Prize Winner of Portland, Oregon

I ripped that title off from a book called the Prize Winner of Defiance Ohio. This was a book that when I worked at a bookstore, I claimed to have read. Because it was popular with the customers. And so I’d say, “Oh! I loved it!” I’d say this about A Girl Named Zippy and Reading Lolita in Tehran. I also said it about Eat Pray Love and then I read that book and really did love it. I’m a girl. Sue me.

Anyway, ever since I won my posh camera from Stoogie and Crissy, I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest person alive. Pre-posh-camera I’d approach contests with a cautious pessimism and now I’m like Bring. It. On.

And because we’re home owners, we must go to Home Depot pretty often and every single time I go there, they hand out this little sweepstakes thing on the receipt and every single time I enter the contest. I’m pretty sure that the blood sample they take and the body cavity search and my swearing away Archer’s future labor just increases my chance of winning a $5000 Home Depot gift card. $5,000 American Dollars!

The next drawing is “on or about April 14th,” according to the sweepstakes rules that were tattooed on my shoulder. And after on or about April 14th, I will totally fulfill my dreams of owning one of theses:

I’m also going to buy a $500 front door because our current front door is…well…I don’t want to say. But it’s not good. And I’m also going to buy a $3000 bbq and a $5000 John Deere riding mower for Steve to do the yard. I’m going to buy 75 fruit trees and provide some tools for my Thai orphan to refinish my floors — some tools, not all. And I’m going to buy solar panels and a new car too. All with my Home Depot gift card!

Gooooo sweepstakes!

Back Fence PDX Day!

Okay, seriously everyone we have all seven storytellers booked. The designs are done by Sadie Medley. Intern Nathalie is sending out the media. We are so on top of February’s event! I can’t wait for it. The lineup is stellar. And I couldn’t be prouder of Back Fence and the work Frayn, Nathalie and I are doing on it.

So go check out this week’s story. It’s by Dave Jarecki, who is a huge supporter of Back Fence. He told a story at our third show and was just fabulous. His blog post is just as honest and poignant. It’s about that experience we all have had. Someone dies way too young. It’s life-altering, if for no other reason than waking the next day and realizing the earth keeps on turning.

I Had a Post All Prepared

Well, sort of prepared, but I just…well…I’ve been spending 13 hours at a time alone with a three year old and I just can’t think right in my brain area.

So you need to watch this.

And then I’d like you to give The Girl Effect some money, please.

I’ll be in the padded room rocking gently and murmuring the Blue’s Clues theme song.

Houston, We Have a Problem

I’m going to post this on the weekend, because I don’t want anyone feeling cheated by a knitting post while surfing blogs during work hours.

Here’s the February Lady’s Sweater thus far:

It’s still in process, I need to keep knitting the bottom, and the sleeves. And if I had any sort of editing skilz, I’d draw a little line on the right side of my upper chest near my shoulder at that raglan decrease because it’s very, very off the mark.

Okay, now it’s on the left side because it’s very difficult to figure out how to take a picture of ones own shoulders. Think about that, Internet. I’m like MC Escher. MC Melissa Escher in the HOWZE!

Whatever.

Okay, but see how that raglan decrease is giving me a third boob above my other boob? Gah. You know why? Because I totally screwed the pooch on the increases. When a pattern says, “Increase X stitches evenly” you can bet your sweep boppy (did anyone else’s grandparents say that?) that I will mess up the math. Badly. To the point that I don’t knit sweaters because I can’t work it out. Now, when those increases came, V found me a knitting calculator on the internet and I entered some numbers, hit submit and I not only got my very own Thai orphan, but I also got the correct increases. I’m sure they were correct because the internet is never wrong.

But what I did with those increases is anyone’s guess. You see, V and I spent a solid three hours each evening watching Mad Men. So I’m sure I was sitting there increasing my little heart away and thinking very naughty thoughts about Don Draper that would mimic the knitting motion quite nicely.

Here’s a little poem about knitting:

In through the front door,
once around the back,
peek through the window,
and off jumps jack

Anywayz, I wound up with too many stitches, and when it came to separate for the sleeves, I separated according to a smaller number, therefore one side would have more stitches than the other. What’s worse, is I KNEW IT WAS HAPPENING. But I’d had so much frustration with the sweater until that point, I couldn’t tear it back, because I knew that if I did, there would be no more sweater, just me showing up to Twisted, ala Carrie, except instead of pig’s blood, there would be blue Malabrigo yarn pouring thought my tresses.

So I kept on knitting. Because while pig’s blood is my color, sadly I couldn’t waste Malabrigo yarn.

And now I have a third boob on that sweater. I’m choosing to think of it as every man’s dream come true and not so much something that belongs in a freak show.

And I’m knitting it and watching Mad Men. Still. So if you see me on the streets and I’m wearing that sweater, be kind. Say something like, Oh, what a lovely third boob you have. And gee that yarn is soft. And oh my god, your increases are simply marvelous. Because truth be told, when it comes to this sweater, I’m still not that far off from having a Carrie moment all over again.

