Soap Moguls Back In This Mother Bee-Eye-Itch

Put your orders in, suckas. Oldie and I are again attacking the soap market. Fresh bars of lemongrass delight, with an added dash of crushed pear seed to exfoliate your gentle exoderms, are now available at the bargain price of $3.00 per bar (actually, I think Old and I set the price at 2 bucks, but my beautiful sales rep and wifey, Syd Vicious, hiked the price up to speed up our retirement). They're selling like hot cakes, so act quick ya'll.

You can email orders to stumptownsuds@gmail.com, or, since we've forgotten our log in and password for that account, you can leave a comment here with your requests.

Word to the mother.....

A Necessary Clarification

Coming home from work today, bone-weary and sleep-deprived from my sixth straight shift in ZooDooLand (and still have four more to go before a day off...groan), I finally managed to crack open the ol' email account. Not having checked the blog for several days, I was quite surprised to see that I had dozens of vitriolic messages, berating Jeff and I for going soft, for turning the blog into a poster child for the Cute Revolution, for even thinking about discussing such subjects as love and girlfriends and babies.

Please...let me apologize on behalf of both Jeff and myself for this extreme oversight. We'll try not to let it happen again. This blog will attempt to maintain its hard-earned street cred by once more bringing it to you dirty and drunk like you've come to expect.

Fear not, we're still the same folks who wouldn't hesitate to put a blind autistic retard in a headlock. In fact, by the time you read this, the invitations to Kes and I's long-anticipated Afterbirth BBQ will be en route via snail mail (look for them by the end of the week, with all the usual info such as location, date, time, and types of spices to bring to the Placenta Potluck). Yes, we roll like that.

Thanks for bearing with us during our hour of darkness.

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In other news, a baby was born with a penis on its back. Makes you think twice about accepting when someone offers a piggyback ride or asks if you want to play horsey, doesn't it?

The Move

As I mentioned in my lengthy apology below, part of the reason I've been absent on this blog is because I recently moved and was without internet for a while. In the spirit of keeping the blog alive, as well as to keep our readers up to date on our lives, I thought I'd share "The Move."

Prior to moving, Syd and I had been living out of a room in an apartment I shared with another person. While the apartment was fairly nice, it didn't feel like ours, so we often confined ourselves to the 12x12 box upstairs, which quickly transformed into a big pile of clothes with a bed in the middle. After living like this for a few months, Syd and I made the decision to get our own place together.

After talking about it for a couple weeks, we finally got a list of vacant apartments and made an effort to view them. On our first day of looking, just before quitting due to being discouraged by what we had seen so far, we stumbled across a complex just off of Belmont. These apartments weren't on our "to see" list, but because it was listed in an apartment guide, and we were in the neighborhood, we figured it couldn't hurt to check them out. So instead of driving by, ready to go wallow in our sorrows at my roommates, we stopped and went to the manager's office. Unfortunately, nothing was available...or so we thought. The manager initially told us there were no vacant apartments, but after warming up to us and being infected by our cham, she decided to let us know about an apartment that could "possibly" be open upstairs. Apparently she didn't particularly like the prior applicants, so she showed us the apartment and urged us to fill out an application. We did, and within a couple hours, we were on the fast track.

Although the manager made it obvious she wanted us (actually, it was as if she hand-selected us), her aloof nature resulted in a somewhat delayed acceptance, as she forgot to push the application and call us back as soon as she had promised. After a few days of anxiously waiting (we even called once and it seemed like she didn't know who we were), Syd and I almost began to give up. Then...while we were at work, I got the call (we gave the lady Syd's number, so we both expected her to get the call). I walked on to the unit that Syd was working on and told her we had to take a drive. This was a surprise to Syd because, although she was just about to get off, I still had a few more hours left on my shift. She asked what I was talking about, and I told her we got the apartment. She lost it and pranced around the unit, doing a gypsy dance in front of her kids and coworkers. Apparently she was excited.

