Wahhh!

Uggg, I'm sick AGAIN, and the only internet access is dial-up. I'm not even sure which is worse.

When I woke up this morning as my dad left for work there was snow and ice everywhere. Then it rained a bit. Then it was warm and sunny enough to take the dog for a walk, and then a few minutes ago it was sleet, which then turned to mixed snow and rain. There's supposed to be an actual snowstorm in Portland tomorrow, so I guess I'll be hanging around here, as no one in Portland can seem to drive in the snow.

What a whiney little snot I am. In truth, all I did today was drink coffee, watch soccer and play with my dog. How could I possibly complain about that? And yet, I manage.

Hope everyone's enjoying their holidays.

Can't Sleep, Still Tired

I used to be able to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. I could also stay awake through pretty much anything, if I set my mind to it. 28-hour CQ shifts? No problem. I'd just sleep the rest of the next day, get up for a meal, and sleep another ten hours. So this whole insomnia thing is both new and annoying. Yesterday, or rather today, I didn't fall asleep until 7am! My housemate was already up and moving around the recyclables and taking out the trash, while I lay there with the shakes from being so fucking tired, and yet unable to actually do anything about it. According to the Navy's Sunrise/Sunset table, on the 23rd the sun sets at 4:31, a whole minute later than yesterday and today. Maybe that'll cure it. Yeah.

PS, I'm still not done with my Christmas shopping. Is it over yet?

...

I am bored, bored, BORED.

It occurred to me while I sat here in my boredom, that I may be graduating in six months. No longer getting a government paycheck then, I would have to find a job. So, I went to peruse the job listings and immediately, began plotting ways to extend my time in school. Man, does the real world ever suck!

The only jobs I'm qualified for either involve guns and uniforms, and/or measure their vacation time in hours. Even dishwashers need experience these days. The entry-level archaeology work that's out there is stuff like "5 weeks in Georgia - no per diem", "3 weeks in Illinois. per diem $12." While living out of a suitcase and bouncing around the country without health insurance sounds like fun for, say, a year or so, I can't imagine doing it for very long. On the other hand, as I wouldn't be employed for more than a few months at a time, I could go on "vacation" whenever I pleased.

Also, I need to find a new place to live. I'm quite pleased with myself that I've managed to live with a woman who's owned her own place for longer than I've been alive without any major clashes. I really do have a lot of patience for odd behavior, but it's gotten to the point where I feel that I shouldn't have to live with an adult - one who's much more adult-y than me - who needs an explanation as to why hammering on the dining room ceiling at 12:30am is not an acceptable practice. Same goes for vacuuming (indoors and out??) at 11:00pm, and leaving the lawn mower running outside my window (where there's no grass!) at 6:30am on a Sunday. I've also never gotten used to the fact that everyone in the neighborhood has a key to the house and that they come and go whenever they want. It's like a train station, except that everything I own is in it.

Anyway, point is, if I move now I can actually get a place that requires a lease for a bit, especially if I stay the summer for an extra semester. Let's see, last summer they offered a class in Bond movies.... it'll be a productive extra time in school, no doubt!

Why am I only sick when I have time off?

I don't think I've been sick on a work or school day in at least eight years. Think that'll get me a discount on health insurance someday? Probably not. Anyway, it's Christmas vacation and I'm sick and grumpy.

I needed some decaf tea, so I went to Trader Joe's since they usually have a big selection of hippy-dippy things. I should've known better, though. There are always cute guys at Trader Joe's, always - mid-morning on a Monday, Friday evening, it doesn't matter. Today it was full of 'em, looking adorable with their fuzzy winter stubble, knitted scarves, and cute jackets. And there I was, a sniffling, red-nosed ball of leave-me-alone.

Hopefully tomorrow I can pull off a trip to the mall without disgusting the employees and other customers. I'd like to get this Christmas shopping done so I can go to my parents and watch tv for a few days, ideally without infecting the rest of the family.

Ow

I'm pretty much a walking blood clot today. I really can't think of another time in my life when I've been so covered in bruises, save for maybe that one six-week period when I got to be arrested and searched several times a day.

