Go Portland, being ironic enough to merit its very own new show from an SNL alum.

"Portland is a city where young people go to retire" Let' meet this winners:

Pretty sure this show is gonna be great.

Oddly enough, growing up just 3 hours north of this soon-to-be iconic city, I didn't ever spend much time there. But fate intervened by staging a food processors conference there last week (nothing says a hoot like food processors, right?). I met up with a friend from Seattle, a good friend of an ex-boyfriend, who, in an odd turn of events, was temporary roommates with a good friend of the subsequent ex-boyfriend, and stayed at my sister-in-law's grandparent's house, who, in an and even more odd turn of events, live in the same neighborhood as the next ex-boyfriend after that. Go figure. This is my life. Rest assured, no ex-boyfriends were contacted during the trip.

I spent the weekend prior to the conference trouncing around downtown, poring over Powell's extensive collection, and eating well beyond my heart's (and stomach's) content. In fact, since the only thing I keep really coming back to when people ask about the city is the food, I figure I might as well immortalize each dish.

Habibi (Lebanese) - Artichoke Heart and Pork Shwarma casserole, with pita. Seriously drool-worthy, every bite.
Henry's Tavern - Okay, no food here, but good, cheap pool, and lots of men.
Street carts (Thai) - khaw khaa muu - life changing. Took me back to Thailand. Worth a three hour trip just to get back to this tender pork, sweet hard-boiled egg, and pickled something. DREAM COME TRUE.
Fire on the Mountain (hot wings) - They've got 16 different sauces. And tots to die for. Deeeelissh.
Voodoo doughnut - A Portland visit is apparently incomplete without it. I skipped maple bar n bacon and some of the more creatively named donuts for a butterfinger-topped ring. Yum.
Southpark Wine Bar - I don't think I'll ever be able to eat crab cakes again. Nothing will ever compete.
3 Doors Down Cafe - homemade pasta in a shape I've never seen before. Fancy schmancy and worth the price in cash and tummy damage (pasta and I don't usually agree).

I wish I got pictures of each dish. Seriously. Maybe I've got a foodie deep down that's just screaming to get out.

Portland, oh Portland, you know I'll be back.


RIP Lenovo, and all you meant to me

My computer died a bit ago and the moment the broken video card became a reality, I burst into tears. It's a cry I already feel silly about, especially since all I really used the thing for is Facebook, blogging, and Netflix. I'm not much of a crier so it's always a little bit of a surprise when something just a little emotional opens the floodgates. [I sometimes wish I was more able to process inner turmoil through tears. There's an amazing cathartic power in just letting out whatever is festering inside and not worrying about mascara, puffy eyes, or pathetic sounds and faces that are inevitable through the process. I'm working on it. The death of my computer was good practice.] But really, the death of my laptop was about more than my computer.

The laptop was given to me by a boy who was crazy about me. He was the kind of guy who didn't go gaga over girls, but for a minute, I had something like that effect on him. And he certainly did on me. He let me into his usually very private world and it was great. It's both scary and wonderful to have someone let you in where strangers aren't allowed. I've never been very good at opening those doors, even a crack. I came out of that place with a new appreciation for dedication, pride (the good kind), faith, and whatever it is in a man that makes him an admirable leader. I felt in a way that I hadn't in a long time, or ever before.

It was an unusual relationship that ultimately dissolved into an extended back and forth, with a lot of miscommunication, pride (the bad kind), and hurt feelings. There are a lot of things that probably could have been done differently on both sides, but in the end it's something that I just needed to let go of for a lot of reasons. I made that decision months ago. But I still had his computer. It still had his bookmarks and it represented, I think, some evidence that the gaga was real, at least for a while, and I wasn't quite ready to entirely move on from that I guess. How strange that no matter how on board you are logically with an emotional transition, the emotions sometimes just take a while to catch up. Slowpoke emotions, seriously. The death of my computer was a healthy cut of that last thread. What good is a computer that hums as if its working, but will not function properly to its purpose?

There's hope in this borderline traumatic experience. I know what I want and I know what I don't want, making computer shopping all the easier. It is guaranteed that whatever machine comes next will be better for me than the one before. The same goes for a man I know more about what I want; character traits I need, how I want to feel, qualities to avoid. Whatever is next, will be better. For me. For sure.

Now, on to laptop shopping. In the meantime, I've dusted off the old Firstline Dell (also a hand-me-down) that still has Napster bookmarked and is miraculously functioning at full capacity despite a few cosmetic damages (i.e. the entire frame of the screen is hanging on by just a hinge).

