HUNGOVER PORTLAND

So what.

I drank a whole bottle of wine last night, from start to finish.  I don't do that often enough anymore.

This kind of crappy mood calls for Subway.  There is a Subway about 3 blocks from my office.  But it is raining so I'm gonna drive.  I'm going to get chips, too.

Fuck it.  I just don't give a shit about shit today.

I have said it once, and I'll say it again: I LOVE THE INTERNET

Another day spent bleeding from eyes as I try to finish writing this thing that does not want to be written.

I take a breather on buzzfeed, and find the thing I never knew I needed to see:

It is Tom Selleck at a waterfall with a sandwich.  Everything will be okay; things around me are beautiful again, and I experience peace.

And there is so much more.

More Asian breakfasts in felony flats

Yesterday morning I got up at the asscrack of dawn after sending a wonderful friend off to California with copious amounts of alcohol.  I felt like shit and seriously wanted to watch cartoons but a friend was coming over to help Mr. Joneser change up our electrical...stuff?...and my job was to stay the hell out of the way and provide snacks.  My hangover begged for grease, my wallet (which was weak from a massive Home Depot excursion) asked me to be nice, and those hardworking boys needed substance.

I turned to Best Baguette, on Powell just above 82nd.  People kind of freak out about crossing 82nd, but quit being such fucking babies and get yourselves some delicious and CHEAP food. Best Baguette's thing is vietnamese sandwiches.  I like the vegetarian, which consists of fried tofu, some noodles, shredded vegetables, and a shitload of cilantro and jalapenos on crunchy, fresh french bread.  I hear the pork is also bomb.

And tell me this, you trendy eaters: where else in this fucking town can you get not 2, not 3, not even 4, but 5 large and awesome sandwiches for $14.55?  You can't tell me where, because there is no other place.

I was there for takeout at about 10:45am, and the place was packed with Vietnamese families.  It made me happy.  I'm so into diversity, I thought to myself, and gave myself a progressive liberal pat on the back.  Then I packed my tummy with salty grease and diet coke, and told that hungover to fuck the fuck off.  And it did.

You should go there some time.

Breakfast, phase two.

I am going to share some valuable information with you. 

People in this city like breakfast so much that they'll loiter on sidewalks for hours to get a table and pay $12 for eggs.  I don't do that.  Waiting for hangover food is simply unacceptable.  So I am obsessed with finding non-busy places where I can quickly and quietly nurse my wounds.  And we just found a new spot in our new hood.  This means a great deal to me.  I will tell you about it, because I like you, but you better not fucking ruin it.

Maple Leaf Chinese American Cafe.  Foster Road. It is the closest restaurant to our house and probably the only place I'll dine in the a.m. until we move out of the neighborhood or I get fat.

The Maple Leaf is a fabulous and unique spot.  My boyfriend suggested I call it "fusion" but I think that is a stupid word.  What you need to know is that you can get sweet and sour pork in an omelette, covered with velveeta-like cheese.  Sound weird?  It's super fucking weird.  But it is super fucking awesome.  They've got a whole American diner menu, and a whole Chinese menu, and a handful of bizarro combos.  The staff was kind and I don't think they would make anybody feel bad for wearing last night's makeup out in public; they keep your coffee cups full.

I'll be honest, there were moments when I thought I was going to throw up at breakfast, but I think that was my hangover talking, and not the food. Now my eggs and potatoes are resting comfortably in my tummy and there is some movie on the television which features a puppy talking to forest animals, including frogs, birds, and a koala?  The day is looking up!

Breakfast, phase one.

1 pint diet coke.

3 cups coffee, black.

1 glass of water, lukewarm.

2 aleve.

1 slice chocolate cake, large.

Lunch

This has been a gigantic party weekend.  Yesterday was rough, but my hangover eased up just as it was time to go out and get drunk again.  I drank enough to think that I could rap at karaoke, which is always a good/terrible sign.