The damage started on Saturday when Dude on Blue Team mistook my left thigh for the goal and rocketed no less than three shots into the exact same spot on my leg. Watching this bruise spread throughout my upper leg has been fascinating, really, and I was looking forward to showing it off to my teammates this weekend, but alas, it seems I have to miss the game for a going-away party.

Last night Flogging Molly played in Portland. Naturally, I went. Since I've seen this band umpteen times and have been obnoxiously sober at every show, I decided that pre-show drinks were called for. Plus, the shitty semester had just ended and it was Repeal Day. Repeal Day! Why haven't I celebrated this before? Why hadn't I even really HEARD of this before? You'd think the day Prohibition was repealed would become a holiday with more booze consumed than St Paddy's. On the trip between the Yammy and the Roseland, Tim and I were surrounded by a group of people that insisted we take buttons in honor of Repeal Day. Buttons! Mine says, "Drink to your Rights!"

In any case, the alcohol gave me the idea that I could hang out in the mosh pit the entire damn show and shove around large men without consequences. And even after the show as I trudged through the puddles and drizzle to wait for my bus it seemed like that plan had worked out.

But then I woke up this morning and couldn't straighten my leg. Seems like I was kicked just above the original bruise on my thigh, possibly doubling the size of it. It's right where the muscle flexes, too, so it's made its presence known all day. In addition, I have some of those awesome bright red bruises along both shin bones, my knee, and the tops of both feet. My shoulder is killing me and I don't know what's going on with my back, but there are sore spots all over it, too.

Thank god for Gatorade and Mexican food, though. Nothing kills a hangover quicker.

PS, The top of my head! I just scratched my head and IT'S BRUISED TOO! DAMMIT!!!!!

Oooo!

I'm pretty excited, because a test and a paper is all that's between me and getting to read what I want to read and watching the movies I want to watch. That, and I got to watch some soccer and drink lots of yummy beer today.
I got up early to practically break in the back of the pub to watch the Tottenham-Birmingham game. Not only were the front doors shut, but they had iron gates locked in front. I could see people inside, obviously ordering food and coffee, and the game was on in the background. So I wandered around in the back, not seeing anything promising, when an older guy with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth asked me what I was up to, with a British accent. "Everyone knows ya come in the back to watch the f--, uh, soccer games. We're not officially open until 9." Ohh, everyone, huh? Now that I was officially in the cool kids club, I could direct my late arriving friends to the inconspicuous door and feel all knowledgeable and stuff. Nearly everything I wanted to happen in the game did - Birmingham won, and Robbie Keane scored a bunch of goals (he's on my fantasy team) - save for Keane getting a stupid red card.
But the best part of today was visiting the Holiday Ale Fest, which is a big beer tasting for local seasonal ales. Winter ales are apparently defined by being really strong; there was only one beer under 6.5%, and several over 10%. When I went last year, I spent most of my time jammed elbow-to-stomach under the giant tent. This time we got there right when it opened, so we got a choice of tables and didn't have to wait in line once, even after the crowds started to show up. I tasted a few duds, but was overall pleased with the rest of the stuff I got. My friend and I ended up staying far later than we intended, and a cute guy kept smiling at me and even ventured over to talk once (but was scared off by my friend, accidentally). He seemed like an Oregonian, although as he asked if Widmer's was any good, obviously not a Portlander. He couldn't have been a more stereotypical Northwesterner, though. His beard, flannel shirt and impossibly gruff voice said, "My ancestors cut down trees. With their teeth." He recommended the "Jim" beer, which clocked in at 10% alcohol, to which I politely nodded and went with a safer 7%er.
There's this monster storm - two of them, actually - expected to hit Portland today. There's already been 105 mph winds on the coast and it's been pouring here all day, but not much wind-wise has happened in the city. The one gust that did hit knocked out a corner of the large tent at the beer fest and caused the middle of the tent to partially collapse, which then resulted in gallons of rainwater gushing all over the patrons. I felt sorry for the guy who's going to have to take down all the Christmas lights while in ankle deep water. After the moment of excitement, people cheered. Beer will do that, I guess.
Anyway, I should study a bit, before I have to read by candlelight.

