I am a much more experienced drunk these days than I was when I started this stage of my life. I am still not a big fan of doing shots, or riding mechanical bulls (I value shoulder movement way too much to do that again) but can manage to listen to the inner voice of reason after several drinks.
I know I have mentioned prior that several of us go to Cowgirl's on a regular basis and swing around the stripper poles for fun. One friend has been taking pole dancing lessons for probably six months or so. What's the next step? The Dancin' Bare.
Last night was amateur night. We two girls went to see what amateur night was all about. Really, I went with my friend so she could see what amateur night was all about. I have no desire to take off my clothes in front of a bunch of strangers. Swinging around the poles fully clothed, no problem. In fact, I love it. Swinging around the poles naked, I don't think so.
While we were there, I met a very nice biker who wants to take me for a ride on his Harley. It's amazing what leather chaps and a chromed out Harley do for a guy on the 1 to 10 scale.
Another amazing thing... we weren't the only girls in there. I think this threw me the most, that a decent portion of the audience were normal women. So bottom line, my friend thinks she could win next amateur night. Stay tuned!
The problem with going to a strip bar is they play stipper music. Stripper music makes you want to dance, shake your ass, and swing around poles. But only strippers are allowed to dance in a strip bar. So voice of reason speaks up louder than the three Bacardi and Coke's I've had and off to Cowgirl's we go.
Fully clothed pole dancing... much better.
Making it home in one piece...fabulous.
Room spining when you lay down... not so good.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Survival of the Fastest
Today I woke up at 6 a.m. Not unusual except for today is Sunday. I do not roll out of bed on Sunday before I absolutely have to. Now, not only did I drag my ass out of bed at 6 but I laced up my running shoes and headed downtown to the Shamrock Run.
I am not a runner. I'm not really even a walker. I maybe averaged walking twice per week for the last five weeks. I signed up for this run with the best of intentions, planning to workout at least three times a week. Um, not so much.
Right about 8:05 they called for the 5K runners to line up. I walked with the thousands of others up to the start/finish line, and as soon as I crossed the blue timing mats I tried to pace myself slowly so I could run longer than usual before having to slow down and walk. It's difficult to maintain your own pace because there's people passing you so you want to go faster but you have to tell yourself not to. Finishing is what's important.
I actually ran the first mile and a half. The crowd cheering you on really makes a difference. As you run around the course and weave your way up Burnside and back over to Broadway, the hardcore drunks open the doors at the bar and yell for you. Running over Park Avenue all the homeless people stand up and cheer for you too. Not sure if it's the cheering or the smell but it does help you pick up the pace.
I only walked about a half mile up Broadway (it was uphill, it was difficult). I started running again once the course turned and we started working our way downhill towards Front Ave. I kept at it, and I so wanted to walk again but then once I got to Front I could see the huge flags that signified the Finish. I kept running, thinking there's the finish line. As I'm running up Front Ave., I notice more and more people are lining the street. I realize I don't want anyone to see how slow I'm actually running so I pick up the pace again.
I am waiting for my official time to get posted, but I think I finished in 40 minutes.
In true Portland fashion, everyone who finished got a free beer (Widmer) and a bowl of clam chowder (McCormick & Schmick's). And true to my roots, when I was done I went for a pedicure.
I am not a runner. I'm not really even a walker. I maybe averaged walking twice per week for the last five weeks. I signed up for this run with the best of intentions, planning to workout at least three times a week. Um, not so much.
Right about 8:05 they called for the 5K runners to line up. I walked with the thousands of others up to the start/finish line, and as soon as I crossed the blue timing mats I tried to pace myself slowly so I could run longer than usual before having to slow down and walk. It's difficult to maintain your own pace because there's people passing you so you want to go faster but you have to tell yourself not to. Finishing is what's important.
