7.22.2008

Kennedy School

For those unfamiliar with Portland, we love our movies. More specifically, we love our movie theaters. And to go further, we love our funky, second-run and independent film playing theaters. The McMenmin brothers capitalized off of this when they combined their success in the brewpub industry with that of local love for cinema. In addition to their numerous pubs, they started opening movie houses by the dozens (maybe not that quickly, but they probably outnumber Starbucks...although that's not hard to do in Portland). These pub/theaters show independent and second-run movies at a much discounted price: $3.00. What's more, they serve up locally crafted beers to be sipped (or chugged) while sitting in front of the big screen.

One of the more popular brewpub/movie houses is the Kennedy School. Originally an elementary school, dating back to its opening in 1915, the building at 5736 N.E. 33rd Ave closed in the 1970s due to declining enrollment. In the late 90's, the McMenamin brothers snatched up the property and decided to sell beer and movie tickets at the location. What a novel idea. During the renovation of the property, they added space for a couple bars (one is in the old detention hall), a restaurant, an area for private parties, a dozen hotel rooms, a soaking pool, and a movie theater (in the old cafeteria).

A few weeks ago, Syd and I went to see a movie there. While walking around, giving ourselves a tour, we stumbled across one of the employees who was just finishing the cleanup of an empty room. As he walked out of the room, we tried to get a peek inside. He noticed our interest and let us in, while also informing us that they had one room left for the night (hint hint). Syd and I, in the interest of spontaneity, decided to snatch it up and stay the night. Who cares that we didn't have our toothbrushes or a change of clothes?

The rooms look like old classrooms, with chalkboards and all (you can imagine some of the naughty things we wrote with the provided chalk...think immature hangman). The hallways resemble how they would have 50 years ago, giving it an eerie feel of little school kid ghosts running up and down the corridor. The restaurant and bars have a lot of character, too. We ate in the restaurant before seeing a movie (which we enjoyed with a pitcher of beer), and afterwards took shots in the bar. While stumbling back to our room, we managed to grope the statues in the hallway, climb the fire steps leading to the roof, and convince an employee (who took our picture) that we've been pen pals for five years and just met for the first time that night. It wasn't long before we crashed and had to vacate the room the next morning. Although the hangover wasn't pleasant, the stay was well worth the money.

