & miles of speaker wire
  • 1 mystery ac adapter
  • 10 or 11 crappy paintings i did between the ages of 17 & 22
  • the beastie boys licensed to ill on cassette
  • …as well as like, 200 other cassettes.  sam pared it down to around 50.
  • countless bar receipts from 2007, & then a batch of bank receipts from 2003
  • a picture of me at medieval times on my senior trip…shudder.
  • in an old handbag, i found a pre-sale slip from when i worked in the cookware department at meier & frank…in 2000(!) with some lady’s credit card information on it (oopsies!) & the item that she wanted:  a dansk pottery article of some sort.   service ware i think.   something ugly for sure.  the slip had a piece of chewed gum wadded up in it & a note that said, audra, please call me when this becomes available.   thank you, theresa.  i wonder if theresa ever came back for her item?
  • a mini bottle of pravda vodka
  • rough drafts of my 25th birthday party invitations & most of the rsvps…still scented with chanel!
  • 2 sets of pier 1 dishes stashed away that i’d thought we had gotten rid of like, 5 years ago
  • various broken bits of mystery items (plastic; multiple shapes & sizes) that were going to be fixed at one time
  • a bag of mixed european coins…mostly euros
  • a large mac cosmetics shipper containing a single mac compact that was shipped incorrectly to me…clearly the color was meant for a woman with much darker skin than mine.  i never returned it.  i’ve decided to keep it & use it as a bronzer.
  • some sort of bullet in my ‘special box’.  i suspect that a boy gave it to me as a token of affection to remember him by.  sadly, i don’t remember.
  • a concert ticket from 1998 at the tri-cities fairgrounds:  sugar ray, loudermilk…and much to my surprise spoon(?!).  i totally didn’t have any idea spoon had played that show!  my little buddy britt daniel & i go back way farther than i thought.
  • tons & tons of oil paint, acrylics, watercolors & brushes.   and tons & tons of bad art.

oh my god, you guys…i knew we had a lot of stuff…but this is ridiculous.  it’s bad.  i’m just impressed with ourselves that we could fit it all into 925 square feet!  it feels like grey gardens in there, only on a much smaller scale.  and much, much cleaner, of course.

…speaking of which!  did you see it?  we finally watched the new-ish grey gardens with jessica lange & drew barrymore for the first time.  it was sort of meh…  i think i was hoping for more reenactments of the documentary, rather than a movie-movie.  it was pretty good, but drew ruined it for me.  her portrayal of little edie is almost good, but she wrecks it with her voice & bad accent.  her face got in the way sometimes too.   jessica lange, on the other hand, totally fucking nailed big edie!  really frighteningly accurate performance.  amazing.   we ended up watching it twice, and i think as a whole, i liked it better the first time around.  the second time you tend to notice that it really is made for tv & it’s not so great.

oh my god, what if i planted all grey/silvery plants in a couple portions of the yard?  i could call it grey gardens.  ooh…  wait, is that dumb?  or brilliant?

anyway!  that’s that for now, my sweets.   i can’t promise there won’t be any big gaps from here on out…at least for awhile…your favorite little meat sticks are terribly busy as of late, and are going on a quick vacay next week.  pray to baby jeebus with me that the fucking weather will cool soon so that my thighs won’t stick together anymore, and that we’ll come home from seattle with tons & tons of debaucherous & entertaining stories for you!  you’re excited.

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