I'm boring

Hopefully it's a temporary condition.

Busted my ass... literally

Tonight, while performing the arduous task of pulling a document out of the printer, I strained what I imagine to be my glute muscle. I guess that's a more polite way of saying I broke my ass. Not only is it embarrassing and painful, but I have to miss again the intramural soccer game I've been invited to for the past two weeks. I haven't even met the guy managing the team yet. He's going to think I'm the biggest flake on earth after this.

The document I was pulling out of the machine was some notes from my English history class, which has so far been really disappointing. Any professor that takes attendance instantly causes me to resent the class. I'm an adult. If I don't want to come to class, that's my decision. I'll face the consequences - but those consequences should be not performing as well on the test and/or essays as I've missed important information. If you need to trick people into coming to class by assigning ticky-tack work due every few days, or by docking points for not being in attendance, perhaps you need to think about how effective your lectures are. I don't think students should be rewarded just for showing up in class, even if they don't know the material, and I don't think students should be punished simply because they didn't HAVE to go to class to understand the material. Effort shouldn't be rewarded without results. Anyway, this instructor is all about ticky-tack assignments and almost worse, discussions. I don't give money to the university to learn about history via a fellow undergrad. So, I haven't been to class a whole lot due to plain ol' disgust, but I probably have missed a lot of information. Let's hope the test tomorrow goes alright (I have done a shit ton of reading).

Gad, my ass hurts.

PS, Firefox thinks 'gad' is a word. Interesting.

The Pogues Recap

Last night's show is something that I'll look back on for a very long time, possibly always, with fondness. Seeing The Pogues was second on my list Things To Do In Life, right under catching a reunion of The Clash, which even prior to Joe Strummer's death was an unlikely possibility. Now I can look at a poster of "THE POGUES! LIVE! NEW YEAR'S EVE!!" without jealousy and a sigh of resignation. Man, all these great bands were just before my time... And now whenever I'm sitting in a bar, or playing the ipod on random and on come The Pogues, I can smile and think back to that one time that I actually got to see them in real life.

It was nice to just see Shane MacGowan in the flesh, doing what he does: mumbling, smiling, singing. I stood on my tiptoes for the better part of the first few songs, hardly believing that it was really them. OB, one of the four other friends that drove up with us, commented afterwards that the first quarter of the set was worrying, and that he thought Shane sounded bad, like he wasn't going to last the night. But something clicked right around "A Pair of Brown Eyes", which coincidentally, was the one song OB had most wanted to hear. The next song was my pick, "Boys from the County Hell." Something did happen though around this point, whether or not things were off in the beginning. The crowd got rowdier, Shane started smiling more, and everything became smooth and relaxed. Shortly after that was another song I really hoped to hear (honestly, though, what didn't I want to hear?), "Bottle of Smoke" and I finally went bouncing into the pit.

Funnily enough, I recognized at least half the crowd as being from Portland. A large contingent of the Timbers Army was there, scarves and all, as well as members of a band I'd recently seen, and friends of friends, and people that I just recognized as familiar faces. There was lots of, "Oh! Hey! How's it going?" while running around the pit.

Shane mumbled something nearly incomprehensible between songs at one point (ok, at every point), and mentioned the word "Seattle" to which some people cheered. A kid next to me quietly said, "Yeah, better than Portland," directing his comment towards the scarf-waving group, safely out of earshot from him. I rolled my eyes at him and said something equally inventive, like, "ah, fuck Seattle!" He just looked as his shoes. Man, Seattlites are lame. Can't even banter decently. Between the encores we started some slightly modified Timbers chants (well, the one that mentioned the Timbers wasn't so modified, but at that point the band was back on stage).

I managed to make it all the way to the first encore before being punched in the mouth, but man did it hurt this time! I think my teeth actually moved a little bit and the inside of my lip is still torn up as I type this. For the most part though, the pit was very friendly (the whole fist to the mouth thing was an accident) and everyone was just damn excited to be seeing The Pogues, and because there were so many familiar faces, it almost made it seem like our own private show with friends.

