Patriotic Sex Acts.

I don't enjoy bugs. Spring, yes. Bugs, find another season to be present.

Let's just end the weekend with this thought. I woke up Sunday morning in someone else's bed. Leopard sheets engulfed me in once again someone else's pajamas as well. Don't worry, the pepper shaker I stole was a mere 5 feet away, and the stamp on my hand read "OK." Clearly they were mistaken. Sunday was a day of chatting with the moms and recovering. I don't have a solid recollection of anything else noteworthy. I finished the evening with decisions to start a Bingo league with a friend. (Team Bingo Dreams) and going to dinner with a friend who was just one of many friends and mentors that are suggesting that I looking into law school and/or Ivy league master's programs... Please connect how I woke up Sunday morning with this last comment. Of course I am president material... Eat your heart out Bill.

Market Q is raging. New farms and vendors are getting locked in everyday. I still haven't purchased Carharts.

During a coffee'd up conversation, a friend and I came to the majorly scientific conclusion that women came before men. Largely based on the evidence provided in Fantasia and simple anatomy we decided that since we all formed from sludge that women are typically smaller in size, therefore we were finished solidifying long before men. This is empowering and depressing all at once considering the gender wage gap is still very real when we could have essentially started working first and/or set the pay scale.. Whatever, hindsight is 20 20.

Portland is nicknamed "Rip City" - this has a direct connection with The Blazers. Let's break that down. Rip city = muscle reference = Portland nickname = Portland is The Blazer's muscles. Epic.

Queer dance parties are still not my scene, however I do enjoy acting a fool letting mean muggers judge me accordingly. Portrait walls are also provided at said events, which basically means I get to pose inappropriately and use other people's purses as props and improperly call them "Trapper Keepers"

Tonight is Ellie Goulding evening at the Doug Fir.

Monday is the first practice round of Team Bingo Dreams... Walter (Amelia) and Barnaby (Ali) will head out in garb with rich life stories to The Liberty Glass for an early evening of dobbing and owning fools at Bingo. Stay tuned. There will be merch for sale soon...

Rage on.

Hang overs and finger pistols

Today was the day that sealed the deal that I am in fact too old for "throwing down" in any form... After a 13 hour day of work (no shit) and four changes of outfits (running get up, the eweshe day-to-day jeans and t, then my business fuckable/gay secret service pantsuit, and finally my going out clothes... typically the last one involves a button down in various plaid/flannel and maybe suspenders or my beloved fanny pack) I set out for my first "queer dance party." Bent was the name of said event and it exists once a month at a bar called Foggy Notion. Shockingly it was a terrible mess that really only served me in the form of providing people for watching at a distance. I have not felt more at home then with the interesting and overly into themselves crowd I witnessed last eve. Lots of dirty peoples, bad non-hair styles, fake glasses, and tiny outfits. Fail.
I managed a quote for the evening being that I was made aware that there was a specific lady who is quite creepy and stalkertastic and that I should be careful... Of course my response was "I am going to finger pistol her by the end of the night..." < this is not a dirty phrase it simply means I was going to shoot her with finger guns and make noises with my mouth- don't worry. Alas I did no such thing, but as the night was dying down and people's inappropriateness started showing itself I naturally went and introduced myself to her and by the next day she had already commented on a photo of my deep in the archives of Facebook and asked to be able to gchat with me when I never gave her my email address. Successfully did that to myself.. I rule.
Back to the point though... I had three drinks and maybe a red headed slut (it just had to happen) and this morning I could not bring myself to get out of bed until 9:00. For those of you that know me this is a bad deal... Not even good sex and a movie marathon can keep me in bed past 7:00.
I spent the entire day being mildly stupid and uncoordinated with every word and stumble... Finally my new platonic soulmate/ domestic partner settled for watching a movie I can't even remember and I may or may have not swept her floor.. I am a catch ladies... Get it before it's extinct.
In other news I had a lovely chat with the moms this morn about ladies, committed relationships, having children, wearing make-up, and then we started a worm compost... It felt right.
My run hurt in ways that I haven't experienced in a while, so I am looking forward to possibly putting my body into shock once again tomorrow. I may even double up and bike too.
For now all I can say is that the Vitamin D supplements everyone suggested me taking don't work and I think it is all a bunch of crap. The only thing that would make mama happy this evening is a new onesie with a built in cup holder for some hot tea... and maybe a box set of Doogie Howser. And some dark chocolate... and a craft box...