The deal was sealed, and Syd and I had our own place. I left work to sign papers and get a few essentials from my old apartment. However, because we were in the middle of our work week, and planning to go to San Francisco within the next week, we were unable to move much furniture into the place for a couple weeks. This, coupled with the fact we didn't have a big enough vehicle, we went without a bed for a while. So in the meantime, we camped in the living room on a pile of blankets. Although not the most comfortable, it was an kinda fun.

The apartment is located in a great part of town, not too far from restaurants, bars and shopping. But, despite being so close to the amenities, it is surprisingly quiet. We have a big courtyard that gets a lot of sun and has already been witness to some outdoor napping, a whiffle ball game and some kiddie-pool parties.

It took time, but we eventually started to make it home over the next couple months. We did a lot of price comparing at different stores (we loved City Liquidators, but "no fault Walt" just didn't have the right pieces of furniture) and eventually settled on furniture from IKEA, where we bought a desk (Syd put it together), couch, coffee table, bookshelf (actually, Syd bought this at Target), and one of the those shaded balls that you put a light bulb in and hang from the ceiling (yes, I know that's not the most articulate description, but what do you call them?). Now, after nearly three months in the apartment, we are finally feeling like it's home.

We recently had our first guests over for dinner (Syd made a bomb meal and was quite the wifey), and have also hung pictures on the wall. We even have dry erase boards to remind us of bills and chores to do (actually, we just write love notes and obscenities on them). And yes, we have internet (however, no cable...instead of watching TV, we play rummy and Jenga). Aside from having a nice space to live in, though, the experience has been great. A lot of people told us we should wait, fearing living together would be a burden to our relationship. However, it has turned out for the best...even better than I could have expected. Basically, I get to have a slumber party every night with the woman I love. It doesn't get much better than that.

The Ancient Potato Eaters Win

How appropriate.

The tied-winners of our most recent poll (asking what your 40 ounce malt liquor of choice is) run parallel with Jeff and I's cultural backgrounds. He's a leprechaun-faced, fuck-the-Brits, Once-obsessed, Mickey's-drinking Irish folker. I'm a rambling, geezer-toothed, shitty-diapered, wisdom-spitting Old English head. And apparently, our audience is split right down the middle, each giving props to their respective chilled bottles at a hefty 37% a piece.

-Tied at second with 12% of the vote each, we have our old standbys, Steel Reserve aka "211% Stronger" and St. "Crooked Letter" Ides. We've spent many a night together with these frothy dames.

-Unfortunately for the rest of our contestants, they each pulled in a whopping 0% of the thousands (or was that 8?) of votes received. The failures: "Hide from the Cops" Camo; Country Club, the Gentleman's Choice; Fake 40s (filled with watery swill, i.e. Coors); Some other equally tasty IQ depleter...not with this crowd; here we respect our elders and the wee-little peoples.

And what do our lucky winners receive? A trip to 40oz Heaven:

http://www.40ozmaltliquor.com/40ozarchive.html

Enjoy.

Final Push

Here it is, folks; our last concerted effort to revitalize the blog. Oldie and I have been seriously slacking for the last six months. I'm mostly to blame, as I've been without internet for the last few months, and prior to that was caught up in the beginning stages of being in love. Well, I now have internet and, while still being in love, am finding more time to catch up with my literary pursuits.

So, for our readers (if there are any more out there), we'd like to fill you in to our game plan. Oldie and I have given ourselves two months to prove to ourselves that we can re-capture our passion for blogging. If we can average about 10 posts per month through August (when Old has to start preparing for fatherhood), then we will continue with "Tales From the Stump." If we do not meet this goal, then our once revered blog will be no longer.

In the next two months, please visit the blog and leave as many comments as possible. This will let us know that people are indeed still reading our ramblings. Also, it will give you a chance to provide feedback in the way of suggestions, thus letting us know if we should continue and, if so, what kind of changes we should consider making.

Alright bombaclots, stay posted. We're back with a vengence...at least for the next two months. Keep it pimpish.....