Today we've been hustling to get packed and organized.  I did so happily knowing that we planned on lunch from my favorite North Portland restaurant, Eddie's.  Jesus Christ, it is so fucking good.  Don't be fooled by its boring appearance and interior; the food is slammin'.  The salads normally rock my world, but today's hangover and drizzly weather compelled me to try the hot veggie sandwich, and holy shit am I glad I did.  It was so greasy, huge, cheesy, satisfying.  I only ate half and feel close to dying of fullness. 

I'm going to go back to work in hopes that I can become hungry enough later tonight to eat the second half.  This an important goal.

Folks: if you're in North Portland, or even if you're not, check out Eddie's for maximum comfort food hangover relief.  It is like giving your stomach a huge hug which might be a little bit painful, but still feels so, so good.

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.

 

I have friends who write, too.

If you are not impressed by my musings, you may want to visit a couple of other blogs I enjoy. 

Overshare is written by a friend of mine whose recent rant about barfing won her a spot on the blogroll. 

Clearly Tasty is written by another friend whose culinary abilities make me feel like a lazy bum and will serve as inspiration when I can't see beyond the egg sandwich.

Enjoy!

xo

Working hard, or hardly working? Also: a deli sandwich!

Today, the answer to that questions is hardly working.  By a LOT.

I hosted girls' night last night.  Girls' night always means wine and good times, but when I host, it means I don't have to worry about driving, so I can chug alcohol like my parents are out of town.  I didn't feel hammered, but I have felt like crap all day today.  The headache went away fast enough, but the retardation has been lingering.

It doesn't help that my boss is out of town.  I thrive with supervision.  It's kind of like living with my boyfriend - when I lived by myself, I would totally eat cheese slices and popsicles for dinner and watch the worst reality shows and let them make me cry.  Now that he is constantly all up in my face, I just don't do that.  It is good to have people keep you in check. 

Now I'm writing this post because I've exhausted absolutely every other place of interest on the internet.  I told a client she could drop something off by 5, so I can't leave yet.

One good thing that happened today is that I went to Freddie's for lunch.  I brought a salad from home, but knew early on that it was not even going to come fucking close to cutting it for lunch.  I had other stuff to pick up from FM, so I hit up their deli.  YOU GUYS: do you ever get sandos from their deli?  They are so good! 

I feel like some people might avoid the deli case because they're all "mm, I don't really want any ambrosia salad today" but I definitely recommend you quick being such a stuck-up asshole and check it out.  Sure, they won't tell you about how many times the turkey you are eating was hugged before slaughter, and your sandwich might be touching twice-baked potatoes, or rather dry, but get over yourself.  They are all under $5, and the ones I have tried are completely adequate! 

There are a bunch of pre-made ones off to the side, too.  I like the pre-made ones sometimes because then I go to the U-scan, and if I'm fast enough, I can leave the office, get lunch, and return without speaking to or making eye contact with another living person.  This is awesome when I'm hungover because I'm always a little bit embarrassed to have polished off a bottle of wine by 8pm on a Wednesday and feeling like I didn't brush my teeth enough to mask the wino breath.

Today I got a turkey swiss sandwich.  (I am a vegetarian who has craved protein too much in recent weeks to deny myself turkey sandwiches or chicken or whatever the fuck I want, but I am my own boss, so shut your fat mouth.)  YUM!

Guys: check out the Freddie's deli.  You won't be sorry.

This has been an excellent use of 10 minutes. 

Lazy Sunday.

Last night was one of these kinds of nights:

Warm late summer night in my friends' beautiful back yard, watching friends play music, drinking beer and white russians, holding hands, playing with fireworks and light.  It was totally one of those feelings and atmospheres you wish you could capture and revisit whenever you wanted. 

Today I have been lazy and happy.  I've baked three kinds of bread.

This Sunday evening is too pleasant to do anything else on my computer. 

I hope everybody else is enjoying these last gasps of summer.

xo