7.16.2008

Glacier

While we're on the topic of road trips and national parks, I thought I'd share the highlights of a recent trip Syd and I took to Glacier National Park. Located in the northern part of Montana, just south of the Canadian border, Glacier boasts some of the most beautiful scenery I've seen. The park is full of mountain goats, grizzly bears, little merganzers, and, yes, glaciers too (only 28 remain, though, from 150 a century ago).
Syd and I hit the road for Montana on a Wednesday night, just after ending our work week. Thinking it would take just 9 hours, we (I) thought a 10pm departure time would get us to the park at 8am, just in time to get the primo camping spots. What I forgot to take into account, though, is that, one, I drove like an old lady and, two, I like to sleep when it's late and dark. So, after a couple hours of driving, and not even making it outside of Oregon, I had to rest. Being the stubborn person I am, I refused to relinquish the car keys to Syd, so my need to rest turned into "our" need to rest. We pulled over at a trucker stop and slept for about an hour and a half.
After hitting the road again, we only made it another hour and half before I had to sleep again. After finding another truck stop, we pulled over and slept for a couple hours until the sun rose. Upon waking, as if being blessed by the grace of god, we found ourselves beside Templin's Way-In, a trucker stop paradise, where you can stock up on all your junk food needs, get a greasy breakfast, load up on gas, and get your fill of caffeine. If the sarcasm wasn't obvious, let me tell you how terrible this place was. First of all, it is the same truck stop that you find on some desolate, dusty road in Texas, as well as the one you find while lost on a rural highway in Arkansas. Yeah, that one. Now, with only two needs to satisfy (to potty and get caffeine), we figured even Templin's could not fail. Upon filling our first need, using the bathroom, I found racist writing and other various redneck propaganda sprawled all over the walls. When leaving the bathroom, and meeting Syd in the market, we attempted to fill our second need: caffeine. Even this became tough, as the coffee was served out of an automated machine, marketed as cappuccinos. We got our cups, placed them under the dispenser spigots, picked the flavor of cappuccino, and hit play (or serve, or start now...whatever). As if being witness to the early wonders of the industrial revolution, this cappuccino machine started squirting boiling water into our cups, and then without warning, spewing a snowy blizzard of cappuccino dust all over the place (some made it in the cup). When the dust cleared, and we realized we were no longer interested in a cappuccino, we asked the clerk if they just had regular coffee and real creamer (they only had non-dairy, powdered creamer on display). She made it clear that if we didn't pay for the cappuccino, and pile of brown snow that came with it, she'd call Vern, the longtime, bitter sheriff who would most certainly hunt us down on the desolate highway and let us know what the locals think of city folk driving through their little stretch of town (squeal like a pig, boy). So, mostly out of fear of aforementioned (fictionalized) Vern, we reluctantly bought the cappuccinos and split.
From Templin's, we drove straight to Glacier, filling our time with the alphabet game, talking into our tape recorder, and making fun of my slow driving. During this time, I was impressed with Syd's ability to tell me when to pull over so she could pee on the side of the road (how could you not love a girl who uses a car door as cover while she pisses on the side of the highway?). We finally made it to Glacier at about 3 in the afternoon (only 7 hours off our mark). Upon our arrival, we learned from a ranger that most of the campgrounds were closed due to snow (did I mention this was in May/June that we went?), as well as many of the hiking trails and the main road (the Going to the Sun Road is one of the most scenic drives in the country) cutting through the park. I almost cried. It was all made better, though, as the ranger gave Syd a junior ranger pin, stating that it would give her the power to scare grizzly bears away.
Anyway, we drove up the road a little bit to the Sprague Creek campground. Because of the weather conditions, tourist season hadn't yet started, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves. We found a great site situated just off of Lake McDonald. We set up camp (actually a village, fully intact with a hanging tarp for rain protection, a tent, and a little kitchen/dining room setup) and began to plan our stay. Before too long, though, I felt the need to freshen up after the long, sweaty drive. Without much thought, but definitely against Syd's motherly advice not to, I hopped in the glacier-fed lake. It didn't matter that it was about to rain and wasn't that hot out. What did matter, though, was that I nearly got hypothermia and was so delirious from the cold that Syd had to instruct me how to dress myself after drying off. Scary.
