HUNGOVER PORTLAND

Las resacas de la navidad

Hey everybody, I'm back!  Big hugs to my bf for keeping the blog moving (albeit perhaps a little slowly) and to all of you for what I assume was a massive amount of holiday boozin'.  And you're reading this, you survived the great blizzard of 2008!  I'm so happy for you.

I'm also happy for me.  I left the day the blizzards really get their asses in gear and arrived home last night to nothing but a few grody piles of snowy gravel on the sides of the roads.  Mexico ruled!  The sky was cloudless, the water warm, the beers cheap and plentiful.  I think that the boozing hour was noon at the beginning of the trip, but slowly worked its way into the a.m. so that one could really down a shit-ton of modelos throughout the day.  It was hard to party at night after spending entire days downing beers in the hot sun. I went to bed early each night and slept a solid 10 hours, but I had regular slight hangovers throughout the trip. 

Saving my life each and every morning were the fantastic breakfasts we made of beans, eggs, hot tortillas, papaya, coffee, and fresh orange juice.  All of those things could be purchased here, but tasted way better there.  The breakfasts were always the perfect amount of protein, carbs, and fiber for tons of energy and slimming #2s.  I doubt There is no way I'll be able to put together breakfasts that dope back here in Portland, so I won't even try.  Also, my uncle did most of the cooking, and I doubt I'll be able to con him into recreating the food for me whenever my hangover beckons.

I don't know if it was the gorgeous weather, amazing food, knowing I'd evaded winter misery, or maintaining a constant alcohol buzz, but I felt awesome the whole time I was gone.  Folks, I tell ya - if you want to really love your holiday hangovers - I mean really, really enjoy them - do so in the tropics.

That said, I'm glad to be home.  Now I rest, and I'll blog up the Y2K9 hangover soon!  Be safe and get hammered.  xoxo

Christ Died for my Numerous Sins, and All I Got Was This Hangover

Merry Christmas, Internet.  If your holiday festivities were anything like my family's, you might be feeling a little under the weather right now.  Luckily, the you (the internet) have provided us with several offerings which, even if not outright remedies, serve as adequate distractions from the compelling pain of regret.

For example, from our friends at Hulu comes this gem, featuring sun, skin and skydiving in equal measures.  It stars Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon, whose doe-eyed earnestness actually made me forget the pain between my temples.  A Christmas Miracle!

Stay Strong, Internet.  We're all in this together, and I'm pulling for you.

Hello Again, Internet. You Look Great.

While Joneser is avoiding our current Arctic Blast in the sunny climes of Mexico's Pacific coast, she's left me at the helm.  Please bear with me.

Last night was Thursday, so of course I was drunk by 9.  My roommate works Sat-Wed, and it just seems unfair for the rest of the world to party so hard on our Friday, and not extend to him the same opportunity to destroy his liver at the end of the work week.  Over the course of several hours, we made our way from the Side Street, to the Blue Monk, and finally to the Triple Nickel.  I have no strong opinion on these bars, except to say that they each have pool tables and serve reasonably priced whiskey.  That we ended up at the Nickel might serve as a reasonably accurate indicator of our drunkenness towards the end of the night (no offense, Nickel).

I woke up on our couch at 5:30 this morning.  The lights were still on, my pants were under the coffee table, and the TV was left on one of the religious stations (!?) airing a horribly irritating 18-35 outreach show.  I was unhappy.  I don't think I could have mustered the strength to get up if I hadn't realized that I still had lemonade in the fridge.  After a shower, more lemonade, coffee and 3 cigarettes, I still felt awful.

According to Joneser's formula, this would be the graf describing the remedy (or at least mitigation) of a horrible hangover.  Today, however, I found none.  It's 6pm and I'm still hungover.  Nonetheless, watch this space over the next few days for thoughts on Portlanders loosing their shit at the threat of winter weather, The He-Man and She-Ra Christmas Special, Creeper Lagoon's first album, and what (if any) effect these things have on my frequent and severe hangovers. 

Happy Vacation! I'm getting internationally hungover, y'all.

Lovers:

Through the magic of technology, this blog post is going up at about the time I am boarding a plane to Ixtapa, Mexico.  Yum! 

I'll be in a land that cannot be accessed via the information super highway, so my boyfriend is blogsitting for me.  I hope that this goes better than the time I went camping and asked him to water my pants.  I trust that it will.