Also, this happened yesterday.

That’s my knee. I was walking and next thing I knew, I was landing, very hard, on one knee on the cement. It was painful. A lot of painful. Full of pain, as it were.

And you know what I thought as soon as I stood, felt tears in my eyes, felt sorry for myself because there was no one around to kiss it and give me ice and hand me my computer with the latest episode of Mad Men and take my three year old for one single hour so I could wallow in my self-pity for a little while, was GODDAMN YOU INTERNET.

I thought, maybe I caused this accident because of my last post. Maybe because I wrote about my clumsiness, I then LIVED IT.

So, I will leave this post with this thought: I’M RICH! I’M RICH! I’M RICH!

West Coast Represent!

Jesus, Internet. Crissy just killed today. Killed.

And I can think of nothing funny to write. NOTHING.

I will leave you with these thoughts, I was walking once and trying to impress a guy with how sexxxy I am and funny and lovely and smart, and I tripped over a fire hydrant. Totally tripped. Hit the thing dead on and tripped over it.

I’ve walked into dozens of poles and the white walls of my house are a gentle gray right at the height of my upper arms because I walk into them all the time. I woke today with a huge bruise on the outside of my thigh and I can only think it’s from my bike ride yesterday — you work that one out.

When my ex-husband taught me to surf, I wound up in the ER with a social worker taking notes and ostracizing my husband, because she found it so implausible that a surfboard could land on its edge right on my throat.

When I was trying to impress Steve and we were working together at a bookstore, I walked around for a solid three months with a huge black bruise on the inside of my upper right arm because every time I passed Steve, I’d nail my arm on this one particular corner of a bookcase in the kids’ section.

And this week, I’m thinking of taking a ballet class.

You’ll all keep your cell phones on hand with 9-1 dialed and your finger on the final 1, right?

Back Fence PDX Day!

Hey hey! It’s Back Fence PDX Day. Today’s story about The Moment After is a worst nightmare, and a dream come true all at once. It’s harrowing and so sweet and filled with an odd confusion that I think we all feel when things suddenly go very, very right after being very wrong.

It’s by Ceci Virtue whose writing is quite lovely, if I do say so myself (yes, she did take my writing class).

And most of our lineup is in the sidebar for our 2.18 show. Tickets are on sale now, so read the post, and get yer tickets. Three more tellers to be announced this week!

The Streets Are Paved With Gold!

I don’t know what it is about Portland, but I find money on the streets every single time I step out of the house. It started with our first visit here– I was finding pennies everywhere. I suspect that leaving pennies everywhere is some sort of Portland white guilt about the homeless, or maybe it’s just because there’s no sales tax and so nothing comes to an odd amount and people just eschew our little copper friends, but I pick them up, Internet. I am not too proud, let me tell you. And I totally will use all the pennies in my pocketbook to pay for stuff. Yes, I will.

See, I documented the pennies from our first trip to Portland. Even then, I thought, PORTLAND LOVES GIVING ME MONEY!

Can you see all those pennies on the bottom corner of the parking meter? That’s my pocketbook Steve’s holding. Don’t want anyone to think he’d carry something red leather. Also the parking meters here are extremely confusing. They don’t take dollar bills. Look at that thing. Look at all those slots. Surely one must fit dollars. No. None do. And I’m a cash-only girl so you can see how that’s vexing.

So we moved here and gradually I progressed from pennies to nickels and later to dimes. I pick up all the change I find on the ground, people. Even if I’m on a bike ride. A week ago, I literally squealed my brakes to pick up fifteen cents.

For past few days, I’d been finding quarters. This was pleasing. And each time I find money, I say, “There’s more where that came from!” Because I’m positive like that.

Well, Internet, yesterday I moved up to the big leagues. Yesterday, I found FIVE AMERICAN DOLLARS on the ground. Five dollars. Do you know how awesome that was? Do you know what a spring in my step I had after I saw that Abe Lincoln, bent down, grabbed it, thought “ZOINK” and kept on walking? Totally Awesome.

That being said, I’m teaching another class. I scheduled on Thursday night, and already I’m in need of a bigger space. So, if you want to come, I recommend signing up sooner rather than later. It’s going to sell out.

Will Leggings Change My Life?

I’m blogging to you LIVE this morning from beneath my new sunlamp. I’ve christened it Tahiti. Tahiti sort of makes me look like an alien, doesn’t it? All I know is that I’m sure this is scarring Archer in some way. Like when he grows up, florescent light will trigger some sort of irrational hunger because I haven’t fed him yet. What? Tahiti told me I’m supposed to use it before 9am. And it’s 7:56am. Okay I read the clock wrong. But I’m already sitting here!

And I’m supposed to sit here for 30 minutes. But I need more tea. What do I do?