After they hypothermia scare, Syd and I got firewood and began to get dinner and a fire together. Because of the wet weather, much of the wood was damp and not very flammable. This required us to burn more crossword puzzles than we would have liked. While the fire burned and we munched on chips and salsa, Syd and I played rummy and cherished the high of knowing we were away from work and civilization for 5 days. After getting my butt kicked, as is usually the case, we decided to cook up some kielbasas over the fire. First, though, we had to find some rurey sticks to wield (widdle) as skewers. With pocket knives in hand, we widdled like mad and got our cooking utensil ready. The kielbasas didn't take much time to cook, and before long we were on to desert, making s'mores with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. The cleanup that night was pretty intense, as Syd was certain that the local grizzlies would all be attracted to any scent coming from our campground. So we made sure everything but our tent and sleeping bags was in the car, as well as every bit of food crumbs or spilled cooking juice cleaned up. Her diligence to keep the bears away was equally cute and hilarious (more of this to come later).
On our first morning waking up in Glacier, we took the opportunity to sleep in and catch up on some sleep. By the time we woke up, it wasn't really morning and, in fact, we were the only one's left in the campground because everyone else had packed up and moved on with their day. While I got our supplies ready for the days hike, Syd made us sandwiches. We eventually set out for a drive to the Avalanche Lake trail head, where the Going to the Sun Road closed due to weather conditions. Along the way we stopped to take pictures of a river and waterfall, while also waiting for thunder and lightening to rumble our way. It didn't really happen, but we got a couple good pictures (albeit with some degree of difficulty, as a couple tourists had a hard time relinquishing their vantage point, and took offense to us requesting to take a picture). Anyway, we continued along and eventually hit the trail to Avalanche Lake. By this time, it had started to rain, so Syd and I put on our rain gear and marched on. We hiked along the trail through thick forest, alongside a creek, and amidst deer, mountain goats and grizzly bear. The fact that grizzly bear were in the area can not be substantiated, but Syd's ability to scare them away with yells and clapping noises at 2-minute intervals certainly kept us safe from what dangers did exist by their presumed presence. We got a little wet, but the hike was nice and oddly unique in the sense that we encountered a few strange folk. First, we briefly walked alongside a couple who were in the area for a computer convention. Actually, only the guy was there for the convention; she flew out to meet him for the weekend. The man, overweight and ill prepared for a back country hike, sported expensive sandles that had already allowed the rainy mud to soak into his socks. His girlfriend, equally as odd, and eerily resembling an alien, looked like she had endured 17 plastic surgeries. In addition, her blush looked more like she lost control of her lipstick and drew circles on her cheeks. At least they made it to the lake, for without them we would not have had our picture taken.
While taking in the view of glaciel fields, rugged peaks, and crazy mountain goats, we munched on some rurey snacks and sipped on some wine. It was a perfect location for a picnic, but unfortunately the rain kept our stay to a minimum. We hiked our way back to the car and headed back to camp, where we made dinner, played some cards, and poked at the fire with our rurey sticks.
The next morning we drove out to East Glacier, where, upon the advice of our camp hosts (who were really fucking awesome, by the way), we camped at the Rising Sun campground alongside St. Mary's Lake. The view from our tent was unbelievable. We had an unobstructed view of the mountains that sat above the lake (which was only a hundred yards away from us). This was our base camp for the night. During the day, we hiked to St. Mary Falls. This was a beautiful hike that led us around the lake, through creeks that fed it, and to a waterfall that rumbled through the rocks with amazing force. When we reached the waterfall, we sat for a bit, snacked, and talked about how fortunate we were to be able to take off on a moment's notice and go to Glacier. We truly were blessed.
After spending the night at Rising Sun, we headed back to Sprague Creek for our last night. Because of how friendly our camp hosts had been our first couple days there, we decided to spend our last night back at Sprague, where we could visit some with them and tell them about our trip to East Glacier. We set up another village, as it was raining and we needed cover. When the village was complete, we played some cards and enjoyed the sound of the rain hitting the tarp, while also overlooking Lake McDonald as the rain created thousands of little ripples in the water. Before it got dark, our camp hosts came by for a quick visit. With them they had cupcakes that they had made. Knowing that we were in the mood for some fresh baked desserts, they gave us a couple and wished us a good night. Syd and I finished the night with some rurey making, some good conversation around the fire, and a sad farewell to Glacier. On our way out the next morning, we caught up with the camp hosts, exchanged emails, and told them we'd see them again next year.
The drive home was a sad one...and very long. The good news is, we accidentally stopped at Templin's Way-In, for we were low on gas, starving, and had no other options. This time we stayed long enough to get a meal, which was cooked by the waitress who was pissed that her cook had not yet shown up. After filling up, we were back on the road and, before too long, returning to Portland.