Afterwards, soaked in sweat, a wee bit drunk, and nearly entirely out of money, the five of us crammed into a cab and then into a hotel room, watched Conan O'Brien and chatted about the show. I was the first one up this morning, so I sneaked downstairs to get some alone time, drink some coffee and read a bit. The rest of the day was spent driving around Seattle - driving being about the only thing one does in that area - stopping at a vegan cafe and one of their friend's houses. We made it down to the waterfront in the afternoon, right in the middle of some weird windstorm, and had a little time to walk through Pike Place. Kat wanted to take me to a bookstore called The Left Bank, and while we were there OB talked to one of the guys from The Pogues! I heard a British accent coming from downstairs, but I figured he owned the place or something. OB was quite pleased with himself, as you can imagine.

Tim got us all the way back to Portland without causing any death, destruction or speeding tickets. The boys had been teasing me all day saying I looked depressed and asking me every five minutes, "Are you OK???" just to bother me, and honestly, I was a little cranky for a bit. But by the end of the trip, I was in Zen mode and Ob was the anxious one. "Ya know how on transatlantic flights sometimes people get these blood clots and die? Yeah, I wish that would happen to me right now." It was a great mid-week weekend, but we're all glad to be home.

Tomorrow! The Pogues!

I can hardly believe it, really. Stuff to do beforehand, which should keep me busy until it's finally time to drive up to Seattle, like going to class (there's a boy there that actually talks to me), getting a haircut (it's gotten kind of ridiculous), going to the gym (I'm sick of getting beaten in the second half because I'm too fatigued to move quickly), and mail some bills (my housemate's outta town, which is great because I can be grumpy and asocial in peace, but sucky because I have to pay the water bill and stuff and don't get reimbursed until December or something).

My lazy ass finally got around to posting some pictures and new posts on my travel blog, so take a look if you're bored. Note though that I don't really expect anyone to read all that gibberish; I'll admit that blog is mostly a selfish endeavor.

Still here

[Listening to: unholy amounts of Billy Bragg
Reading: lots. specifically, Hawaiian Fisherman, andThe Unnatural History of the Sea, plus various textbooks/papers/blah]

I have this class at 7:45 in the morning. This means that I'm always tired. Combined with the declining amounts of daylight and the occasional oddly scheduled soccer game - midnight-15!? I'm awake until four am after that! - and it's a struggle to get basic tasks accomplished. So that's my excuse for the lack of blogging. I need another vacation.

Heyyy-yyy

Hi everyone! I've been back a few days, kind of (still adjusting a bit). Got home Monday morning and had to run to class at 7:45am. Yay!!! I'm still finishing up some postings for my travel blog and I'll have those done eventually. Just wanted the blogosphere to know that I'm alive and that very soon I will have clean and dry clothes to wear. You know you were dying to hear that.

so I've been posting

on my travel blog, but not today because I have no time and have to return to the little island of Achill here in a bit. They don't have much in the way of internet access out there. Then tomorrow I get to wake up eaaaaaaaaaaaarly and walk a couple of miles to catch the bus which eventually takes me to Cork. How anywhere in Ireland is 9 hours and 52 minutes away from anywhere else in the country still baffles me. Poo, I wish my time on Achill wasn't so rushed, I rather enjoyed my hike there yesterday.

Tomorrow!

Off tomorrow to Dublin! My flight doesn't leave until 11:30am and because it's actually out of Portland and not all the way up in Seattle, all I have to do is wander up to the MAX station and take the light rail over to the airport. A 20-minute train ride is a helluva lot better than a 3-5 hour drive, and I don't have to deal with parking and having someone pick up my car.

Of course I haven't packed, but since my layover in Atlanta is not nearly enough time to pick up baggage, recheck in, and then go through customs and security I'm only packing what I can fit in a carry-on - basically, a change of clothes and a camera. On the way home, I have an 8-hour layover in New York, so I can bring home all the goodies I want, plus probably have time to take the bus into Manhattan or something and have a drink. More than likely though I'll just hang out at JFK and watch the birds (did I blog about that before? There were birds all over that damn airport last time I went through there).

