HUNGOVER PORTLAND

...and later on, she dumped him.

Thinking about my mom reading this blog got me thinking about one of the more embarrassing hangover experiences I've ever had.  It is exceedingly tacky.  Be prepared.

I used to be quite the party animal, and nothing sounded more awesome when I was hammered than making out with dudes.  Okay, sometimes nachos sounded better, but not often.  Anyhoo, some night a few years back I picked up a dude from a 3rd-tier karaoke joint.  La la la, next morning I kick him out of my apartment, and he wants to give me his phone number.  I put it into my phone, paused, and saved him as "Friday karaoke."  I had no idea what his name was.  I just couldn't bring myself to ask him. 

Gross, right? *  Well, it still made for a good story. which I shared with my friends right away, including a new dude that one of my besties had just started hanging out with.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks: I am enjoying an unrelated hangover and large bloody mary with said bestie and her guy.  I see one of my former bosses at the bar; she was hip and friend-like, but still definitely a professional, not personal, contact.  She came over to say hello, and somehow I stupidly said something about being single.  I don't know how it happened.  Bestie's dude, who by that point had showed signs of being crappy, blurted out:

Missing you, girl.

This will be a cold and rainy weekend in the city of roses.  I wish I was spending it at Rose and Raindrop.  Remember that bar?  There just isn't as good a place to drink a delicious bloody mary on gray days. 

It's a fucking bank now.

Sigh.

I miss that bar a lot, but especially on weekends like this one we're about to have.  I've tried to find replacements, but nothing else comes close.

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?

Winter time. Bring on the BMs! Beulahland redemption.

It's been so breezy out, and I've been super into feeling all snuggly and autumnal.  My bf and I spent this last Saturday again making the real estate rounds.  But we weren't out long, because we found our little slice of shabby retro heaven, made an offer, and spent Saturday hoping we'd get this perfect place. We spent part of it at a bar. 

Beulahland!  Oh yeah.  I had a bad bloody mary there a couple of years ago and spent some time away from their breakfast cocktails. But last Saturday felt celebratory and I opted to try it again.  I'm so glad I did!  The BM was just how I like 'em: slightly spicy, served in a pint glass (no salt), and with my favorite pickled stuff (olives and green beans). 

Yes!  While I may have been shaking from nerves rather than alcohol abuse, the BM was still the perfect fix.  I appreciated its large size, and Beulahland's mellow vibe, and left the lazy brunch feeling something like calm.  (Okay, not totally - we weren't able to really relax until our offer was accepted 24 hours later. :))

Verdict: all past mistakes forgiven.  BMs here great. I'll go back, most def.

 

And then we ate and everything good kept happening. EFF YEAH LOMPOC.

The hike in the early afternoon through Forest Park was, as mentioned, wonderful.  I didn't really force down much food before going - I wanted to really earn the right to pig out on a casual b-day lunch/dinner.  At some point during the walk back down to the car, we started talking food, and by the time we started driving, were straight up retarded hungry.  I wanted a place where I could get a delicious beer and sit outside; I wanted McMenamin's-type food without going to one.

As luck would have it, our drive towards home passed the New Old Lompoc.  OMG, did you guys know about this place?  I had never been, and I could not have dreamed up a more delicious and perfect place to enjoy the afternoon. 

We sat in the shady patio and I asked for a summery beer. The bartender brought me out their gold ale, which was so fucking refreshing and flavorful that I had two.  Remember that: GOLD BEER.  16 oz of summer perfection. 

The food was DOPE.  I got a portabello sandwich with all sorts of northwest-style yuppie accoutrements.  Deliciousville is an apt description of the experience.  My bf got a French dip that he won't shut up about.  He sent his compliments to the chef AND told some stranger outside to go in and order one.  That is how good this shit was. 

I didn't realize when I ordered, but the pub has happy hour drink prices all day Sunday, AND they have a $3.25 bloody mary special.  Say WHA?!  Yes.  That is correct.  Why would you EVER go anywhere else?  I hope I don't.

We had parked near a McMenamin's, and as we got back into the car, I could only pity the suckers at sidewalk tables, most likely silently fuming over their inconsistent service and tired menu.

Summer has technically been here for 1 week, and there have definitely been some sunny weekends here and there, but I now feel like summer is truly starting.  I've got my birthday out of the way, this is going to be a short holiday week in the high 80s, and I have found and appreciated two of the most awesome things in this city in one fucking magical birthday from space.

It is going to be a good summer, my bitches.

BLOODY MARY: Miss Awesome is a little more like it.

On Friday night I got really drunk, as documented by my rambling Saturday photo updates.  In a bold shift in drinking habits, I started the night with a bloody mary.  But wait - let me explain.

