Another travel review: Portland

At this point, I don't think it's fair for me to travel anywhere without bashing the hell out of whatever city I visited. And for today's post, Portland takes its beating with style and grace. Haha just kidding; Portland takes its beating while complaining bitterly that it's "unfair" and "totally sexist" even though that doesn't make any sense, Portland, and why do you have to make everything into a gender equality issue?

So. My brother recently moved to Portland, and my mom, sister, baby niece and I all went down there this weekend to visit him. We used my dad's hotel points to score a free room at the Embassy Suites by the airport.

My brother's apartment is really easy to get to from I-5 -- you just take an exit, go across a bridge, make like two turns and then you're there. Too easy. Not a problem.

UNTIL WE GOT THERE AND THE BRIDGE WAS CLOSED FOR SOME STUPID GODDAMNED BICYCLE RACE. Because it's Portland, so probably they close all the bridges to accommodate bicycle races like twice a day.

Okay, no problem -- I just follow the detour signs and figure they will lead me to a different bridge, at which point we'll let our iPhones figure out how to get to brother's apartment once we reach the correct side of the river.

UNTIL THE DETOUR SIGNS LED US INTO AN INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX AND THEN STOPPED COMPLETELY. I mean this in all seriousness -- the detour signs for both cars and trucks just led into a gated industrial complex and then stopped. It was like some kind of rat trap they had concocted as an elaborate joke. This industrial park was swarmed with cars piloted by other drivers who were as confused as I was. How the f**k exactly is this an effective detour? Is someone going to show up here and shut the gate, then proceeding to torture us all to death for his own sick amusement?? Is a shuttle coming to take us all across the river?

So we turned to our technology and managed to find our way back onto the freeway, crossing at a different bridge and eventually getting to my brother's apartment. It all went smoothly.

EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE I WAS SO STRESSED I ALMOST CRIED BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY BICYCLISTS THAT IT IS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP TRACK OF THEM ALL WHILE TRYING TO DRIVE SAFELY. Before you make any turn or maneuver, you first have to check for other cars, and then for pedestrians, and then for bikes. They all move at different speeds, and they will all become FURIOUS if you impede their progress for even a single instant. Boy, nothing like driving in a city you've never been to before, being completely lost trying to follow absolutely useless detour signs, and then also having to have complete 360-degree awareness of every moving object within 100 yards of your vehicle to create a nice stress-free environment. There were three adults in the car all looking around to make sure I didn't hit anyone/anything, and I still had a bicyclist become angry and shake his fist at me (I was nowhere near hitting him, I might add).

OH AND YOU ALSO HAVE TO WATCH OUT FOR STREETCARS. They also move at a different speed from the cars, pedestrians, and bikes.

Thankfully, once I had parked at my brother's place, we were safe from driving for a bit. We decided to take the streetcar train to a farmers' market and I was more than happy to leave the car behind for a while.

Off we went on the streetcar. So convenient, so quick, and free of charge to boot! Lovely!!! My brother hasn't memorized the system yet, being new to Portland and all, so he was watching our progress on GPS on his phone, ready to give us the word on when to get off. One of us asked him "how many more stops have we got to go?" and he answered "I'll let you know." It was at this point that the citizenry of Portland decided to insert themselves into our private conversation, because why not.

"Where are you trying to get?" asked a "helpful" young man in the stupidest f**king hat I have ever seen on a human. I didn't even have time to notice what else he was wearing because I was distracted by this hat. It was like a fishing hat, but made of straw. But it had a bunch of little charms hanging from it like a legit fishing hat. But he had no fishing paraphernalia with him -- just the hat. He was clearly wearing it for style. Also, he had douchebag facial hair and a douchebag face. I hated him immediately.

"The farmers' market!" my mom answered excitedly.

"Oh, you should get off here, then," said Stupid Hat. "It's just up the hill there."

For some reason, we listened to Stupid Hat. Why did we do this? I don't know. He just seemed so sure of himself. I mean, why would you butt in to someone else's conversation and give them directions unless you really knew what you were talking about?

Answer: you would do this if you were a 20-something Portland guy in a stupid f**king hat who needs to feel important for the briefest of moments even though you are an idiot.

So we got off the train and, 3/4 of a mile later, we arrived at the farmers' market only to realize that we could have stayed on the train and only had to walk like 2 blocks to get there. At this point I vowed to kill Stupid Hat if I ever saw him again.

Once we arrived at the farmers' market, I saw more stupid hats than I've ever seen before in one location. And my god, the fashion abominations I witnessed!!! 