Timbers won away! Shittle lost at home! Back to the top of the table! In this league, "winning the league" is only a cup and it's not a very important one at that. So while it's nice to chant "we're top of the league!" it doesn't really mean a whole lot. Plus, it seems that every team to win the Commissioner's Cup, as it's called, has lost badly in the first round of the playoffs. As I'm missing the first two rounds of the playoffs this would be UNACCEPTABLE. I refuse to believe I've been to my last Timbers game this year. As it is, I'll be wandering around Ireland, searching for broadband to try and watch online in the middle of the night. I will be back for the championship, however. It'd be nice, and it's quite likely too, if we played one of the Cascadia teams in the championship. That way even if it's an away game, a lot of supporters could make the trip.

OK, gonna write down some phone numbers, make some lists, check 'em twice. Next post will be on Are We There Yet?.

Pretend this is dated Aug 24th, very early in the morning

Like a great concert, sometimes writing about a soccer game takes all the magic out of it. I don't feel I could really do it justice by writing either a paragraph or a dissertation. But in any case, I should at least mention on here that the last home game of the season for the Portland Timbers was incredible.

Last Thursday I rushed back up to Portland from Corvallis with hopes of making it home with enough time to eat, change and possibly shower before the match. Rush hour traffic shortened that routine to "park car, put on t-shirt, grab scarf", and as I rounded the corner near Belmont, I saw my bus zoom past. Then, after waiting another twenty minutes the next bus's driver waved at me and went right past the stop. I looked at the telephone pole at the corner and sure enough, about fifteen feet in the air was a "bus stop closed" sign. Grr.

Finally, I was about ten blocks from the park in downtown, but the traffic was unusually thick. Too far west for construction, too late in the evening for rush hour I thought, "surely, this has nothing to do with the game. There aren't THAT many soccer fans in Portland." But the bus was moving so slowly that I finally got off and walked the remaining blocks. Indeed, it was the game that was causing all the traffic havoc. Five minutes before kickoff and there were at least 3,000 people outside, still waiting in line for tickets. PGE Park staff set up an emergency cash-only table to speed things along and I sneaked to the front of the line and got in rather quickly. Even though it was "Thirsty Thursday" and therefore the beer was only $2 ($3.25 for the good stuff), I skipped it in fear that I would miss the majority of the first half, so long were the lines for concessions. Imagine, me skipping beer!!!

I found my friends who had gotten themselves a decent spot and crammed into a row that held at least 1/3 more people than it was meant to. The stadium looked more full than it had for the A.C. Milan youth friendly earlier this year, which had been our season high for attendance, and people were still streaming in. In fact, park staff had to tear off the tarps covering the seats way the hell up in the top corners and thirty-five minutes into the first half there were still people arriving. There were at least four sections in the North End standing and even pockets of people in the expensive seats were on their feet.

The chants were a bit disconnected due to the unusually large size of the loud end, and the presence of a lot of newer fans that didn't know the words added to the confusion in the first half. But as the game wore on and the Timbers had more and more scoring opportunities, things started to click. At one point on a corner kick the chanting was so loud that even though I was screaming as loud as I could, I still couldn't hear myself. Usually at Timbers games, there are 2 1/2 to 3 sections of standing, singing supporters and the rest of the stadium is sparsely populated by quiet families. Thursday night, that imaginary line was blurred.

When we finally scored in the 78th minute, after the last 2-3 home games ending in 0-0 draws, the place went predictably nuts. The giantass flag was passed up and while it was overhead someone I might know dropped a smoke bomb; there was pogoing, hugging, and crowd surfing; the new owner (who thought he was buying a baseball team) went racing up and down the stairs, screaming, and helping the flag along. I had to wrap my scarf around my face to filter the smoke, all the while still screaming and jumping (and coughing). It just occurred to me that the reason I didn't get hit with a cup of beer like I normally do is because, due to the lines, no one else got any beer either. (Oddly, I did get splashed with beer at the pub afterwards. Figures.) The goal itself was beautiful - a one-touch left footer from a defender after it had bounced out of the area. Centerback Justin Thompson's first goal of the season! After the game when he collected his slice of log, he looked so happy he could cry.