Hump Day Frump Day

Since it has been a few days I will catch all 5 readers up to date...
Monday I discussed cupcake permits with a vendor and now we have a rad date to park her truck in our parking lot. I am excited to see the inside of said kitchen truck, because someone has a fascination with being a truck driver... Or mostly just loves the idea of small spaces being used for unorthodox things (i.e. cooking, sleeping, camping, etc.) I am pretty sure I also watched Addam's Family andddd Fried Green Tomatoes. I have decided that if everyone in Portland is going to have a "queer" name aka a non-gendered name that mine will be Idgy. Also, that movie is racial. Addam's Family is not fit for children. I will not have children. Speaking of children, I have embarked on a new sweatshirt project. This one is themed: whatever I want. This includes: old timey pictures of ladies, a Lemur/raccoon button (even though there is no need for a button), a weird photo wheel thing, and some random items like monuments, coffee cups, and Airstream trailers. All outlined in glitter. Duh.

Tuesday was Gingie's day in the capitol. It was filled with jest and fun with my beloved mentor/boss, filing, and scanning. I experienced the office workplace slump at about 3pm and resorted to cookies and a Diet Pepsi from the Capital Cafe. It was sick. I managed to squeeze in a run and then went to watch Lost in Translation, which ended up being hold a sick corgi and drink Apricot Ale night. Dinner of champions: Beer, Emergen-C, and a banana. Go rexi or go home.

Today I felt burnt out by about 8:15am. This is unacceptable for someone such as myself. I tried to remedy this by eating a PB & J for breakfast. It failed. I also tried flirting with everyone I came in contact with before 8:30am just to see if making people smile would help... Also failed and resulted in potential new stalkers and making me feel uncomfortable. Mind you two of them were gas station attendants and the others worked at a Starbucks in Beaverton. I blame myself.

After job #1 it was off to Salem to have lunch with Oregon's Secretary of State, Kate Brown, and attend a legislative meeting for 2012. Kate = awesome. Looks like a certain gingie will be keeping doors open for the possibility of law school or MBA/MPA in the future. Pretty sure I need business cards like yesterday. .. I need fun, unboring, and appropriate ideas for this project.

For the rest of the evening I will do emails, laundry, and be in bed by 9:45. I rule. Days like these make me want to cry like a sissy baby for no reason. They also make that McDonald's sign that says "20 nuggets for $4.99" look almost imperative to my survival. Every now and then my days are so mentally long that the only thing I want is something horribly self-destructive. I kept driving and just bit my nails instead. Sick.. But my immune system is better than everyone else's!

A typical Saturday evening

Portland was quite lovely yesterday... Sunny for most of the day, then a random hail moment, and back to sunny but gray. I experienced an iced black sassafras tea and quite frankly I would have rather had Starbucks. I drank it... Don't worry.

I spent my evening away from my typical Saturday night raver scene of house music, excessive drug use, meaningless sex with strangers, and wearing neon (one of these is actually true). I attended the Scappoose Senior Center (pop. just under 5000- located off Hwy 30 in BFE Oregon) Mayor's Ball. In a nut shell my evening went as follows:
Arrival- During the silent auction I bid on a deer painting, a hand-painted miniature boot, and almost straight walked out with an electric gravy boat. Sadly I only won the boot, but it is a treasure none the less.
I was asked in a round about of ways why I was there by the elders and then it was suggested that this must not have been my idea... I informed them that I actually chose to come and that I was actually having a splendid time. Rude
Dinner: mini-burgers, battered fries, tiny banana splits, and iceberg salads. You had to pay for soda though- that wasn't free... The drinks were weak and you weren't allowed to buy just shots. Fail.
The theme was 50's sock-hop... There were exactly four people dressed the part.
The DJ played Britney Spears, Nickelbak, and Mambo #5 for a few hours to get warmed up then switched to 50's music. Later I noticed that said DJ was auctioning off his services in the "oral" auction (their words)- get it while its hot folks. Geriatrics love Brit...
The top items to bid on during the oral was a 75' section of stain-resistant carpet, $50.00 gift card for gravel, a ceramic giraffe (of course I threw some bids on that), but the only item that riled up the crowd was a $100 gift certificate for garbage removal or a porta potty. After a bidding war it sold... For $100.
As per usual I was more interested in wall decorations that I could steal for my very own... The best thing was that they had handmade glittery signs with phrases from the 50's (i.e. Kookie, Big Daddy, Daddy O, beatniks, I "dig" you, etc.) Naturally, I only had interest in the sign that read "Hand Jive." After commandeering that I saw a picture of saddle oxfords outlined in glitter and took that too for good measure.
I solidified my existence by uttering hoots and hollers at various big ticket auction items and calling some abstract crayon art offensive as they tried to auction it off..
We left by 9:30. I was beat.
The night was finished with a VHS viewing of My Girl and coloring/stenciling. Unfortunately, that was accompanied with getting snotted on by a dog and gassed on by a Corgy.
My precious day off will be spent bike riding and possibly making an attempt to go read somewhere (only if I remove all electronic communication devices within a 1 mile radius will this work). For the rest of you, I recommend busting out that old CD of Lauren Hill's Miseducation of... album and giving it a good listen. She isn't racist anymore... It's fine.