Did It Me-Self Bookshelf

Taking advantage of a very brief lull in the icy, spirit-dampening rainstorms of late, I busted out the box of spray paint that had been laying dormant since my graffiti-filled youth, and tackled a project that had been on the queue since last fall. Jeff and I had taken a trip to the local mecca of hardware/fixtures re-use, The ReBuilding Center, in search of molds for our soap venture, only to come across a massive heap of sad, abandoned desk drawers in a musty, damp corner of the cavernous warehouse. Inspiration sparked, and I quickly purchased four bright-pink, Formica-laced matching drawers ($4!), and took them home where I promptly forgot about them (a mind focused solely on becoming a soap-mogul refuses to become distracted). Anyway, time passed, and there was this pause in our shitty Northwest drizzle, so I cracked out the paint, dusted off the shelves, screwed them together in an interlocking alternating fashion, then applied many many coats of, I believe, Colonial Blue Rusto, embellishing this monument to our damp grey-blue skies with swollen, leaking rain clouds. The finished product, stocked with literary goodness:


Which brings me to the point of this post (aside from shameless back-patting for how good the project turned out); I think that I've finally let Portland's D.I.Y. culture begin to permeate my mindset. More and more, I'm finding that when faced with some challenge around the house that would have normally sent me scrambling to IKEA (damn those Sweds) or Fred Meyer (not Nordstrom...sorry, Mac Dre reference) with wallet in hand, instead I often find myself looking at the problem from a more creative approach. Bored of my t-shirt? Make a stencil and paint a design on it. Ran out of soap? Make some. Running out of room for my OCD-like collection of books? Well, you get the picture (if not, see above). The benefits are numerous...aside from the obvious cost savings, you're keeping previously unwanted items out of landfills, supporting local businesses, and most importantly, participating in an act of creation rather than consumption...getting in touch again with my artistic side has certainly helped me slog through this winter (which felt unusually dreary), and has sparked my interest once more in photography and drawing, hobbies that I had unconsciously left at the side of the road sometime over the last few years.

In other words, go make something, you'll feel better about yourself for it.

[Thanks to Aurora for the photos, and her original post. Much love.]

Character Love

Not sure what childhood influence (Mom, was it the lead-based paint chip smoothies? Dad's mongoloid sperm?) resulted in our need to create "characters" such as these, but Dan and I have been working away at them for decades now.

Without further ado, please bear witness to Caveman Dan, the Savage Survivalist.

As a bonus to my long-time homebwoyns out there, here's an oldie, but goodie.

Old Gollum

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Now please direct your attention to our newest poll, asking you, our dear readers, which 40 ounce variety of lovingly handcrafted malted liquor you prefer on those nights when a six-pack of Pabst just doesn't cut it.

Catching Up

I'm not sure an apology would be appropriate for such a dismal effort in maintaining this blog. While Olde and I have our reasons, none should have kept us from writing at least 5-10 a month. Hopefully Olde's latest blog, as well as this from me, will reinvigorate us and our faithful readers, too (unless you've already given up on us and no longer visit our site)!

Anyway, as Olde mentioned, he's had to deal with moving, looking for a new job, preparing for a baby, and being a housewife. His excuses are definitely legitimate. Mine, on the other hand, are not as valid. In fact, there is only one real reason that I've been slacking: I'm in love and my head's in the clouds (one of the one's that looks like a castle). I know it shouldn't prevent me from writing, but since I've met Sydney, we have gone a total of three days apart (not including my trip to Colorado). As you can imagine, blogging has not been a priority.

So, in what may be a feeble attempt at re-sparking the literary greatness that is Tales From the Stump, we continue forth. The following is a summary of what I've been up to the last few months....

- Despite being in Portland for 2.5 years now, I've only been to the Oregon coast a couple of times. A couple months ago, I made my third trip. Syd and I went to Cannon Beach, where we did our best to find Chester Copperpot and One-Eyed Willy. We never found them, nor the Goonies, but we did have a good time chomping on some Dorittos, drinking wine, tossing the football around, and snuggling under a blanket. The only negative to this trip was our less-than-fulfilling dinner at Mo's. We were both in the mood for seafood, and fish and chips in particular. What we got at Mo's were perfectly cut, rectangular frozen fish sticks. It was quite disappointing.

