HUNGOVER PORTLAND

Happy belated National Cat Day

Anybody else think that the cat does not give a fuck about who Oprah is?

Halloweeeeeeeeiner glue and spraypaint

Good morning, angels. It is Halloween! Exciting, right?  I accidentally drank too much last night.  It was a rough week in Jonesertown.  Headache.

I have mixed feelings about this day.  Much like New Year's Eve, Halloween brings out some jerk-offs, and there is this huge pressure to do something memorable and epic.  I'm an adult; the calendar should not be the boss of me. 

I went from age 13 to 26 without preparing a Halloween costume, and the last couple years have worn things handed to me by friends.  But this year I'm making something and I think it will be magical.  Here is a sneak preview:

Can you guess what I am?

I have to put the finishing touches on it today.  That means I'll be sitting in a small basement room using spraypaint and glue.  Will the fumes help or hurt me eliminate this hangover by party time tonight?  Jeez, I suspect that they won't.  I hope this hangover does not ruin my likelihood of earning another one for tomorrow.

Shit, time for some serious self-improvement.  Thank little baby Halloween Jesus for leftover enchiladas and lemonade.  Oh, and tv.

Gray days need more magic like this

I don't like poetry.  I don't like children's television.  The combination of the two has become the best thing to happen to me today.

Quoth Poe:

Thank you morninggloria! 

Bloody Mary wins! Belmont Inn comfort Sundays.

Earlier this morning, I looked at some gray Portland skies and very briefly wondered if I should get a bloody mary or exercise.  Alcohol won out.

My bf and I had all sorts of Halloween/house-related errands to run today, and he seemed unenthusiastic about planning a bar stop, claiming it would make me "lazy" and "unable to get stuff done."  But I won him over with the promise of buying him a burger.  We went to Belmont Inn, a longtime favorite of mine for their delicious BMs. 

The rough thing about Belmont Inn is the noisy sports crowd.  I guess Sundays are big for football?  Lots of dudes were yelling, but the excellent bartender took good care of us.  I love when a bloody mary is artfully put together in front of me, and I LOVE when I get to pick out my own pickled stuff from a tray. 

That pint-glass sized SOB was so comforting that I could ignore the 90 televisions and the yelling.  I nursed it while my subtle Sunday headache went away.  Then I got a beer, and by the end of our lunch I was chatty and excited to finish doing chores.

Guys: if you love BMs, this is an excellent place to go, although you do have to be prepared for the sports.  I think that the finely-crafted goodness of the cocktails drown out the misery brought on by sports fans.

More reviews.  (Look for a familiar sentiment from commenter "Jones." Who could that be?  She sounds so smart and pretty....)

The ultimate Sunday dilemna

I stirred in bed for a while this morning, looking out at gray clouds, listening to my boyfriend eating cereal and to my cats purring.

I have joined a gym (more on that later) and come to enjoy weekend morning exercise.

I am also a gigantic fan of Bloody Mary Sundays.

Both would make me feel awesome for totally separate reasons.

What do I do?

Annual reminder that I am too old for tequila

Yesterday was a bad day.

I'd gone to my hometown Saturday evening because my friend's parents have a nice house and they were out of town.  You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't make her not want to get hammered in it.  I got very, very drunk with a few people I've known for many, many years, and had a wonderful time.  Vodka?  Sure! Pumpkin beer?  Shit yes!  Shots of tequila that you found in the liquor cabinet that looks pre-Zapata?  No, I'm not drunk enough to make that mistake, well, okay, but only a few.

Ugh, REGRET!  Tequila is simply never a good idea, especially on top of a large dinner and other kinds of booze.  I woke up Sunday morning with a headache, and figured that coffee and water would make it go away eventually, but NO, the pain only got worse as the morning dragged on, and it also called up its buddy, nausea, to crash the hangover party.  By the time my friends were getting ready to find brunch, I could barely open my eyes and was taking deep breaths so I wouldn't make a yammy on their grownup furniture.

Then they left for breakfast, and I got found a bathroom to barf in.  Let's call it "opposite breakfast."  Thinking that was sufficient, I took some ibuprofen and chugged water and waited for the pain to subside.  But NO, more barfing followed. 

New level of pathetic, high school style

I'm only now able to publicly mention my day, but I can't get too far into it yet.  Everything is still too fresh, too sensitive.

I will say that I got hammered in my hometown last night and spent this morning throwing up in my friend's parents' house while everyone else was at brunch. 

Art.

We are buying a house.  Yay!  Dreaming about how to remodel and decorate is a blast.  I'm envisioning a living room wall covered in these:

The masturbating dinosaur will never judge you for bad breath or eating your 4th bowl of cereal in one sitting.  It is a masturbating dinosaur.

Thanks, regretsy.

Do something important today. Television.

Lazy bums: are you sitting inside on this beautiful autumn day?

I fuckin' am!  Cool weather = dark beer = consistent Saturday headache/gas.

Anyways, this is my favorite new thing:

There are 4 episodes of Community on hulu.  Watch them all; feel productive.  This beautiful fall weather will last forever, and this show is straight up excellent. Stay inside.

Inspiration.

The always reliable cheezburger network is what you get from me right now.

And perhaps more importantly:

Via from here