Just a rebound, 'til I can find a dreamy replacement :)

Not many people can cover John Mayer and not sound amateur. YouTube diva, Melissa Polinar does this sweet rendition of his song Heart of Life. Really skip to 0:48 to bypass her blah blah talking.

I do know the heart of life is good.

Traffic JAM

Some people have a problem dealing with this every morning:
It's dark, it's wet, it's sometimes slow (though sometimes not, for no obvious reason). I don't mind it too much most days, mostly because I am empowered by the following praise, given to me daily by a billboard near my office:
I - am - the BEST - singer - - - in the WHOLE - WIDE - CAR. Preetty impressive, I know, right? I have all sorts of proof of my in-transit accolades, difficult to document unfortunately, so you'll have to take 76's word for it.

My billboard was replaced a while back with an ad for Hennessy liquor (stylin') so I forget sometimes how good a front seat performer I am until a real jam comes on and my inner diva comes out. Then it all comes back. Enjoy the show, fellow drivers. I learned these moves in Katie Teddy's big ole' Expedition to the Bring It On Soundtrack back in the days of Kirkland waterfront rounds and gymnastics sugar highs. Moves like this just don't go away. Don't you wish I had my windows down?

Today's party was inspired by the one and only MJ. It worries me a little that Michael is now getting play on the 104.5, the oldie's station. How is it possible that this hunk of sexy moves in FULL SEQUINS gear (I need those boots)(and high waist leggings) (AND the bedazzled crew neck) can share air time Etta James and the Monkees. They didn't have laser lights in the high pelvic thrust during 'the Oldies' era, they just didn't. Though let's take a minute to picture that all up in Etta James and enjoy the moment...
Now, join me on my ride into work today:

Which brings up one of my new favorite guys, Seo Jorge, a Brazilian and his amazing, totally stoned-out version of Michael Jackson's Rock With You. Bring on the Samba for the rush hour home:


Me gusta la tuba

From all I've heard, I was ready to hate Elizabeth Gilbert and love the scenery shot in the movie Eat Pray Love. Instead, the lasting impression from the movie (besides my gut telling me I should move to Bali) is Tuva Novotny and her audible sigh worthy, classy/sassy/adorable, just the pixie I've been looking for haircut. Too bad her name would sound just like tuba in spanish, or I'd be loving that too. Question is: how short is too short? And would it be best to be blonde to rock it right?
Kind of like Katie's or a little grown out like Paris

Something tells me springtime will bring scissors.

Sidenote: I can't stop listening to this song lately. The band (esp the lead singer [seriously, guy, is that a charm bracelet necklace and almost a mexi-stache??]) look pretty slimy and trying too hard, but I literally sway and smile against my will every time I hear it.


For cars, she couldn't care less

Grrrrreat news. I just paid off my very first very own big girl car that I bought by my very self! It's a big step for all big girls, one that many take earlier than I had to. Lucky for me, I had the trusty green Chrysler New Yorker to take me through high school. The front passenger seat was stuck all the way forward and the thing was about thirty feet long, but it was spacious inside and all leather! Last I saw the dreamboat it was parked up at Snoqualmie Pass, piled high with snow coming out the windows, left for a blizzardy weekend by its new owner Thomas.

In the early years of college, I moved by foot, except for rare weekends I had my sister's mexi-truck. After the mish, I conveniently stepped into the white Ford Escort left behind by my parents, and it followed me home when I moved back up north. Less than a month after I bequeathed the sweet ride to my little brother, it died. (haha, sucker!)

Car shopping is about the ultimate worst experience ever. Talk about buyer's remorse! I'd never spent a chunk of change like that before and I hope I won't have to do it again for a while. I paid for most of my ride in cash (cuz I'm rich like dat) and worked it out with the bank to pay a portion after the purchase. Goal was to have it paid off by the end of the year.


And here it is!

Not actually my car, but a green '99 Honda Civic just like it. Beauty, ain't it?

Four months of driving it and here are my favorite things about my car:
  • Gas mileage
  • Easy parking
  • Fold down back seats into the trunk
  • Heats up quick when it's cold
  • Cools down quick when it's hot
  • Green is easy to spot
  • It's a normal, average car and it'll do me just great!
I can't imagine wanting anything else.

I made curry tonight and the whole house and all my clothes smell like it. Scarf, sweater, coat and everything underneath. Gross.