I actually ran the first mile and a half. The crowd cheering you on really makes a difference. As you run around the course and weave your way up Burnside and back over to Broadway, the hardcore drunks open the doors at the bar and yell for you. Running over Park Avenue all the homeless people stand up and cheer for you too. Not sure if it's the cheering or the smell but it does help you pick up the pace.
I only walked about a half mile up Broadway (it was uphill, it was difficult). I started running again once the course turned and we started working our way downhill towards Front Ave. I kept at it, and I so wanted to walk again but then once I got to Front I could see the huge flags that signified the Finish. I kept running, thinking there's the finish line. As I'm running up Front Ave., I notice more and more people are lining the street. I realize I don't want anyone to see how slow I'm actually running so I pick up the pace again.
I am waiting for my official time to get posted, but I think I finished in 40 minutes.
In true Portland fashion, everyone who finished got a free beer (Widmer) and a bowl of clam chowder (McCormick & Schmick's). And true to my roots, when I was done I went for a pedicure.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Queen of the Ryche
Cowboy has a rockin' side, similar to mine with a strong preference for music created in the Aqua Net and spandex era. One of his favorite bands is Queensryche so for his birthday I had bought him tickets to last weeks concert. Opening act... Don Dokken. Might I say that they have all aged really well. Don Dokken is still yummy although I think he might have traded his Aqua Net in for a flat iron.
Almost as entertaining as the concert was the audience! Rat tails, mulletts, and mall hair, oh my! The concert was at the Newmark Theatre and our seats were on the second level balcony with a spectacular view of the audience from above. Just so you know, yes, the people sitting in the balconies look at the top of your head when you're on the floor. I saw a lady that I swear she must have had the same hair style since Empire came out (that was 1990 for those who aren't members of the Ryche).
On another concert note, I heart Kenny! (Chesney that is). I won 5th row concert tickets to Kenny on the radio this morning. How will I catch Kenny's eye? Maybe I should've got that boob job instead of a sports car.
Almost as entertaining as the concert was the audience! Rat tails, mulletts, and mall hair, oh my! The concert was at the Newmark Theatre and our seats were on the second level balcony with a spectacular view of the audience from above. Just so you know, yes, the people sitting in the balconies look at the top of your head when you're on the floor. I saw a lady that I swear she must have had the same hair style since Empire came out (that was 1990 for those who aren't members of the Ryche).
On another concert note, I heart Kenny! (Chesney that is). I won 5th row concert tickets to Kenny on the radio this morning. How will I catch Kenny's eye? Maybe I should've got that boob job instead of a sports car.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A Burp With Your Mouth Closed Occassion
I took M to a formal occassion on Saturday night. Mainly because it was my weekend and I had already shipped her off to a babysitter on Friday night, and cowboy and I are somewhat back to our impasse from right before the holidays - do we or don't we meet each other's kids?
In preparation, we went shopping on Thursday and she picked out a brown and blue dress with a brown cardigan (duh, she's my kid - she will have a sense of style). We talked about behavior expectations, and I asked her if she knew how she was expected to behave. She so matter of factly told me, "I know, burp with my mouth shut." OK, I'll take what I can get.
Saturday afternoon she got dressed, put her tights on with her new shoes and looked amazingly grown up. I struggle with this a little bit since if she looks 'older' than she really is at 7, how much older will she look at 13?
Anyway, Saturday night was probably the most grown-up, polite, well behaved I have seen her ever. She got up on the stage to help call the raffle numbers using a microphone. She survived a sit-down 'fancy' three course dinner. And she held it together until after 10pm with no attitude.
Unfortunately, she only has so much capacity to be good for me. Once that good is used up, it's gone. I think for every hour of good, she needs at least two hours of bad to recoup. After four hours of good Saturday night, and a few hours of good this morning, I figure she's in brat mode for me until at least Friday.
In preparation, we went shopping on Thursday and she picked out a brown and blue dress with a brown cardigan (duh, she's my kid - she will have a sense of style). We talked about behavior expectations, and I asked her if she knew how she was expected to behave. She so matter of factly told me, "I know, burp with my mouth shut." OK, I'll take what I can get.