My boyfriend and I celebrated 11 months of coupledom with a date at Miss Delta, conveniently located by our new digs up North. We were seated at the bar and saw some expert booze-slinging.  Before I could say it was insanity to drink a BM in the pm, I found myself ordering one.  Then I immediately changed my order to a mojito - I wasn't ready to be that person. 

BUT THEN THE BARTENDER MADE ONE ON ACCIDENT AND GAVE IT TO ME FOR FREE.  Fuck yes is right.

And it was good.  Spicy and full of flavor, but it didn't get close to the marinara territory that some overly-crafted bloody marys end up in.  It was perfectly garnished and served in a large goblet.  I was surprised by how easily it washed down my red beans and rice, and by how easily I gulped the whole thing down.  By the time I finished the cocktail I'd actually ordered, I was tipsy, and the date night was just beginning.

Well, the rest is not worth getting into (another bar, two rock shows, and some serious car necking), but I tell ya, starting the night with my favorite morning beverage got my Friday on with a peppery bang, and I look forward to making it a part of a weekend day.

The verdict, clearly, is that you ought to make that shit happen, boozers.

Caffe Pallino: No Boys Allowed!!

Even thought I'm working on staying off the sauce this month, I caved on Friday night and allowed myself a few glasses of red wine to shake a rough week.  It was okay.  Yesterday morning I felt pretty much fine - barely even a reintroduction into a Saturday hangover, really - but I was sassy enough to seek out my favorite lady friends for a giggly afternoon.

We started off at Caffe Pallino, a little spot on SE Division.  We really wanted to end up at the Village Merchants, so the lunch pick was more for proximity to shopping than anything else.  I'd been there once before and remembered only that the coffee took forever, and the large cookie wasn't large enough.  Plus I kinda hate ordering standing up.  I wasn't really hungry, but while gossiping with my friends in line, I saw a sign for Bloody Marys and before I could even remind myself that I wasn't drinking anymore, I'd placed an order and was fishing out my debit card.

My girlfriends also ordered some random items, including coffee stuff, salad, and a greek plate.  I wasn't impressed by much of it, to be honest.  Everything took way too long.  However, we got a nice table by the huge windows and kept warm while wearing sunglasses inside.  It felt very similar to...a television program...featuring women...in a city...discussing...intercourse....except we're younger, and dressed more comfortably. 

The bloody mary wasn't great (I had to pour in a bit of tabasco to make it interesting) but the extended amount of time I spent sipping it and saying both serious and silly things was a wonderful start to a bright and freezing afternoon. 

I'll remember yesterday's lunch fondly, although I won't recommend the locale to anybody else, and I'd be perfectly content to never go back.  Had I had a noteworthy hangover, I probably would have had a much worse attitude. 

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.

Who fucking needs windows? Breakfast at the Space Room.

Here I am, one day behind on blogging, but only because yesterday I didn't have much patience for writing.  The cause is perhaps, but not definitely, the amount of time spent Friday night sipping leftover red wine at home and then drinking brewskies at The Standard.  Holman's, bless it, was on the way home, so several deep-fried things were the icing on the drunk, drunk cake.  I slept in later than normal, felt like garbage, and became part of a hastily-assembled cocktail breakfast team.  My bf's roommate offered the best breakfast invite ever: "you wanna get tomato-based fucked up?"

Once frequented but now often forgotten, The Space Room won over our haggard crowd for 1) it's cocktails, 2) it's cheap/awesome breakfasts, and 3) it's lack of natural light.  Really, nothing says "who fucking cares that we partied last night?" quite like that windowless room.  Sometimes I swear it gets even dimmer throughout the course of the meal.  I had no idea what time, or season, it was over the course of my lazy, lazy meal, and I did not care in the least. 

Other awesome features, in brief: there is never a wait that one finds outside of The Cricket or wherever, the booths are plentiful and comfortable, you can get breakfast OR lunch, smoking but not too smoky, ms. pacman, never pressure to get your table turned, and again, DARK.

And onto the bloody mary: YUM!  SR serves it up in a large goblet that isn't quite as gigantic as a pint glass, but definitely legit.  The only garnish they throw in there is a semi-frozen stick of celery and a tiny squished lime.  I realize I might not be selling the drink well, but let me tell you - the shit is delish in spite of the lacking frills.  I don't know if the base is homemade or what, but I love it - a little spicy, not too thick or thin.  Just good, ya know? I'm glad I got two - especially afterwards, when it was 1pm and I was a little bit drunk again, in a fun and funny way.

Team: when you don't really want anybody to be able to see exactly what you look like at breakfast (or lunch!), I hope you've got The Space Room be on your short list for weekend winter hangover bliss.