Sunday, August 30, 2009

On the other Friend/Why you may hate me cont.

Where was I? I think I was telling you about how I was the person who went for a long ride with Molly and Jim, Marissa's stepdad, along the cascade lakes highway last wednesday. It was pretty. And there was a waitress at the Cultus Lake Resort where we ate lunch. She was pretty. And quite forward. Without saying a word she made it quite clear that she would not be adverse to a roll in the hay with a certain young gentleman. Now, as you can imagine, this placed me in an awkward position, seeing as how I was sitting across from my girlfriend's stepdad, and next to one of my girlfriend's best friends at the time, and my girlfriend was not in attendance. I am all for some harmless flirting with a pretty girl, but not in such a judgmental atmosphere. I politefully declined the invitation. On the way home we made the mistake of turning onto south century drive, which is under construction, and ended being 18 miles of ragged wet gravel. When you're on a motorcycle, this is a big deal.

I'm bored with this story. Flashforward to the more recent past. Marissa, Madison, and Molly took off to the coast for the weekend, so I haven't spoken to any of them in a few days. Last I heard their campsite was full, so they were sleeping in a Wal-mart parking lot. nana.

Since I was suddenly free from the onerous burden of a girlfriend for an entire weekend I decided to finnnnnally have some fun. This is where you have my permission to hate me. Friday night after work found me wandering around the old mill in ripped jeans, rolled up capri style, and flip flops, drinking whiskey from a flask and red wine from a nalgene bottle, listening to an outdoor ween (wean?) concert and taking photographs of the sunset colored clouds. What have I become? Upset by this painful introspection I left Drew ogling some ladies at the Greg's Grill fire pit and bicycled home. Yes, I rode a bicycle too.

I redeemed myself slightly after work saturday night. Nick and I met Raszler the BeDaszler at Fox's billiard lounge for some cheap beers and cheaper pool. (It was free, the girl forgot to clock us in on our table). Fox's is not a hippy friendly place. It's somewhat trendy, mostly normal, and an all around a good time. I highly recommend it. On the way home Nick became enraged by a gigantic, muraled, biodiesel spewing hippy bus chugging its way through downtown. Where the beatniks mildly irritate me through their laziness, they throw Nick into a fit. As an outdoor education instructor Nick knows first hand about how the Rainbow People, as he calls them, come into a community and destroy the local wilderness, trashing public land and giving nothing back. His rants were about as colorful as the painted bus he was hurling vulgarities at. It all sounded quite bleak to me.

Today is Sunday, so I don't need to do anything. My plans include nerd noveling and hugification procedures at the weight lifting facility. Without having my young lady in the house I've run out of food and clean clothes. I'll keep you posted.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

On the other Friend/Why you may hate me

The past week or so has been exceedingly hectic America. I have been slammed at work; the seasonal nature of our product results in violent fluctuations in business. Understandably there is far less motorcycle selling/fixing going on in say December than there is now in August. At least in this hemisphere. Marissa has been a crabby appleton, having slightly over-extended herself, through no fault of her own, by having both friends and family visit Bend at the same time, all competing equally for her time and affection. As the stoic, non-complaining, gentlemanly, and all around wonderous boyfriend, it has fallen to me to entertain her guests while she is otherwise engaged. In the past few days I have gone out to dinner with her stepdad and his mother, and spent some quality bonding time with her friend Molly, a truly lovely and interesting young woman.

Molly's days have been full of beer drinking, white water rafting, long motorcycle rides through the mountains, and all around good fun. All she had to do to come here was get fired from her job and spend her life savings on a plane ticket. Hint America. This could be you too.

Right now i'm getting ready to hit the pool hall with Nick, but I will update you with curious stories and entertaining anecdotes from my week when I return. I know. I'm excited too.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

On the Friend

Marissa Kay had her first friend from CT visit us last weekend, so in the ultimate popularity friendship adventure fun-factor joy contest the score is now solidly 1-0 Marissa, considering the fact that she's been in Oregon 3 months and has already had a friend visit (and another scheduled to fly in next week), and I've been here almost a year and only my sisters and mom have visited, and that's just because they didn't have to pay for the plane tickets.

You dissappoint me. Daily.

We had to make the drive out to Portland after work on Saturday to pick up Marissa's friend, (who's last name is actually Friend) which instantly made me hate him, but then I realized we were picking him up from a mathemagician convention, which instantly made me like him. After fighting with his GPS for a short time we finally escaped from Portland, a well known den of evil, and hit the road back to our little slice of paradise in the high desert.

On sunday the Maximus wrote some nerd novel while Miss Kay and AJ went hiking, and then we wandered downtown for a beer at the brew pub and some people watching, and we finished our evening with a bike ride to the depot for some rock climbing, and cold beers at bro-manor. Against my better judgment I was coerced into joining Marissa and Madison and AJ on an ill-advised nighttime trek to Paulina lake in search of alleged hot springs. We found the lake, but after hiking several miles in the dark, we never found any hot springs. No one bothered to research the trip. If we had, we surely would have realized the springs are IN the lake. We drove home defeated.

Monday I worked. The roomates floated the river. Then we played beer pong for a bit. I excused myself early to go to bed, since I knew I had to work once again the next morning. The others did not go to bed. They had friends over. They drank. In fact I believe they drank 1 million beers. So many beers that at some point later in the evening Miss Marissa got out of bed and wandered through the entire house, out the garage and into the back yard, where she proceeded to pee everywhere. Oh and she was stark naked. And there were people awake in the back yard. Perfect. There's nothing like a dishevelled, belligerent, nude girlfriend terrifying the neighbors to make one's night at brohouse complete.

It's all good in the hood.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

I learned something four days ago.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

On the Weather

It's hot out.

It's the type of hot where your body automatically shuts down seven of your ten most important internal organs, and you hallucinate like you're packing a horseshoe lip of salvia. The hallucination is always that you're rocking back and forth slowly in a walnut and beechwood rocking chair on the veranda of a southern plantation sipping a tom collins and saying things like "it's hot today" and "It's going to be hot tomorrow" while your bosoms heave magnificently. In this hallucination you're a woman. It's that hot.

On top of the heat, there's lightning today. So much heat and so much lightning that although I do be safely inside the house blogging on the "I will write this blog...in Oregon" blog with your esteemed selves, my nuts have drooped and dragged behind me on their endless quest for relief to such a sweaty rank degree that they've been accidently shut out in the front yard where lightning near misses are singeing my pubies as we speak.

I'm very aroused.