Readers, check back for posts about some of my boyfriend's favorite hangover things, which I assume to be kittens and hugs and feelings and lemonade, but may actually just be science and boners and farts and lemonade.  So we're all in for a surprise!

[Oh, and tell your friends, would you?  It will be good for our egos, which are tiny.  Tiny like AWESOME!]

I'll be back just in time to get super sloppy on New Year's Eve.  Happy yuletide boozing!  Hugs and kisses and holiday hickeys.

Love,
Joneser

The Hottest Hangover on the coldest day

So, we all know that Sunday was the day that Portland lost their brains right because of snow.  I, for one, was pissed.  I had a ton of errands to do and a monster headache that was the result, not of one of the two ragers I was invited to Saturday night, but rather from my grandmother's 90th birthday earlier in the day, at which I got shitcanned.  Yeah...yikes is right. 

The thing I was looking forward to most on Sunday was a friend's mom's annual cookie party, which was in the SW hills, and therefore inaccessible by noon.  I'd already baked my six dozen cookies and everything.  Several friends were also snowed in with baked goods, so we combined forces for perhaps THE BEST SNOWDAY HANGOVER EVER. 

I really mean that.  Sledding?  Skiing?  Yeah fucking right.  I enjoyed the weather yesterday only because it meant that I could do NOTHING besides snuggle with my favorite people and eat 15 cookies and watch movies and sip warm bourbon in the early afternoon.  And I don't like Christmas, but I admittedly enjoy the movie Elf, and OH MAN did we watch the hell out of it.  Under blankets.  With cookies and bourbon.  Holy shit, that was a day.

Guys, yesterday was one of the best days ever.  To those who were there: HUGS.  To those who were not: you're invited next time.  Bring some fattening foods and a willingness to indulge in - yes, I'm saying it - a little holiday cheer.  There was no way the hangover I was suffering from could have made that afternoon any less rad. 

Clever girl(s) (and dudes): Snuggling with Jurassic Park

It's a great day and it was a great weekend.  I was so goddamn hungover all day Saturday, it was a challenge to get pretty and gracefully chug wine at my office holiday party that evening.  I did so successfully and without humiliating myself, and even made it to another friend's house party after.  I didn't last long and could still barely pee when I was turning in by midnight, exhausted.

So, when I kicked off this little blog of ours, I described my opinion that Jurassic Park could get one's life back on track after a bender.  This opinion is shared with an elite group of genius drinkers commonly known as "my friends."  We have periodic viewings of JP, one of which was scheduled for Sunday to celebrate 1) that Marq had purchased a kickass new sub-woofer for the movie room, and 2) exactly six months had elapsed since I drunkenly admitted to my best dude friend that I totally liked him and we started sucking face. 

This dude and I and all of our friends loaded up on a million snacks (including spicy natural cheetos, veggie corndogs, animal crackers, tangerines, tater tots, and cheese) and nestled into a nearly-windowless basement room for some movie magic.  This probably goes without saying, but you guys: it was FANTASTIC.  The movie is one we'd all seen dozens of times, but at that volume and with that much food and comfort, I was way too overstimulated to think about how many ounces of alcohol consumed in the previous two evenings.

Since we had to take a couple of breaks for reheating food and smoking cigarettes, it was already dark by the time we left.  I was not feeling my hottest for my anniversary date, but I absolutely felt revitalized by the cheesy theme song, saying "SHOOT HERRRR!" a bunch of time, and that scary scene when the kids and the raptors are in the kitchen and then that hilarious part when the blond girl goes running screaming towards the door with her arms out in front of her. 

Ah, yes, folks - don't forget how wonderful this movie was when you were in middle school - you're just as helpless when you're hungover, and you know it, so find a blanket and a buddy and get lost with snacks and this delightful film.

Feeling a little weird? This is for you.

Good morning, boozehounds.

Nearly every time we hear an early 60s jam on the radio, my boyfriend starts talking about the Teddy Grahams commercials of our youth.  I insisted that not every song of the genre has been used to promote those cookies, and we turned to youtube for the answers.