I have a rule about shopping at thrift stores: it can be a great way to save money, but if I can look at your clothes and immediately know that you bought them at a thrift store, then you're doing it wrong. I'm talking about ill-fitting, completely out-of-fashion, moth-eaten hideous clothing that was clearly purchased in order to make a statement about how clothing is NOT how you define yourself. Yes, yes, I'm sure it isn't. That's why you spent hours putting together this wretched outfit to offend the eyes of everyone who sees you in it -- because people shouldn't judge each other based on their clothes.

I'm convinced that people who ACTUALLY feel that way about clothing tend to wear plain things like jeans and t-shirts everywhere. They certainly don't wear loud-print half-shirts with unmatching loud-print ankle-length hammer pants. Which is a real outfit that I saw some lady wearing.

And don't get me started on high-waisted short shorts. There's no excuse to ever wear those either, unless you're going out for Halloween dressed as "an asshole."

Also, bras aren't really optional, Portland. They're not. I don't care what your community college women's studies professor told you. Please wear a bra. A sports bra, a swimsuit top, even a tank top with a shelf bra built in will do. I'm not too picky. Just something that keeps your boobs from flopping down onto your stomach. This isn't National Geographic. I'm trying to eat lunch here.

After the farmers' market and a few other adventures, we attempted to drive to our hotel to check in and chill out for a bit before dinner. On this journey, we discovered that not only was the bridge over the river closed, but I-84 East was also closed. So, f**k you, Portland.

Anyway, once we eventually figured out how to get back and forth from the hotel to my brother's place, things mostly went okay. But it didn't matter -- the damage was done. Portland is a city that is impossible to drive anywhere in (because why drive when you can RIDE A BIKE OR TAKE THE TRAIN, right!??! Because this is America, dammit, and I like to drive! Plus we were traveling with a baby and all her baby-related accouterments  Not taking all that shite on the goddamned train). And it is full of annoying people in stupid hats and stupider clothing who want to get involved in your business and ruin your day by making you walk really far to get to a farmers' market when you're pregnant and forgot your back brace.

Also, it's entirely possible I spent too much time on the east coast before moving back out here. Entirely possible.

I'm way too immature to play Plague on the iPhone

A couple people told me I should play this iPhone game called Plague, Inc. Basically you start a plague and you get points to keep evolving it until you kill the whole world. Neat enough idea, I guess.

But you guys ... in a stroke of genius ... I named my disease "Butts."

"Butts."

Enjoy these butts, because the rest of them will not be nearly as nice.

Now, I've made some pretty solid decisions in my life -- decisions that have gotten me to where I am now, decisions that have brought me great happiness, and decisions that have set me up well for the future.

But none of those decisions even comes CLOSE to measuring up to the decision to name my disease "Butts."


The game consistently updates me on how my disease is doing. This means I get updates such as:

"Butts infects thousands."

"Butts has infected more people in the world than TB. It is a very infectious disease."

"Butts has been spotted."

"First death from Butts has been confirmed."

"Butts has infected more people in the world than HIV."

"Butts has mutated."

"Butts is the ultimate infectious disease."

"South Africa has become the first country to try to limit the spread of Butts by limiting access into and out of the country."

"Butts has mutated and developed the Cysts symptom."

"Normal life in Indonesia is beginning to break down due to Butts."

"Butts is spreading fast."

"Central Africa is first to fall into anarchy due to Butts."

"Butts has somehow managed to infect Greenland!"

"Butts placed on watchlist."

"Butts killed all its hosts."

BUTTS KILLED EVERYONE ON EARTH. THERE IS NO CURE FOR BUTTS!!!!

Also, if you want to play Plague, Inc, may I recommend naming your disease something awesome? If you need any ideas, just ask me -- I've got plenty.

 OH GOD SAVE YOURSELVES!!!!!

*drops microphone; strides off stage*

Terrible Movie Reviews: ERASER

Eraser is my FAVORITE bad Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Yes, I know there are plenty of other bad Arnold Schwarzenegger movies to choose from ... but for some reason, Eraser has and will always have a special place in my heart. This is specifically because of the alligator scene, if you must know. If you've seen the movie, you'd best know what I'm talking about. If you don't remember the alligator scene, you should just kill yourself.

Eraser stars Vanessa Williams (remember her? The chick that won Miss America but then they took away her crown because she did porn? And she sang the Colors of the Wind song for Pocahontas or whatever?) as some kind of high-ranking employee at a company that does mysterious and mostly bad things. In her role as a high-ranking employee at said company, she gets her hands on some evidence of wrongdoing at the highest levels, and decides to go all Edward Snowden on the place.

For shame, Vanessa. For shame.

The problem is, this was back in the olden days, and the proof Vanessa Williams took from her shady employers was stored on, like, a floppy disk or something.

Haha, remember these things??!

Since she couldn't upload the files to a Google doc or post them to Wikileaks or Reddit or something, she had to keep real careful track of that floppy disk. But of course, there were bad guys ... and the bad guys wanted that floppy disk GONE and Vanessa Williams DEAD.