The household is going to hell all because of my sadds.

This is not what today’s post is about. Today’s post is about leggings. Last night at about 3:47, I woke up with this thought — I’ll live blog my wearing leggings. I’ll wear them on Tuesday. AND I’LL LIVE BLOG THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE. But wait, I can’t blog on my phone and maybe my three meetings that I have that day, all with important media sorts, will find it odd that I’m opening my wee mac so I can update my readers on my leggings comfort level. Or maybe they won’t. Maybe they will LOVE IT. And what will I wear them with as I have no skirt short enough. I know, Internet. But I’m a classic lady and I like skirts to hit just below my knee cap. So what shall I do? But wait, when I was at American Apparel purchasing my leggings a month ago, I also bought a few shirts and they’re long shirts that would cover my butt. And if I just bike every day from now until Tuesday, quit eating the 75 tons of butter I’ve eaten over the past week, I could reasonably wear leggings with just a t-shirt. These are winter leggings, Internet, never fear. The American Apparel winter leggings are thicker and suck it in just right. I look pretty good in them. Like all of this biking is paying off and granted I have a cyclist’s thighs, which means they’re a tiny bit bulky, but they’re all muscle. So I could do it. And live blog it.

That was my thought this morning.

And you know my life is devoted to celebrating how good my figure looks because I know it won’t last forever, so why the fuck not. It’s not like I live in LA, where a size eight is reason for Jenny Craig. I live in PORTLAND where bodies are meant to be hidden beneath layers of Patagonia and North Face. I WILL UNSHEATHE MY BODY! I will celebrate my form! WITH LEGGINGS!

You’ll tell me if Tahiti is causing me to make bad decisions, won’t you?

I Got Nothing Today

I had a cocktail last night. One cocktail and now I’m hanged. Barf-o-rama. And it didn’t help the sadds at all. So I’m going to send you elsewhere.

Three more videos for Back Fence PDX. Thanks, Brew!

I like Ken’s post.

Galadarling. I love this blog. She’s so upbeat and adorable.

This makes my mouth water.

Finally, Shelly asked in the comments section of my blog if Ken and Stoogie were the same person. If they are, Crissy is the luckiest woman alive.

Things That Are Making Me Not Jump Off the St. John’s Bridge

Still having some sadds. I haven’t actually seen the sun since I left San Diego and Steve had been taking my car to work, and I’d been riding my bike. Except four days ago when I was riding and my back tire burst. I have an internal derailluer on my bike and I am a handy person, but not that handy so I couldn’t change it. So I’ve been bikeless. And carless. And I’m fairly sure I’ve stepped into Bladerunner.

So for today’s blog, I’m going to focus on thing that are making me happy in my girl parts.

1) Nancy Rommelman

Met her for the first time yesterday afternoon, which is crazy because I think we’ve got like 75 friends in common. I call myself a professional writer, but compared to Nancy, I’m writing Casual Encounters ads on Craigslist (Attractive 98 pound, 22 year old white brunette seeks a big Asian daddy to finish her hardwood floors and recaulk her bathroom. Or play with her joystick. Or whatever.) Anyway, Nancy’s got a great blog and was so fabulous in person. Plus she can hold a thoughtful conversation on leggings, and that, my friends, is pretty much all I’m looking for. (Attractive MILF seeks other women to discuss leggings — with panties or without, better with boots?, what length dress can we wear with them?)

[Also, I'd like to apologize for this post because I'm writing it on Steve's computer, which is a PC and I'm finding it hard to be funny what with a mouse with two buttons and everything.]

2. Girasole

I’m going to knit this. Now I know I’ve gotten a lot of knitting requests lately. Shelly’s dog’s sweater, a baby gift for Taco so he doesn’t freeze to death while his parents are drinking gin and tonics at 10am and filming porn in the basement. I have cast on for something for Taco, and it’s not Girasole. It’s not Girasole because I went to the yarn store yesterday and picked out my yarn for the project. I did not buy it because it will be $160. The yarn is Blue Moon Fiber Arts Peru in Sand. That’s an alpaca, merino, silk blend. Holy Jeeburs. I love Taco, and I know that alpaca is too rough for him to barf upon. That little dude will only upchuck on cashmere.

So, what I need from you, internet, for me to knit the Girasole and not jump off the St. John’s bridge and continue on blogging daily FOR YOUR PLEASURE, is for all of you to send me two American dollars. And then I’ll have $158 and I can cover the rest. It’s a lot like that time I responded to the Arabian prince who emailed me about the twenty thousandish rupees he had stashed in a Belgium bank account and if I’d only send him four hundred dollars, he’d pay me back with hashish and four hundred and one pesos and then I’D BE RICH. It’s like that. Except I’m not an Arabian prince, but I will be if you send me two dollars and ask real nice.

3. My bike is getting fixed today.

And that’s it, internet. I can’t stand this PC anymore. What things are making you not commit hari kari today?