We found the following.  One word sums it up: "uuhhhhh........" But it's awesome!  And just for you on this brisk December hangover:





Love,
Joneser

Let's never, ever leave Claudia's

I left work at 5pm on the dot tonight and got into the car to news about O.J. fucking Simpson, then the half a million jobs lost.  Depressed, I scanned through my fave oldies stations to only find fucking CHRISTMAS music.  FUCK. This is not how you kick off a weekend! 

So let's talk more about last weekend.  It was so great!

On Saturday, I was feeling a bit tepid by celebrating a friend's birthday at the new karaoke joint downtown.  My bf and I spent a little time recuperating on the couch and debated whether we had another night of partying in us.  My alma mater, The Best College Ever,(University of Oregon) had a friendly game of pigskin [did I use that right?  It means football??] with some silly twats - oh excuse me, I believe they prefer beavers, so the bf and I dragged our hangovers to Claudia's, which almost immediately became my favorite bar in Portland. 

We were just in time to watch some the Ducks add insult to injury, and we were so happy!  Also, high life pitchers were only $7!!  So we drank.  Then our already-hazy eyes noticed a sign on the wall "KAROKE 9PM SATURDAYS."  wha...????  We killed time by drinking more and than tore that bar an out-of-tune asshole like it had never been torn before.

You guys, it may have been the seemingly-endless pitchers, or the awesome service, or my love for Mr. Big, but I freaking LOVE Claudia's.  The chairs are comfy, the kj was friendly, our drinks were cheap and plentiful, and nobody tried to kick us out.  Yay!  Best hangover-to-wastedness ever!!!

I didn't drink their bloody mary since we were there in the evening hours, but something tells me they will be awesome, and then I'll never have an excuse to go anywhere else.

Hey Snuggie - you're just a robe for prudes

I recently saw the following over on slog - it is an ad for what is essentially a backwards bathrobe that parades around as a special couch blanket with sleeves.  YEEAAAA -wait, no! - BOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

See for yourself!

You and your alcoholism and laziness may be thinking "gimme!" but let's think about this clearly.  Sure, it could be awesome to not ever have to move your arms out from under a blanket to grab a remote, and it is potentially awesome to not have to remove said blankie to walk around inside, but really - the commercial does not show a single backside, which is an important terrain to keep warm on these cold winter evenings. 

Also, more importantly, this is really a tool for prudes who don't want to snuggle together.  Those adjustable sleeves don't have shit on the warmth generated by company.  (Hubba hubba, know what I'm sayin'?) The snuggie seems to limit access to some important areas.

So, snuggies: go back to puritanical times and stay the hell off my couch and my hangover.

via

I've been trying not to write about The Wire, but damn, I've just gotta

It was a big weekend for this girl.  I lived large, felt awesome and crappy and awesome again, and was far too lazy and self-indulgent to write.  Now it's Monday night and I'm trying to unravel my memories of the last several days, and there is only one thing (besides my mom's amazing lefse) that I can think about:

The Wire.

If you haven't watched it, DO IT.  I have tried to wait until I finished the watching the series on dvd to write this post, but I can't help myself, since my boyfriend and I spent so many hours drooling over it this weekend.  We're now finishing up Season 3.  I think there are 5 seasons total?  I don't know, to be honest.  You see, I've heard lots of tv nerds blowing their loads over this show for a while, but I've avoided getting too much info because I don't want anything given away.  And I hate surprises, so that is saying something about how much I enjoy it.

My brother described it as a 60-hour long movie with just as many well-developed characters and sub-plots.  There are drug dealers, drug stealers, good cops, bad cops, good politicians, bad politicians, union hacks, hookers, reverends, and much more.  Really, this shit is complex.  And incredibly violent - I have to cover my eyes up a lot.  But it's funny, too.  My fave character is the lovable crackhead Bubbles, but really, the whole lot are just as effed up in their own ways.

The hard thing about watching it with a hangover is that the show requires serious brain work.  It's not like watching Love, Actually for the 30th time when you can fall asleep during the annoying scenes with the lovesick kid.  However, even while feeling like garbage, wearing a sweatsuit, sipping carbonated water, and releasing unique farts, one can feel part of something bigger and better and awesome watching The Wire.  I watched 5 episodes the day after Thanksgiving, breaking only to eat leftover stuffing and the aforementioned lefse and it refueled me enough to sing karaoke in NW.  I regret nothing.  Get on board, team.