Yeah so I’ve been busy. When I decide to get involved in stuff, apparently I don’t fuck around. I’m working my job, I’m starting my own business, I’m volunteering for the Democrats, I’m volunteering for a public art project, I’m doing slightly paid but not well work for the Downtown Association (see the super-rad new walking map’s website here), and I just applied to be on the board of an industry association. Criminy. You’d think I wasn’t a lazy schlub who loves her some couch surfing more than anything else in the world.
Oh, and we’re still doing the ridiculously insane exercise deal. Almost three months down. And I’m still swimming in fat pants but not buying new ones yet. I’m just walking around looking like a clown or a toddler (depends on the shoes).
I actually managed to split the seat of the pants I was wearing yesterday. Having done that before because my duds were too tight, I found it funny that it happened because they were too loose. I was in the bookstore and I crouched down to look at a book on the bottom shelf. And the seat of my pants, riding as it was mid-thigh, wasn’t inclined to stretch that way. Awesome. Nothing makes you happier to be alive than having an entire store of people on their lunch break hear your ass break free of your pants. I guess at least it’s good I wasn’t leafing through porn magazines when it happened.
So. ORbike did a cool little profile on me and didn’t make me sound like too much of a jackass. Here’s the link.
And here’s a crapload of links to Mercury reviews since the last time I barfed up a load of reviews. Speaking of barf, come ON, Portland. Decent theater really isn’t that hard to make. My standards have been sufficiently lowered by living out here for a few years now. I’m not looking for genius. I’m just looking for better than a sharp stick in the eye.
Scotland Road
Dreamgirls
The Importance of Being Earnest
Tales of Ordinary Madness
The Clean House
I swear I’m not a blog stalker! But I do love your blog. I was just reading part of this post to G (because I was laughing out loud and felt the need to share) and further out-loud laughing ensued… especially regarding the clown/toddler look.
My comment is that I love that your writing sounds just like a conversation with you.
G’s comment is that you probably really were looking at porn when your pants ripped. Either way, thanks for a laugh.
I’ve thought about that moment since and wished I’d had the presence of mind to make a scene. Like what if I’d been in the self-help section, my pants split, and I just started sobbing and throwing paperbacks about “finding your bliss”?
I really should get those pants mended. They’re good pants.