Anyway, attendance was announced at 15,833. That nearly 16,000 people came out on a weeknight to watch USL Division soccer (2nd tier, under MLS) is just amazing. Although I won't be there, I can only hope all those people come back for the playoffs and cheer us into the championship (which I WILL be back for!). And who wouldn't come back after that? I already can't wait for next year.

Brief respite

I apologize if I haven't: returned your email/posted a blog/read your blog/wished you a happy birthday/visited/come over for poker/answered the phone when you called. I've been BUSY. Then I tried to avoid time online becaue I was absolutely sick of computers, words and typing. So here's a quick update of thoughts and things

- Once again I get a bizarre grade. At least this time it's in my favor. I'll call it even with this guy.

- I'm not one for cultural stereotypes, but I have to admit I did chuckle a bit when, after 90 minutes of watching Americans try to play soccer, on came a commerical for a British flossing mechanism.

- SOMEBODY SCORE A FRIGGIN' GOAL!! If I see one more draw I'm going to scream! Thursday is the last regular season match for the Timbers and it better be like 5-0. Us.

- The Caribbean in January sounds nice, yeah? I may do a field school there during my semester long boycott of PSU. If I don't decide to drag things out I should graduate the semester after that, in June.

- Fall term I have room for another class. I'm thinking a foreign language. So what is it? In alphabetical order, the options: Arabic, Chinese, Danish, Pashto, Ancient Greek, Modern Greek, French, German, Herbrew, Italian, Japanese, Korean (no!), Latin, Norwegian, Persian, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, Swahili, Turkish. Yeah, I'm amazed at the selection, too.

- Fall term currently looks like: Environmental Anthropology, English History 1066-1660, Transnationalism & Migration.

- I dropped a class I need for my minor in order to see the Pogues in Seattle, and even fronted the money for a bunch of friends so that they could get tickets too. Now, they've added a show for the following day, which would have been much more convenient and then just yesterday it was announced that the U.S. women's national soccer team (undefeated in something like 180 games) will be playing against Mexico in Portland on the very day for which I bought tickets.

- I've booked a room at Trinity College. Dublin was the only place I was worried about finding a room at the beginning of September, and I'm not too concerned about other places. I need to contact my ex-squadmate in England to see if he's going to still be around. That and finding tickets to the Cork City soccer game are my priorities on the trip planning side of things right now.

- This cool, rainy summer rocks.

I hope everyone is doing well! I'll stop by again when I'm back at my house where the internet (crappy DSL) is like lightning compared to the stoneage dialup my parents have.

Early Morning/Late Night Revelations

1) I really, really like The Frames. They're a bit too acousticy/soft for me to admit that I enjoy on a regular basis, but lucky for you tonight I have no such concept as "too much information" or anything like it.

2) That really was me climbing on top of the baseball dugouts to swear at the atrocious referees after tonight's 0-0 draw between the Timbers and the Vancouver Whitec(r)aps. I could have sworn our manager gave me a huge grin as I took over the jawing for him as the refs entered the tunnel. Handballs galore, no understanding of the offside rule, and fear of handing out a second red card... it all makes me wish I wasn't such an over-sensitive pansy and hadn't quit refereeing when I was 15. Two things are preventing American soccer from being taken seriously right now: crap pitches and referees. Real grass pitches are unlikely to come about for U.S. soccer due to the cost of maintenance and the fact that in order to remain economically viable, MLS teams need to rent out their stadium for concerts and other non-soccer events. Refs on the other hand... there's no excuse. If there's training being given to 13-year-olds (the age I was when first sent to ref school), then there's absolutely no excuse for not knowing the intricacies of offside by the time one reaches the professional level.

3) Yeah, I probably drank your beer. If you remember my name I'll probably buy you another one.

4) PGE Park security are a buncha sweethearts compared to those assholes in Shittle. After said referees escaped down the tunnel the uniformed woman said to me, "Ok, that's enough now. Alright, c'mon now, let's go." They even let me back in to grab my sweatshirt! I'd be in King County jail right now if that'd happened last week.

5) I have grand intentions of getting up in time to bike down to the pub by 8:00am to watch the ManUtd-Reading match. Something has to make up for today's abysmal Fantasy League showing. It's 2:40am. Fuck.