7.11.2008

Arches/Zion/Bryce/Grand Canyon Flicks No.2

Here continues my selection of photos from Kes and I's trip earlier this year to the Southwest. See the previous post for more details.

The Navajo Loop Trail in Zion. Simply awe-inspiring.


Chilly evening in Bryce.

Hoover Dam.

The Grand Canyon.

Yuma Prison. Run Russell Crow, run.

Pure Americana. Stare long enough and you can almost hear the heavy metal.

7.08.2008

Arches/Zion/Bryce/Grand Canyon Flicks No.1

Earlier this year, Kes and I decided to head out on one last big road trip, knowing that gas prices were about to skyrocket and that the little one Kes was carrying in her rapidly expanding marsupial pouch would soon keep us housebound for at least the next year or two. We began by heading east on Interstate 84 towards Utah, our ultimate destination being the central Southwest and it's plethora of natural wonders, an area that we hadn't been able to squeeze into our epic six-month road trip back in 2003 due to empty bank accounts and our then-looming wedding. This time around we were only gone for ten days, but managed to visit several National Parks that had been tempting us for many years...Arches, Zion, Bryce, the Grand Canyon, along with a few that I had previously never heard of like Canyonlands, Great Basin, and Cedar Breaks. We stayed in hostels most nights, something neither of us had really done before, and fell in love with this more communal, less commercial, form of temporary residence. Here are a few pictures from the first half of our trip, with the second batch coming up in another post later this week.
[As always, click on the images to enlarge to their full beauty.]










7.06.2008

Gargoyle Park and Portland Pork


My homebwon Steve was in town many weeks back, coming up for his first visit to our fair City of Roses. Along with him came a cast of crazy motherfuckers, comprised of Maniac Lee, Nate the Coke Lord, DANDAVE, and Slumbering Brian (who, of course, napped the entire trip...next time you want to come up, you're uninvited...just kidding, I'll have plenty of pillows, blankets and chamomile tea waiting for you). Though it was a short visit, and I worked one of the days they were here, we still got deep into the lifeblood of the Stump.

We were faded the entire time, so details are fuzzy. Suffice to say, they greeted Jeff and I with cans of Pabst (what good Portlanders) upon our entrance into their room at the Jupiter Hotel...where they proceeded to display the most impressive drug collection witnessed by man since Hunter S. Thompson's infamous trip to Las Vegas. The room was soon destroyed with 707 area-coded and thizzzz-related chalk tags (thanks Jupiter, brilliant amenity!). Over the next few days we went on a whirlwind of fried dough, strip clubs, and assorted smoky dens of alcoholism. We attended the Blazers v. Mavericks game (Sergio hexed Dallas back to the Stone Age, and we loved it), smoked danky in the heat at Waterfront Park, checked out the view from Big Pink, and visited Yam Yam's, featured prominently in a Mac Dre (these guys are his disciples) verse on Cool Nutz's second album Speakin Upon A Million..."I met this bad bitch/she was comin' out of Yam Yam's". We walked around the city at 2am with four cases of shitty beer, drinking with any and all street denizens we happened upon, including a bike cabby, Tookie Williams' fellow death row inmate (not sure how he escaped a similar fate), and some guy named Glen, who was cool until he started trying to get Lee to molest him and throw him out a sixth story hotel window. We also brought forth our inner Gaaaarrrrgoyles and visited the Mecca of Gargoyles aka Mill Ends Park (henceforth known as Gargoyle Park by our fellow acolytes)...there we paid homage to His Gargoyleness by sacrificing Glen's still-beating heart.

Oh, and did I mention the cops? No trip to Portland is complete without a firsthand experience with the unchecked brutality of our local boys in blue. Stumbling past the clubbing crowds near the Skidmore Fountain MAX stop on our way to the Steel Bridge, out of nowhere, as if magically initiated by a finger snap from the God of the Police State, at least a dozen bacon-wrapped cops appeared, dressed in black armor and equipped with riot shotguns, and homed in on a single unidentified black man, hitting him with mace and Tazers, without warning and seemingly without any provocation or reason whatsoever. They then proceeded to rough him up...all the while a massive crowd is forming, we're filming video and taking pictures, the pork patrol is telling us it's illegal to videotape police operations, we're telling them it's actually not, Maniac Lee is trying his damnedest to get any cop within view to shoot him in the stomach with a plastic shotgun pellet, I'm shouting out the name of James Chasse (a relatively recent victim of unprovoked police murder) and Kendra James...thankfully, cooler heads amongst us prevailed and we slowly walked off before arrests began to occur. Steve recently posted video of the attack, taken from his cell phone, on YouTube (search Crooked Portland Cops, or click here for videos 1 and 2)...the quality's pretty, well, cell phone-ish, but you can certainly feel the chaos erupting.