Saturday afternoon she got dressed, put her tights on with her new shoes and looked amazingly grown up. I struggle with this a little bit since if she looks 'older' than she really is at 7, how much older will she look at 13?
Anyway, Saturday night was probably the most grown-up, polite, well behaved I have seen her ever. She got up on the stage to help call the raffle numbers using a microphone. She survived a sit-down 'fancy' three course dinner. And she held it together until after 10pm with no attitude.
Unfortunately, she only has so much capacity to be good for me. Once that good is used up, it's gone. I think for every hour of good, she needs at least two hours of bad to recoup. After four hours of good Saturday night, and a few hours of good this morning, I figure she's in brat mode for me until at least Friday.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Age Is Just A Number But It Still Matters
Bushwhacker's has one. Duke's has one. Cowgirl's has one. I'm pretty sure every bar has at least one. No, not fat girl in a tube top - Skeletor Man! Think back to He-Man Masters of Universe...but Bar Skeletor is that one scrawny, wrinkly, frail looking old man that hasn't come to terms with the fact he's old yet. Bar Skeletor gets down on the dance floor with his bad self all decked out out in his awesomest Member's Only jacket that's survived the last two decades, hideously ugly cowboy boots, and his whitest dentures (I guess, I don't know that last one for sure). Bar Skeletor at Cowgirl's last weekend followed me outside to smoke and bum a cigarette. OK, I certainly won't be selfish when it comes to things I voluntarily buy that will eventually kill me. Since Skeletor is bumming a cig, I figure he needs a light too. But no, Bar Skeletor has the coolest old man gadget ever - a lighter on a retractable cord attached to his belt. Yikes!
Last Saturday was the weekend celebration of Fat Tuesday. My turn to save a table so I get there a little before 9 and there's no tables left, so I had to share. I had my pick of "mr. 80's" with the almost mullett (oh baby!) or "mr. suave" with the button up shirt that really needed to be buttoned one more up. I went with "mr.suave" since they had a tall table.
But not everyone there Saturday night was old or uncool. I met a cute, slightly buff, blond haired, blue eyed guy named Greg. Greg bought me a Bacardi & Coke and came back to our table to sit with us for a little bit. As we shouted over the music, Greg asked how old we were. Kell replied 39. I replied 33. Turn about's fair play so I asked Greg how old he was. Oh, turns out he's 24. Another 'Yikes!' but for a totally different reason.
Last Saturday was the weekend celebration of Fat Tuesday. My turn to save a table so I get there a little before 9 and there's no tables left, so I had to share. I had my pick of "mr. 80's" with the almost mullett (oh baby!) or "mr. suave" with the button up shirt that really needed to be buttoned one more up. I went with "mr.suave" since they had a tall table.
But not everyone there Saturday night was old or uncool. I met a cute, slightly buff, blond haired, blue eyed guy named Greg. Greg bought me a Bacardi & Coke and came back to our table to sit with us for a little bit. As we shouted over the music, Greg asked how old we were. Kell replied 39. I replied 33. Turn about's fair play so I asked Greg how old he was. Oh, turns out he's 24. Another 'Yikes!' but for a totally different reason.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Decision 2008
Supposedly conflict is a natural part of life. I'm just not sure it's supposed to be as big a part of my life.
2008 is my year of anti-resolutions. I still drink, smoke, eat fast food, and don't exercise. Yet I have always wanted to do Hood To Coast. The disconnect of course is I don't run but Hood to Coast is a running relay. My department snagged one of the work sponsored walking teams for Portland to Coast, so of course there is just a little tiny bit of peer pressure to join Portland to Coast. Plus I have always thought the experience would be a once in a lifetime type thing. Hmmm, what do I do now? Well, now I'm doing the Shamrock Run 5K and probably the Starlight Run for training so I can do Portland to Coast. Guess I have to at least get off my ass long enough I don't freakin' die next month during the Shamrock.
