Archive | July, 2010

Everything has been a little off this week.

I suspect the full-moon was partially to blame. Or maybe it’s that summer just doesn’t seem to be coming to Seattle this year, and we’re a little upset about it. Or perhaps it’s that every single person I know (myself included) just hasn’t been getting enough sleep and is a little cranky. This would certainly explain the behavior of my friend’s two year-old-daughter, who I babysat this week. She alternated between laughing, crying, and running around like a child possessed for four hours.

I knew exactly how she felt.

Why are things so off? Why are we so cranky? And how is it that my links for the round-up reflect this, even though I didn’t mean for them to? It’s clearly a mystery. Read on, while I go get a snack.


Only the dead have seen the end of war. Hee hee. I am clearly warped for finding that as funny as I do. (via


-I didn’t realize you could just walk into a drugstore and find them next to the panty shields.



Taken at Rite-Aid, Portland, OR.

Rand and I were wandering around in L.A. last week (did I mention that nobody walks in L.A.? It’s because nothing is close by) looking for decent food near Venice Beach.

We did not find any. Instead, we ate at a restaurant so bad, that the vast majority of the food was left on the plates. The waiter asked if anything was wrong, and we just shrugged and said we weren’t hungry. This was woefully untrue. We were starving, but the food was crap. And it wasn’t crap as in “Good food prepared badly.” Instead, it was “bad food presented honestly.” There was little we could do, and telling the waiter it was awful would just risk him bringing us more food. Sometimes a chicken soft taco is simply a chicken soft taco. You can expect no more from it.

There’s a lesson there, somewhere.

As we walked back from our dismal and depressing meal (fear not our lack of sustenance – later, Alaska Airlines would serve us a mixed green salad topped with chicken, blue cheese, pecans, and dried cranberries. It made my heart sing) we saw the beginnings of what could only be an epic battle to the death.

Behold Contestant #1:

Um ...

What can Lexus do for you?


It’s a Lexus. Posing as a UPS truck. I’m not going to pretend I understand what’s going on here, but offhand, it looked like someone was trying to pass off a very expensive vehicle purchase on the company dime.

“That $60,000 charge on the corporate card? That was for shipping costs. Yeah.”

Either that, or the Lexus had just been cast as a UPS truck in an upcoming role. It was simply getting into character.

Rand joked that a real UPS truck was going to drive up and kick its ass. Moments later, we saw this roll by:


Contestant #2:

UPS Delivery truck

It’s brown. And it’s pissed.



Forgive me if this post isn’t funny.

I swear, it isn’t my fault. I’ve been trying to shed a couple pounds before being squeezing myself into cocktail dress after cocktail dress (for wedding season is among us) and the first casualty of my reduced caloric intake in my sense of humor. There’s a joke here, something about how that’s why all the girls on Friends were both skinny and unfunny, but I can’t pull it together. If I had a donut, I probably could.

Also, did you notice that Jennifer Aniston makes really bad movie choices? It’s like she’s trying to fail.

Did I mention I’m phoning it in today, too? I’m phoning it in today. Forgive me. Tonight I will eat two pints of gelato, ensuring that tomorrow’s post will be riotous, and also that I won’t fit into anything I own. This is the sacrifice I am willing to make for my blog.

For today, you’ll have to settle for 10 photos from our last trip to Portland (and surrounding wine country).

1. Clyde Common Restaurant, Portland.

They serve popcorn. POPCORN. At a restaurant. Never have I heard of anything so magical.

They serve popcorn. POPCORN. At a restaurant. Never have I heard of anything so magical.

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Forgive me for getting straight to the point on this one. But here’s my shouldn’t-be-at-all-shocking-but-nevertheless-is revelation: First Class is not a right. It is a privilege.

Even if you’ve paid full price for the ticket (which most people haven’t), you are still incredibly fortunate to be able to sit in first class. You are able to board first, deplane last, sit in a nice big seat, and eat fancy snacks. It is fantastic. But it is not a right.

The only right you have, whether you’re sitting in coach, business, or first class, is to be treated like a decent, worthwhile human being. This is, of course, provided you behave like one. This also includes treating other people like decent, worthwhile human beings.

And yes, that means flight crew as well. They are not fancily-dressed waitstaff. They are the folks who will save your ass should anything go wrong.

And if you are fortunate enough to sit in first class?  That goes double, because once again, you are PRIVILEGED to have that seat. You cannot act like a drunken buffoonish idiot.

Are you listening, douchebag seated in 1D?

Because holy cats, you absolutely suck. I hope the irony of committing a Dick Move! while sitting in a section called “first class” is not lost on you.

Let’s recap our trip, shall we? I promise, I’ll be brief. It was, after all, only a 3-hour flight, though sitting in your vicinity made it feel DECADES LONGER.


Rand and I drove down to Portland a few weeks ago for his birthday. It’s a drive we do often, and one that’s so familiar to me, one that so rarely changes, even our jokes have become recycled.

And believe me, the jokes are terrible.

When we pass the exit labeled “Toledo / Vader” it always goes something like …

“That’s where Darth’s cousin from Ohio lives!”

What? I told you – the jokes are terrible.

And nothing ever changes, save for the messages on the billboard between exits 72 and 73. It will occasionally have a different message on it, though most of them lean heavily towards the right (and well beyond it, into no man’s land.). We’ve dubbed the gentleman who owned the billboard “The Fascist Farmer”. Here’s a brief analysis of the political spectrum and his location therein …

Please note: Michael Moore should be fully in the Crazy left-wing section, but I ran out of room.

Please note: Michael Moore should be fully in the "Crazy" left-wing section, but I ran out of room.

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I tried to figure out where this week went, and then I realized that two days of it were spent in Los Angeles. I’ll be posting about that trip next week, but let’s just say that few things can make a day more surreal than being in Los Angeles. There’s an abundance of face boobs and fake noses, and NOBODY GOES TO THE BEACH. I just don’t understand.

And the weirdness doesn’t end there …

At Cranium, the editorial team joked that they had to do this all the time … but I didn’t realize it was actually possible. The guys from Mythbusters take on the task of polishing a turd. Watch the video to see if they succeeded. (Note: “success”, in this instance, is a relative term.)


Because we are a well-meaning, if occasionally misguided, town, Seattle is considering banning the Bodies exhibit (you know – the one that features real, preserved bodies in a bunch of weird poses). While the folks behind the exhibit claim that they’ve used people who’ve died of natural causes whose next of kin could not be contacted, there’s rumors that they might be the bodies of murdered political dissidents. So … that’s creepy.



Okay, fine – this isn’t exactly a STINK that I need.

After all, I don’t need to spend several long hours being interrogated by Homeland Security. And I don’t need to be strip searched, and, most likely, cavity searched as well.

Still, these decals are just about the funniest way I’ve seen to make your suitcase distinguishable from the countless others that come sliding down the conveyor belt in baggage claim. It’s only $25 for a set of four decals: cocaine, piles of money, sex toys, and kidnapped flight attendant (which is my least favorite – I find it too disturbing). But while the price is probably more than worth a laugh, I suspect that these stickers are bound to get you into some serious trouble …

I can hear the latex gloves squeaking in anticipation. (Photo courtesy of

I can hear the latex gloves squeaking in anticipation. (Photo courtesy of