Thanks for coming up, homeloccs.

6.30.2008

Rapture Rhapsody


Though the situation in which this originally came up in discussion has since been lost to the fog of an old man's memory, I thought I'd share the eternally cheerful lyrics of a fundamentalist rapture tune that my father used to urge his Christian flock to sing. Anyone who knows my Pops now would be hard pressed to imagine him as a preacher man, but indeed he was...creepy aviator glasses that would have made David Koresh proud, creased/dog-eared/note-filled black leather Bible, Serpico-style bushy black beard, and the myriad other trappings of a crazed Sin-Saver. Sometimes for a good laugh, I picture him once again dressed up like this, frantically belting out this heart-warming song:

I Wish We'd all Been Ready

Life was filled with guns and war
and everyone got trampled on the floor
I wish we'd all been ready

Children died the day grew cold
a piece of bread could buy a bag of gold
I wish we'd all been ready

There's no time to change your mind
The Son has come and you've been left behind

A man and wife asleep in bed she hears a noise
and turns her head he's gone
I wish we'd all been ready

Two men walking up a hill one disappears and
one's left standing still
I wish we'd all been ready

There's no time to change your mind
The Son has come and you've been left behind

Life was filled with guns and war
and everyone got trampled on the floor
I wish we'd all been ready

Children died the days grew cold
A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold
I wish we'd all been ready

There's no time to change your mind
How could you have been so blind
The father spoke the demons dined
The Son has come and you've been left behind.

Almost makes me want to start going back to church to get my fear on.

6.24.2008

Everyone needs a kiddie pool

With the longest day of the year just behind us, we are officially in summer. Although that just means Portlanders can now expect approximately 12 days of sun before the 10-month winter rains begin again, it is still time to rejoice. And what better way to celebrate than to risk skin cancer and soak in some Vitamin D (it cures colon cancer...I just read it in the paper).

On a recent weekend in which temperatures soared into the 90s for two full days (that takes care of 30% of our allotted sun for the year), Syd and I did our best to fully energize our solar plexes. It was a two-day adventure that resulted in 12th degree burns, near fatal traffic mishaps, and a lot of cursing (ironically, wishing the rain would just come back). I'll explain all of this in depth below.

Day one:
Syd and I went to Freddy's, where we realized all of our shopping dreams. We bought a cooler (for beer to dehydrate us, and water to rehydrate us), a whiffle ball and bat, a hacky sack, a tennis ball with accompanying velcro mitts, beach towels, and some snacks. After navigating through the hordes of people who also take great pleasure in shopping at Fred Meyer, we set off for Sauvie Island. For those not familiar with Sauvie Island, it is an oasis just outside the city. Indeed, it is an island, mostly inhabited by hippy farmers, but also home to some great country scenery, as well as small beaches. After getting lost in some farmland, Syd and I finally found a beach. We parked, sans permit (we wrote a note for the rangers, informing them we didn't know where to purchase them), and took our goods to the sandy shore. Because of the heat, and mostly due to my sweet, sensitive Irish skin, we were pretty diligent about applying sun screen...sort of. Somehow I managed to protect my back, shoulders, face, neck, and legs with lotion, but I forgot to apply sunscreen to my stomach, chest, feet, and the top of my hands. I didn't realize this was a problem, though, because Syd and I were too occupied playing catch with our velcro mitts and forming our own floater mob gang (simply done by getting enough people in the water on floaty devices...however, they must display certain carefree, gypsy-esque, and slight pirate qualities). By the time we got done picnicking, playing with our various novelties, doing a crossword, playing in the cold water (Syd discretely warmed the water with her pee...thanks, babe), and despising the growing crowds, I noticed a sharp pain on my hands, feet, and front torso. I also noticed a curious and alarming change in color on my skin. What's more, this new, red coloring on my skin had finger prints, marking where I had applied sunscreen to the rest of my body, but leaving a vulnerable void on the other half. Yes folks, I was burned. Syd managed to escape the sun's wrath because, for one, her pigment allows her to tan and, secondly, she was smart enough to put sunscreen all over her body. While our field trip to the Island of Sauvie was an enjoyable one, I'm still debating whether the weeks of snowing dead skin from my chest and stomach was worth it. Oh well....lesson learned.