Next conflict - to buy or not to buy? I have always had an inexplixable love of sports cars. I do not know where it came from. Certainly not my parents because my dad barely knows how to check the oil. My mom owns a hybrid and formerly drove a minivan. Not a clue where the fascination came from. I have an opportunity to buy a Camaro, very similar to the one I used to have, for a very good price. I have absolutely no place to put a second car in my one car driveway. I have no need for a second car on my 2.3 mile commute. M's dad is gonna have a shit fit and accuse me of taking him financially for everything he had. Neither of my car's will get over 15 mpg.
But on a purely emotional level, it's a fun car so I'm gonna go for it!
2008 is my year of anti-resolutions. I still drink, smoke, eat fast food, and don't exercise. Yet I have always wanted to do Hood To Coast. The disconnect of course is I don't run but Hood to Coast is a running relay. My department snagged one of the work sponsored walking teams for Portland to Coast, so of course there is just a little tiny bit of peer pressure to join Portland to Coast. Plus I have always thought the experience would be a once in a lifetime type thing. Hmmm, what do I do now? Well, now I'm doing the Shamrock Run 5K and probably the Starlight Run for training so I can do Portland to Coast. Guess I have to at least get off my ass long enough I don't freakin' die next month during the Shamrock.
Next conflict - to buy or not to buy? I have always had an inexplixable love of sports cars. I do not know where it came from. Certainly not my parents because my dad barely knows how to check the oil. My mom owns a hybrid and formerly drove a minivan. Not a clue where the fascination came from. I have an opportunity to buy a Camaro, very similar to the one I used to have, for a very good price. I have absolutely no place to put a second car in my one car driveway. I have no need for a second car on my 2.3 mile commute. M's dad is gonna have a shit fit and accuse me of taking him financially for everything he had. Neither of my car's will get over 15 mpg.
But on a purely emotional level, it's a fun car so I'm gonna go for it!
Monday, January 21, 2008
Commit or Quit?
No, not smoking - cowboy. I never explicitly said "we are getting back together" but I'm not actually dating anyone else. I guess to an extent I gave myself a "get out of jail free" card after "the new guy" fizzled should anything happen with "other work guy" before he left the country. Nothing happened and the going away happy hour was already this past Friday.
We all started at a little brew pub, and five Bacardi & Coke's later moved on to Ringler's, where one Lemon Drop later we moved to 80's night at the Fez Ballroom. Somebody, somewhere hung on to some awesome white Levi's and a neon jacket - way cool! Well, way cool if you remember to roll and peg the Levi's. I was not prepared for 80's night, or the sights of 80's night but witnessed a totally rad dance off between a guy in short shorts, tube socks, and a headband against a guy with an affinity for neon. I would like to go back and actually plan for it ahead of time because it was fun. But the place was way too crowded, too long of a line for drinks, and too long of a line for the bathrooms.
I saw cowboy on Saturday night. He was tired after a hard day of duck huntin' so we didn't do much - just hung out. Only one more weekend of duck season... I gotta figure out what I want.
We all started at a little brew pub, and five Bacardi & Coke's later moved on to Ringler's, where one Lemon Drop later we moved to 80's night at the Fez Ballroom. Somebody, somewhere hung on to some awesome white Levi's and a neon jacket - way cool! Well, way cool if you remember to roll and peg the Levi's. I was not prepared for 80's night, or the sights of 80's night but witnessed a totally rad dance off between a guy in short shorts, tube socks, and a headband against a guy with an affinity for neon. I would like to go back and actually plan for it ahead of time because it was fun. But the place was way too crowded, too long of a line for drinks, and too long of a line for the bathrooms.
I saw cowboy on Saturday night. He was tired after a hard day of duck huntin' so we didn't do much - just hung out. Only one more weekend of duck season... I gotta figure out what I want.
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