Though if I recall correctly, there are much easier ways to destroy a floppy disk. Like, couldn't you just pull the magnetic part out and sneeze on it or something? Or get it within five feet of a common refrigerator magnet? What I'm trying to say is, floppy disks suck.

So Vanessa makes a copy of the disk and gives it to a reporter (the olden-days version of Reddit) but the bad guys kill the reporter and we're back to just one copy of the disk. Making copies of floppy disks is a pain in the ass, guys. Don't you remember? It takes forever! Plus this one was encrypted or something and the password wasn't Password123 so one copy was the best we were going to do.

The password couldn't be "Password123" because that would be too long. I bet it's "12345".

After some bad guys come to Vanessa's house to kill her with mysterious guns that can see through walls and shoot around corners (THEY HAVE GUNS THAT CAN DO THIS BUT THEY CAN'T BUILD A BETTER STORAGE DEVICE THAN A BLOODY FLOPPY DISK?), Arnold comes to her rescue and puts her into witness protection. Also, during this scene, they throw a pipe bomb filled with nails into Vanessa's kitchen and Arnold gets one right in his hand. Then they blow up her house. They're quite dramatic.

Ka-pow! And Arnold just pulls the nail out of his hand like it's whatever. He's a nut!

So anyway, now Vanessa is in witness protection and Arnold has told her not to trust anyone except him. And it's a good thing, because the bad guys have apparently infiltrated witness protection and are going to lure her out and kill her.

For some reasons that I can't quite recall, Vanessa Williams goes to the New York Zoo to meet Arnold. But it isn't actually Arnold that called her to meet -- it was the bad guys. She kind of knows something is up, so she brings along the gun that Arnold gave her and shoots a bad guy in the leg with it. This is where all hell breaks loose. The bad guys are there, and everyone is running around the zoo shooting at each other. With the exception of her point-blank leg shot, Vanessa has terrible aim and misses everything, succeeding only in embarrassing herself. I mean, why even bring a gun if you're going to be that awful at hitting things with it? Sheesh.

But where is Arnold?? Oh yeah, he got kidnapped or something and bad guys push him out of an airplane? Or maybe he crashes the airplane? I don't remember. All I know is that Arnold is falling through the air with a perilous parachute situation going on. He has to chase the parachute in freefall and then he gets hit with an airplane and falls onto a car. All of this really happens in the movie.

This also happens.

Somehow it all works out though and he gets to the zoo just in the nick of time, grabbing Vanessa away from the bad guys and taking her to hide in the Reptile House.

THE ALLIGATOR SCENE
Then the alligator scene happens. It is the best moment in film history outside of SyFy channel movies that probably stole the idea from Eraser in the first place. So no shit there they are, in the Reptile House. Vanessa is basically just really stupid dead weight at this point while Arnold fights all the bad guys, because that's what happens with beautiful women in movies and especially in scenes that take place in Reptile Houses. But somehow, over the course of all the fighting, the alligators escape from their tank. And so now the bad guys and the good guys are fighting whilst alligators roam free and try to attack them, because why not.

And then ...

AND THEN ...

omigod I'm so excited to write this next part I'm going to pee my pants I'm so excited ...



THE BAD GUYS GET EATEN BY TERRIBLE CGI ALLIGATORS. <-- this is a link to a clip of the scene. Please watch it and try not to laugh. You don't even need to turn the sound on.

First bad guy gets eaten.

Second bad guy gets eaten.

Third bad guy gets eaten.

Alligator moments before Arnold shoots it in the face. RAWR!

That's not lipstick; that's the blood of the DAMNED!

I don't even give a shit what else happens in the movie at this point. I think it turns out the bad guys have infiltrated the witness protection program right up to the highest levels, and a bunch more people get killed, and Vanessa Williams gets kidnapped to some dock full of bad guys, and blah blah blah ...



AND THEN ARNOLD FIGHTS SOMEONE ON TOP OF A SHIPPING CONTAINER THAT IS HANGING FROM A CRANE IN MIDAIR.

No shit, this is the climax of the movie.

Who the hell cares how the movie ends at that point? With so many awesome scenes, if you haven't seen this movie then you are MISSING. OUT. Go rent it right now. Watch the alligator scene over and over again. Pee your pants. Poop your pants.

Eraser.

Oh yeah, also as part of the climax of the movie, Arnold gets his hands on two of those heat-seeking around-the-corner guns that shoot waves of blue energy. "How can he possibly fire two of them at the same time?" you ask. "Not only would they be impossible to aim, but the recoil would knock him flat on his ass!" And to this I say only, shut the hell up. You suck. Nobody likes you.