Day two: After sufficiently frying my skin and over-energizing our solar plexes the day before, we needed a down day. Even though I was in extreme pain, and not able to completely stretch out my body for fear my skin would rip off, I still felt the need to enjoy the sun. That was before 11 am, though, when the heat was still fairly tolerable. By noon, we were at a loss for an escape route from the sun. Our apartment was bloody hot, and if we went outside, we would have melted; also, I could not handle going to a movie or the mall, despite the temptation of their air conditioners. After cursing the heat for an hour or so, and realizing we were close to getting so grumpy we would soon start kick-boxing each other, we had to do something. Gelatto sounded good and refreshing, so we took off to NE 28th Avenue and hit up Stecatto Gelatto. After devouring our faux-Itallian treats, we drove to a forested park, where we thought we'd be able to nap in the shade. However, even the 90 degree shade was untolerable, so, thanks to Syd's brilliant idea, we went to Fred Meyer to find what they had to offer for alternatives to heat stroke. Syd bought us a kiddie pool without any hesitation. In our immediate fulfillment, we didn't realize that this thing was too big to put in the back seat of her car, nor did we have any way of tying it down. So, as we lugged the hard plastic shell through the parking lot, we discussed what would be the best way to get it home. In our infinite wisdom, we figured we could just put the pool on top of the car, roll the windows down, and each grab a side to hold it down. And that's what we did. With the hard shell on top, now making the car look like a turtle, we drove up 39th Avenue to our street, barely making it home without causing some traffic snafu. Without delay, we placed the pool on the lawn behind our apartment complex, filled it up with water, grabbed a couple beers, and hopped in. And how joyous it was. It didn't matter that we looked liked a couple go-tards hanging out in a kiddie pool outside of an apartment complex, for we found refuge from the heat. I would seriously recommend you all go out and get one yourselves.

On both of these hot days, we were able to stay out late and enjoy the clear skies and cooler weather at night. To make ourselves look even nerdier, we camped outside the apartment complex at night and looked for UFOs. We didn't see any, but we did see bumbs scuffle by, as they collected bottles and cans from our dumpster. This was enough to take the party inside, ending our first weekend of summer fun.

6.21.2008

Holding it Down in the Stump


My brother Dan (aka MC Roofless, one half of the world-renowned Weapons of Mic Destruction) rolled through the City of Roses a few weeks back, fresh off a trip to Seattletown, fiance Marie and friend Colleen in tow. It was Marie's first time in the Stump, so we had to hit the streets hard, embarking on a non-stop whirlwind tour of all the city has to offer...after thinking of all the shit we did and jotting down some infamous "Old's Notes" (keep an eye out for scanned copies in a future blog post), I realized only a literary genius or someone with untold hours of leisure time could squeeze a detailed and descriptive narrative out of this mess of an activity list. Instead, I'll simply reproduce the list below, in full, and add a few colorful bits of commentary wherever I deem necessary...