6) I'm sorry. Whatever happened to you tonight, I'm sure I'm partly to blame. I didn't brew the beer, if that's any consolation.

7) They're long albums, "Burn the Maps" and "For the Birds", but I still like The Frames. Don't tell the punk kids, ok?

Hooray, the Housemate's Gone!

I can play mah gee-tar and mah man-doh-leen like a freewoman!! Yeeeeahawwwwwwwwwwwww!!!

OK, I had to take a few minute break to strum some sad-sounding chords on the guitar. Amazingly, I feel better now.

Ya see, we played these horrible people with my part-time indoor soccer team. They were like the offspring of a Shittle-Italy lovefest. Basically, and I don't use this term lightly (or ever, really), they were a buncha cunts. All of them. They were starting fist fights away from the ball. Their one decent female would flail on the ground any time a man legitimately stole the ball from her, get the call, and then scream at the player who tried to help her up; earlier, she charged our keeper, totally intentionally, elbowed him in the face and then fell over to avoid getting a card for it. One guy refused to give me ten yards for the free kick, even after I kicked him in the nuts, and then fucking smirked at me when the ref seemed oblivious that this was even a rule. I hope this temp team of mine invites me back for the next time we play them.

Gah, I'm mad all over again.

I'm also mad at one of my professors. Not only is he assigning a ridiculously long paper for a short term, seemingly for aesthetic reasons only he decided - TONIGHT, with 2 1/2 weeks left - that it should only been 1 1/2 spaced, as opposed to the university standard of double spaced. This actually makes a significant difference! Besides, it was only last week that he got around to approving everyone's topic ideas, five weeks into the term. I fail to see how this is the fault of the students.

In other news, I'm on a self imposed no-drinking-without-supervision streak, due to the ridiculousness of last week's activities. In fact, I hate beer.

Searching for warm places, fun things in January

First of all, No Pity Ale is one aptly named beverage. Criminey. Second, the limeys lost to our "3rd rate yank team," as one messageboard poster called us, and now their coach is all wah wah wah about it. The turf! The ref! Wahhhh! Yeah, the ref sucked, but the ref always sucks. Shitty refereeing is as constant as the shitty surface at PGE; it's not like they brought out the dud just to spoil PNE's last match in the U.S..

But, to the point. I have nothing to do this winter. This is due to my department at PSU only offering a certain degree-requirement class once a damn year, which means that while my credits are fulfilled by December, I have to wait until April to get that last class. Graduating in June as opposed to December is pretty disappointing, but that's life, I guess.

I do have a list of options for this winter, which have already been mentioned: more school, take advantage of my last year of eligibility for a student rate Eurorail pass, work some shitty minimum wage job, etc. Just added to the list is teaching English in Korea. The first downside to that that comes to mind is that Korea is fuckin' ugly in the winter. Brown, brown, brown with a backdrop of grey. Second downside, is that I've already been there and while I miss it, I'm not sure I want to spend another three months. The advantage to working in Korea is that it usually pays well, and even if it all goes to hell, I speak Korean, I've lived there before and know how to function, and I have friends that are still there.

I'm also looking at internship/volunteer/field school stuff for archaeology. I found one for Malta (how cool would that be!), but I'm pretty sure I'm already past the deadline, as it's more of a study abroad than a normal work position.

The job fairy needs to get her act together and drop a deal on my head that involves good pay in a warm, foreign place that doesn't have any work visa hassles. Is that too much to ask for?

Should be a Good Day...

...now that I've finally gotten around to starting it (it's 3). The Oregon Brewer's Festival is going on down at the waterfront, and then in the evening the Timbers are playing a friendly against Preston North End. Unfortunately for the latter event, I don't have tickets, and because I can't just buy a general admission ticket and sit where I please like in a normal match, I'll probably end up seated next to a buncha soccer moms and their kids, which means there'll be no standing, singing or swearing. Booooo. Plus, not a single one of my friends and family who would like to go can make it. But it should be a good game, anyway. PNE is bound to be sick of losing on this tour, and Portland will be loathe to end their undefeated-at-home streak (the entire season so far, including friendlies) to a team that just lost to Seattle (and if you were wondering how Timbers' fans feel about Seattle, it starts off with "build a bonfire..."). Plus, I'm not sure how I feel about losing to a team that plays in the Coca-Cola League, is called the Lilywhites, and has the mascot of a lamb. But hey! one time they won the Double! ......in 1889.