- We've made a couple trips to Amboy recently. While the first trip was to introduce Syd Vicious to the folks, the trips have also served to clear our heads a bit and get some fresh air. In the process, Syd was able to witness an open mic at the Amboy museum; multiple nasty dogs from Wimpy; retarded roosters that cockle-doodle-doo at all hours of the day and night; Mike rant and rave about preverts; thousands of frogs having an orgy; and the daily coffee shop gossip session, where all the regulars meet downtown for espresso and the day's newest rumors.

- My best friend, Matt (aka Mixle, aka Cock Slinga), visited the Stump with his girlfriend, Tiffany. The four of us did the couples thing for much of the weekend, as we showed them around Portland trying to convince them to move up here. On the night they arrived, the four of us went to Dug Fir, where we caught up with some drinks by the fire. The next day we walked around the Pearl District, eventually settling in at Jameson Square where we watched Matt show off his parkour skills (this was one of the themes to their trip...Matt free ran all over the place. If you don't know what parkour or free running is, peep it on youtube. In short, it involves running up buildings, jumping and climbing over things, and doing flips.). While they were here, we also played some Scattegories at a park where Matt entertained us with his answers (apparently the word "mail" is a four-letter word that begins with "s." Also, in case you didn't know, mail is something you distribute). Anyway, they talked about moving up here, which gives me an instant hard-on thinking about.

- Also that weekend, H-Block was reunited as another old friend flew in to the Stump. Yes yes, y'all, Tony the Armenian was in town (leaving only Ophir as the missing H-Block link). This time, however, he spared Portland his shenanigans and left no blood or police reports in his trail. We did all get together a couple nights, though, and shared drinks while talking about old memories. He was kind enough to let Old borrow his burglars mask for the night, as you can see in the picture here. If you know Tony, it wouldn't even occur to ask why he had a burglar's mask...that's just how he gets down.

-Syd and I recently bonded with some 40s. Well, I had a 40, Syd held it down with some 22s of Steele Reserve (no, not technically a 40, but she proved she can definitely get down with some malt liquor). Naturally, we got hyphy to some Bay Area slumpers, played some cards, danced, fought, laughed, and told some of our less than proud memories from our high school years. While bumpin' the Yay Area slumpers, Syd got hyphy, went dumb, and did the gig. It was quite entertaining to see.

- Recently went to Cirque du Soleil. Syd and I got to see Corteo underneath the big-top, capping off a date night that also involved some bomb Italian at Iorio (while the food was good, the wait staff wouldn't leave us alone, as they constantly asked us how we were doing or if we needed anything. Their constant harassment caused me to lose focus, and I forgot to bring with me the bottle of wine that we bought). The main event was sicketating, though. The performance included acrobats, midgets, tumblers, and, from what I gathered from their magical ability to fly, gypsies. 'Twas a grand night, indeed...brilliant even.

In all, the last few months have been pretty fun and eventful. I'm sorry I haven't shared much in print, but I'll do my best to keep you all posted on happenings here in the Stump. After all...it is almost summer, which means Olde will soon break out his bike and boombox, 40s will be consumed at a higher frequency, and the sun will give us some much needed energy. It won't be long before you are all once again inundated with tales from the stump.

A bit of this, a bit of that...

Posts have become less than frequent lately, and I apologize to you, our loyal readers. I'm still out hitting the streets, e'y day all day, looking for work, and Jeff has a girlfriend, which if you know him, explains everything. As I'm beginning to become somewhat dispirited with my employment search (not sure if it's the economy, or just that I'm that goddamned overqualified, but I can't even seem to get a job tossing pizza, moving rental vehicles, delivering coffee, packing boxes, or bussing tables), I'll try and harness some of my lack of desire to search out crap work on Craigslist and deliver a few more posts before the month's demise.