Their week in Bridgetown in no particular chronological order:

-Hotel Monaco...Colleen works for this chain of hotels and was able to put Dan and Marie up for mere pennies. Though not much time was spent here, we did appreciate the French/Arabic/Northwest vibe and the free wine/beer/martini/massage/canvas painting-filled happy hour. The owner of Voodoo Doughnuts was also on hand, setting up shop next to the booze, handing out freebies (There is a God!). Of course, we both grabbed a Bacon Maple bar, the equivalent of a complete breakfast in each bite. "I recommend a BM a day," he spake. We concur, good friend.

-Chin Yen...the best goddamn Chinese food in Portland. But really, the green tea is extra? Seriously? That's like paying for hot sauce at a taqueria; it just isn't done.

-Stumptown Coffee..."and on the eighth morning, the Lord figured he'd like the most delicious cup o' joe, and he created Stumptown." Genesis 1:29.

-Costello's Travel Cafe...euro vibe, good coffee, good enough.

-Kes and I found out we're having a boy. We've named him Jasper. He already hates us for it. Hey, it's better than Sue.

-Staccatto Gelatto...the tasty flavors of ice cream's cousin sure hit the spot on a very warm day, one of four we're likely to have all year.

-Columbia Gorge...we made a day out of this, motoring up into the hills on the old Colombia River Highway, stopping at the Crown Point overlook, Latourell (my personal favorite), Upper Horsetail and Multnomah Falls (second tallest in the States). We attempted to get arrested at the Bonneville Dam, and admired the whale-sized sturgeon guarding the fish hatchery.

-Stood by helplessly as Dan purchased a Bluetooth Cyborg Cochlear Implant for Marie. I now officially hate her and Dan for populating this earth with one more of those pieces of Mongoloid Machinery.

-Marinepolis Sushi Land...cheap sushi, cheap tempura, cheap sake, FREE green tea...Haaaaii!!!

-Citybikes...great bike repair/parts shop. Unfortunately, they don't sell bikes, losing out on a few hundred bucks from my wallet. Dan tried to become an apprentice mechanic, but they sneered at him to get the fuck out.

-Upper Playground...Frisco-based T-shirt shop/art gallery (did anyone see the wonderful Usugrow show?...it was off the chain-link fence). I recently purchased a mock Sesame Street shirt, that reps our local Couch (that's Cooch, for you's not knowin') Street, featuring the show's cast swigging Old E and smoking crack pipes. Got to be a role model for the baby boy, right?

-Crema...my favorite coffee joint, serving Stumptown and homemade nuggets of pure delight. The kalamata olive bread is not to be slept on.

-Pioneer Courthouse Square...checked out the Festival of Flowers. An interesting enough temporary addition to the city's living room.

-Laurelhurst Park...our very own mini-Central Park. Met up with my homie Robinson Crusoe the Raccoon. He looked so lonely, I just wanted to swim out to his island and rescue the poor little mammalian castaway.

-Kes took Dan to the Saturday Market, the Hollywood Farmer's Market, and a HOST housing fair (where we might be purchasing a house...maybe?) while I wasted away at work, taxiing monkeys around at ZooDooLand.

-Checked out the new "hydro park" in the Sabin neighborhood up the street...not worth the hike, but we were dizzy drunk and just happy to be moving. Unfortunately, our Speedo swimwear was completely unnecessary, as Raging Waters this was not. We did take a dip in the drinking fountain to cool off.

-The Italian Joint...waxed nostalgic about about our homeland while guzzling olive oil and hearty mountains of pasta. I love this place, but the prices are starting to get out of hand. Chalk it up to the rising cost of oil and food, I s'pose.

-Buffalo Exchange...bought a gently used suit for 20 bucks. No complaints.

-Multnomah County Library...discussed religion and philosophy with a trio of homeless heroin junkies while slurping Tom Kah Gai from my favorite Thai food cart. Obviously, my library is better than yours.