After my granola

I am practicing buying in bulk. I knew it was a bad idea, but I just felt as though buying yogurt in a larger container vs. the smaller ones was not only cheaper but more environmentally friendly. Great. Pat on the back... Then I ate the yogurt. It was plain. Bad choice. It is tangy and not a friendly companion to my bought-in-bulk granola. What's a girl to do? It's problematic because I hate things that are vanilla anything (candles, lotions, shampoo, perfumes, air fresheners, chap-stick) and it just seems like all big containers of yogurt only exist in plain and vanilla. I am seriously considering writing to the makers of all hippie granola and telling them to step out of the box for a moment. It's ok to branch out and make a blue raspberry or lime every now and again.

Moving on. Yesterday was a big day for me, so naturally it only made sense to make it a themed sweatshirt day... I had recently made an impulse buy at a vintage store that included old post cards and a white, short torso, 80's yacht-ish sailboat sweatshirt made by none other than Avon. Yes, that is the same Avon that your mom used to buy from people at the door and then proceeded to lather you down with Skin So Soft oil. Or at least that is how we most certainly rolled in the south (aka mid west or east if you are an ignorant west coaster that has never seen Arkansas on a map). I felt as though I was really proving to myself that I am no longer an OCD clean freak because I wore that sweatshirt without washing it first and it smelled like old man and faded bleach... It grew on me throughout the day to be honest. I wish J-Lo would use that as a template for her next line of fragrances.

Now, this sweatshirt did good things for me. I met a lovely lady that is going to help me with my farmer's market, but it was much like a blind date when we met up for coffee. (we had been emailing back and forth prior to said meet up) As I was waiting I realized that my gingie presence and sailboat shirt accompanied with skinny jeans and gray Keds was quite possibly the least likely farmy outfit I could wear. Naturally I texted her and gave her the FYI that she should be looking for a gingie and then I made a mental note to go promptly to the Carhart store for new themed outfits.

In other news Market Q has hit the gay press... That is right. Gay. Press. Now I may spread my queer lettuce and LGBT apples across Portland. If we were in Arkansas right now the front page would read "Gingie poisons Local with Gay Produce" or "Farmer's Markets... The New Gay Agenda" -

The weather here is slowly improving and by that I mean it is still gray, but the rain is more of a mist, it's warmer, and the sun actually comes out for extended periods of time. Yesterday we had one of those afternoons and most people in Portland quit their jobs, found a baby or dog to walk, and hit any random neighborhood to just walk around. Bikers were in full force... In their skinny pants and gauged ears. Everyone was jolly and happy. Spring is kind of rad. I was at blind date meeting so I forced her to not only sit outside but to sit directly in the sun where the fair gingie received her first sunburn of the season. Bring it Vitamin D. I want you all over me.

Last but not least I went to happy hour with a new friend who was breaking down the Portland lesbian scene. It is tragic and I will reserve telling the tale for a day when I actually can provide adequate examples and maybe a few photos to prove my point. Let's just say for now that I will remain single. Following HH I met up with some folks to go to Homomentum (a queer, burlesque, drag show, song and dance shit show). All of the usuals were there... You had the goths (too tortured to participate or laugh but secretly desperate for friends) hipsters (too queer for their own good and in need of a good shower) the clique lesbians (4-8 women that are there to congregate only in their own group and that practically sit on each other) misfits (you know those kinds) and drag queens/kings floating around. It was mildly entertaining, however it was a reminder of how sometimes I could better serve my time doing laundry or stenciling goats onto various items I own.

Now it is time for a bike ride or a run. I wish everyone a delightful Saturday.