-R.I.P. Lagniappe, the formerly wonderful restaurant serving up steaming plates of Cajun goodness...you will be missed. Kes and I discovered this place when it was a itty-bitty joint on Broadway and instantly fell in love. Emboldened by its success (or perhaps rising rent?), the owners moved the operation into a cavernous space on bustling Alberta Street. Unfortunately, patrons never really came through, and on many of our visits, the spot looked to be imitating a ghost town...this lack of support killed those crazy Cajuns, and now I'm left with nothing but impossible dreams of their mouth-watering beef brisket, pleasingly-acidic collard greens, Star Destroyer-sized Po'boys, and crisply-hot hush puppies.

-In related news, one of my favorite Ethiopian restaurants, Mudai, appears to have folded, as well. Our new apartment is much closer and I've walked past the sunken storefront many a time now, and have yet to see an Open sign. The doro tibs was magical. R.I.P. Mudai? Say it ain't so.

-An updated (well, 6 month old) photo of the killacat, Frisco, mean mugging ya'll sucka asses.

- Another Only In Portland item: In a recent Willamette Week article, Kyle Burris, a candidate for Mayor, stated the following as the most pressing issues facing Portland today..."The rampant gentrification, perpetuated by yuppie scum, and City Hall. The corruption of our culture, perpetuated by the goddamn hipsters." Another great response, this time by candidate Vladislav Davidzon (perennial winner of the Coolest Name Contest)..."The biggest issue facing our city is that our media believes that we can state the issues in 20 words or less." In. Your. Face. Media. Scum.

-A few interesting websites I've stumbled across recently.
UrbanEdibles ...for if I'm having a craving for free filberts. Make sure you peep the listing for "corn niblets," as it's delicious.

Basic Instructions ...a charming little comic, full of life, laughter, and possibly corn niblets.

Guerrilla Gardening ...please, if anyone is interested in teaming up to get this done, email me, and let's go botany bombing.

Iran Graffiti ...I love repressed, 20 years behind the times, graffiti. Most of these burners and tags remind me of the shit I came across in Chile a few years back. A lot of really bad pieces, but also a few good examples of delightful Banksy-inspired rebellion.

-I really like this photo of a man slowly murdering a tree outside of my former abode.

-Some art piece that snuck out of the gallery and grabbed my attention on a dismally dark and drunken December night. I couldn't but shed a smile.
Lots of love to you all, and stay with us, we'll get back on track soon. I hope.

Alaskan Bush Journey .2

Well, that was certainly more than a day or two, but who's counting...anyway, enjoy this second helping of photos from our trip to Alaska.

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First thing my father noticed upon entering town was this official City message board with a lovingly handcrafted note attached proclaiming that the water was currently unusable...though we continued to use it, and the nervous ticks have yet to diminish.

This cute little bugger is what's affectionately known as a Shit Lilly in these here parts. Put your nose in it and it really does smell like the crusty asshole of a dead hobo.

The typical trappings of an Alaskan porch: random beach finds, illegal whale bones, and a string of deceased weasels...for sale. My dad bought three.

This is Kes' father's home, one of the nicest in town. That's the boardwalk out front (PA doesn't have any cars, so no streets required). Below is a drift log we hauled into the back bay from a mile away, tied up and waiting to be chainsawed, then axed for firewood. That little row boat is David's primary form of transportation around town.

Me holding up a 75 lb. halibut. Note the rubber gloves, which are worn to ward off the notorious slime halibuts secrete...impossible to wash off and smells like Hoggle's earwax.

My dad's slightly bigger fish (he was sure to rub that in the entire trip). This picture was taken moments before the gaff hook slipped out of my hands and impaled my fathers paunch, located above that ridiculous cock-guard he's wearing. I won't say it was on purpose, but that thing was pissing me off.

The group showing off the day's catch. Our friend and guide Ryan in the back, then from L-R, Squirt, Old, Pops, Kes. Lot's of meat that we're still eating on (email me if you want some, as I'm dying to be able to put some ice cream in my freezer once more).

Pops spending some quiet time alone in the Back Bay via The Skiff. It seems peaceful, but he returned with 3,472 mosquito bites and itched like a scabies victim the remainder of the trip.