-Cellar Bar at Ringler's Annex...this French Resistance hideout/speakeasy is such a great place to drink McMenamin's shitty beer. At least Tony wasn't lurking about this time, smashing bathroom mirrors and acting all Armenian.

-Crystal Ballroom...I dragged the gang along to a fundraiser for music programs in Portland Public Schools. We were the only folks in the house over 18 (I'm not even going to elaborate on the irony of this). The initial acts (Typhoon, Shaky Hands, Y.A.C.H.T.) didn't win my companions over, but I managed to quell their budding rebellion and feel they enjoyed the second half of the show much better, nodding their wee little hip hop heads to the likes of State of Mind, Gray Matters, Sandpeople, and the unfuckwittable Blue Scholars. Is it just me or are these two cats the best act in the Northwest right now? Left right left/goes the pendulum...

-Powell's City of Books...this place is to bibliophiles what Mecca is to Muslims.

-Broadway Bar & Grill...I've been avoiding this place since it opened, believing it to be another yuppified den of over-priced food and drink on Broadway, and I can't say that I was far from the mark. The food was average and expensive, while the beer (organic, Old Market brew) was fairly hit or miss. However, we did order the sampler, and unsurprisingly, left the place feeling contentedly faded.

-Oregon Zoo...I was obligated to take them on a free tour of ZooDooLand. Unfortunately for Dan's-sake, there was nary a self-fellating critter to be seen. Next time, bud.

-Blue Nile...50lbs of Ethiopian food (an oxymoron right?) for $30. My kind of math. Not my kind of bowel movement, however.

-Ole Ole...best tacos in the Stump that don't come from a cart (that'd be the one on 122nd and Powell, in case you're wondering).

-Doug Fir Lounge...one of the best happy hours in the city, but a bit too hip (I'll put it this way...you'll feel guilty for not owning skinny pants and for showing up without prolific and "dangerous" neck tattoos) and much too crowded of late.

-Hollywood Burger Bar...the mother of all greasy spoons, this place has nothing but character going for it. Unfortunately, there was some gimpy children's parade and they were only doing a limited take-out menu. Next time, Dan.

-Voodoo Doughnut...hit up the SW original and the second location in NE. Same great fried dough, but not sure how their new "World HQ" is going to survive with almost no signage and very little visibility from Sandy Blvd. It was like the apocalypse when we visited. Empty school-desks in an empty room, our voices echoed in the dilapidated cavernous interior, and the only thing moving were the flies.

-Kennedy School...drank a pitcher of suds and for 3 bucks watched In Bruges, a surprisingly excellent film about midgets, dead kids, and Irish assassins. What's not to like?

-St. John's Twin Cinema...fulfilled what felt like 400 years of longing by finally witnessing a new Indiana Jones (and the Crystal Skull? Yuck.) film. Certainly ranks with the Temple of Doom in general crappiness, but this is our childhood, and damn it, we loved every second of it. Spoiler Alert: Watch for the aliens.

-Farm Cafe...the best burger in town, and it's a veggie burger. How very Portland.

-Ground Kontrol...while walking into this gamer's wet dream, we alternated between telling a British couple to "Feck off" and pissing our pants in the presence of one of the creepiest mental hospital escapees known to man. Swooping around like a bird, groaning profanities, and swinging a 12-foot rusty sword, this guy was ready to play some Qbert, but the doorman surprisingly blocked him from entering. We, on the other hand, stormed in, swilled Pabst, and beat The Simpsons on $2 worth of sweaty quarters.

-Of course, no trip to Portland is complete without a night at the Steel Bridge, where we inhaled a cheap six-pack of brewski and drifted away on the melodic tunage emanating from the infamous Boombox.

-Finally, somehow we also managed to squeeze in half a season of The Soprano's, a few hours of video games, a few test drives on my new hookah, and an awesome new art project that I'll be unveiling in a future post. Let's just say dragons and barbarians are involved.

Until next time, keep it soo fucking rell, Danny-boyo (& company, of course)...