Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Hit & Run

While sitting in my parked car downtown, waiting while my husband took care of something quickly, I was hit... twice.

The first time by the person parked in front of me leaving. They got into their vehicle, backed up, hit me and hurriedly pulled forward and left screeching into the street.

Soon thereafter another person pulled into the vacant parking spot, parallel parking his vehicle and hitting me as he was backing in. I waited for him to get out of his vehicle and say something to me, but he must have anticipated an ambush because he remained cowering in his vehicle.

Truly? No damage was done by either vehicle, but I have to say that I was surprised at the lack of admission. I don't doubt that they also figured no damage was caused, but certainly you would think people have the decency to get out and at least ask.

My husband arrived back at the car at this point, and because this car was parked so bloody close to me I had to get out to write down the license plate number:

As I wrote it down, I pointed to it and gestured towards the man in his car. He finally got out of his vehicle and walked over to me.

"Is something wrong?" he asks me.

"Yes, ... you hit my car."

"I barely tapped you," he snided.

"True, but not the point. The point is you hit me, and then sat in your car hoping I wouldn't say anything," I retorted.

"I didn't realize you were in the car, I was talking on my cell phone."

"You were on your cell phone while parallel parking???"


"No wonder you hit me!"

"I only barely tapped you."

"And like I said, while that is true you still didn't have the decency to say anything. Don't worry though, I got your license plate number, and make and model of your car." He looked quite scared.

I didn't have any intention of doing anything with it, but I figured to send him for a ride nonetheless.

"I'm really sorry," he pleaded.

"Well, ... if I may offer a suggestion. Next time don't cower in your car like a punk!" and I rolled up the window and we left.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Tomorrow is Easter

A bum, of course, is standing in the doorway of Fred Meyer pestering a Security Guard with his postulations as I was leaving today. He is literally standing in front of the door, taking up one half of the entrance. Anyone wanting to come or go at the same time as anyone else, must wait because he, like most everyone else, is busy busy busy worrying about himself.

Because he's standing in the doorway I have to wait for someone to enter before I can exit, and I overhear a portion of his soliloquy.

"I don't understand what's so cool about some guy getting nailed to a cross."

I need a minute to process this.

Now do you understand why I hate hobo's?

Saturday, March 15, 2008


So, we decided to see a movie the other night.

We haven't enjoyed our evening for a full 5 minutes before some fool walks in blabbing on his cell at a decibel level only the very adept at hearing animals in world, outside, 4 flights down can hear. What was he blabbing about? He was busy informing everyone that his favorite adjective, noun, subject, adverb and proposition is the F-word. He used the word in every possible context. He then followed up notification with an exposition of the stupidity of the movie being advertised on the before the actual show.

You know, I just want to see the story on the massive screen. I didn't come for the company of complete strangers. I didn't come on opening night because I anticipated that inevitably some idiot would ruin the viewing experience by running his mouth the entire film with a mirage of inappropriate comments that no one appreciates, especially, the people accompanying him - at least, that idiot hasn't failed me yet. I don't want to be subject to the painful monotony of your inept vocabulary.

So, this time I turn around and I say, "I appreciate (that you think you sound smart when you repeat the same word over and over and over again) that you use that type of language, but could you not be so loud?"

I can't remember a movie I've been to where I haven't told someone to shut up at some point, for some reason, and usually they just shut up or throw popcorn at me or whatever, but this alien... his eyes grew into his forehead. Immediately his face flushed an incredible fuchsia, and his knuckles turned white as he clutched his arm rests. This dude was seriously creepy.

I left for the bathroom, so unfortunately I cant tell you firsthand what happened next, but apparently this guys friend shows up, and our little creep head grows a chubby. No doubt purposefully, he starts recounting the story to his pathetic 4'8" mealy mustached friend, and they tell my husband 3x, "We are going to follow you out of this theatre, and beat the shit out of you." "Remember, we are going to follow you out of this theatre and beat the shit out of you!" "Don't forget we are going to follow you out and beat the shit out of you!" My husband came out to find me and of course we got our money back, and then we called the cops.

They hauled him out the theatre and handcuffed him.

Later, one of the side show policemen informs me, "Everyone has a right to free speech."

No way, really?

"You're in downtown Portland, people are going to say "bad words"." Highlighting bad words with finger quotes as he spoke."

Is that what this is about, bad words?

"This is downtown, 2 or 3 people get stabbed everyday down here."

So, point of the story: It's no big deal if I'm the person stabbed! By the way, my part of town, between the first of the year and the end of February there were only 22 shootings.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Breaking Up

So, while it's never easy to end a relationship - I've never quite heard it put this way before.

While walking to work I overheard a girl on her cell phone screaming, "So, are we together or not?"
"Fine, then it's over!"

This has prompted my curiosity to hold a contest. Post your breakup stories as comments to this blog by March 31; this gives you two and a half weeks to enter. Everyone will vote for their favorite by way of polling once the contest ends; I will add a poll to my blog, that's how it works.
The most unusual breakup story will win.... wait for it.... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Once I get my first comment/breakup story I will unveil what the prize will be!
Happy sweeps!

Wednesday, March 5, 2008


I started listening in on this story today when I heard overheard a woman say, "You know what evacuation means right?"

She was talking to a young man, who I would guess was black/african american/dark european (no one take offense), and in no way, and at no point illustrated that he didn't speak or understand the english language.

She was white, early elderly age, dark large 80's style glasses with greasy blonde hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail, then jerked back out towards the front until it settled as if she got mad at her hair and wanted to punish it for being naughty.

Her story continued about the 60's storm at the coast. "I could see the eyes of the children,... and,... my own! I could see my own eyes,... and all those eyes were scared!"

She proceeded to talk about how everyone in the city had to move to higher ground. "Do you know what that means? Everyone had to go up into the hills, up h - i - g - h."

At this point I realized the young man didn't know her, and he didn't want to be part of this conversation, and he was looking for a way out.

"You know what they called this? This storm that is going down in the history books? Costal,... Thunderstorm,... Gale,...."

The young man walked away at this point. He just simply said bye, lifted up his right hand halfway and shrugged.

She didn't even notice.

"One thing I learned, never put freezing hands in hot water! Never! Big mistake, big mistake!"

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Monkey Business

There is a stairwell at the top of my building that goes no where but to the top of the roof. And no one has access to the top of the roof. No one but the hobo that spilled yellow nail polish all over the hardwood stairs, and is apparently living up there.

I now know where she hid the clothes she stripped off as she was running from and screaming at me when I encountered her in the hall.

Fortunately we had another chance meeting on the train. See, the train is free downtown so it serves a double purpose. Entertainment for me, and a free ride for every one else. She stood outside the train, tore off her jacket, and from outside threw it onto the train. Then, she long jumped after it onto the train. Once she retrieved it, she screamed and threw it away from herself off of the train.

This went on for a few more times before the conductor came out to see the show. At this point she decided it would be fun to start climbing the pole in the center of the train and show every one her dirty stained panties.

I only wish that she had yelled, in a squirrel like voice, "Hoobastank!"