I was extremely tired this morning, and a bit paranoid that I'm going to die of food poisoning due to the nearly raw burger I ate half of last night (oh god, that isn't tomato?), but I had work to do, so I rearranged some cables so that I could work on my laptop from bed. Sadly, there seems to be something wrong with my lappy and it won't download stuff or run new programs, so I had to get up and run the desktop anyway. Oh well, the Brewfest runs through tomorrow, I guess. I played a lot of soccer this week, and all of the teams I've played with like to go out afterward and nullify the good effects of exercise by drinking a lot of beer, so this week I've been getting more and more dehydrated. Maybe a day off would be good.

Thirsty Thursday and the Singapore Prison Whore

Thursdays at PGE park, regardless of the sport being played, are $2 beer nights.
Cheap beer + soccer = great night, bad morning. [that's two posts in a row now with math equations in the first paragraph. that's a trend that needs to stop. I apologize.]

I got to the pub a little early and without a group of friends to blend with, I was immediately roped into conversation with an older gentlemen at the bar (this week I seem to be flypaper to extremely talkative strangers) and it wasn't until the end of a two-beers-long tirade on George Bush that my friends showed up to the rescue, full of snark, of course ("*snort* Sorry to interrupt things with your boyfriend there," etc). As they had catching up to do we didn't get to the park until a few minutes before game time, and were caught in the aisle when the national anthems played.

A little background on the post title: Vancouver's keeper awhile back played with our current manager for a team in Singapore. During that gig he was arrested and convicted of match fixing and spent 100 days in a Singapore prison. Newspapers have him as practically innocent and a scapegoat, but our manager isn't so lenient (although, I think this is just mind games with the other team, not necessarily his actual opinion), saying he cost their former team in money and reputation. In any case, this made the perfect fodder for many chants throughout the evening, particularly in the second half when he was posted directly in front of the supporters. The most popular one went like this:

Singapore prison whore
How many goals will you let us score?

Genius.

The answer to that question, by the way, is two. Although Vancouver scored first, no one seemed to be that concerned as unlike the previous game we were playing extremely well, actually passing and dribbling as opposed to chasing down long balls. Not long later our captain put in the equalizer and sometime in the second half (things started to get fuzzy for me about then) the SPW let a ball slip past him, right in front of all of us (haaaaaaaha!). Nothing seemed threatening from then on, even in the ridiculous four minutes of stoppage time.

Afterwards, I was dragged to the post-match bar and was forced to drink many more pitchers than I intended, despite telling everyone that I had a paper to write. Band practice was the excuse they used to justify their sudden inability to consume the large quantities of beer they'd just purchased, so apparently their priorities and commitments outweigh my paper. Bah to them.

My head was grateful this morning for the complete lack of sunlight, the low temperatures, and the on and off rain showers. However, after worming my way into an additional twelve hours for my paper, it's one in the morning and I have to spend the day tromping around the mountain again for class, which starts too, too soon.

This summer is way too busy for my lazy ass

(19 credits X 8 weeks) + social life = exhaustion, possible impossibility.

Holy crap I'm tired. I was only home for a total of about one hour this weekend, thanks to an eight-hour class on Mt. Hood and fulfilling an agreement with my parents to check on their cats/garden while they are galavanting around the Canadian Rockies. Immediately after the mountain class, I bussed home to grab the only thing I really needed for the 80-mile trip south: a book for the paper that was due Sunday. I didn't even need to bring a toothbrush, just the book. It would really suck if I didn't bring the book, since I had to drive home and had planned on watching the Timbers game Sunday evening. Yeah, I forgot the goddamn book. Plus, there was no food in the house, barely any coffee, the hotwater was shut off, the note with instructions was swept under the table and I didn't find it until Sunday morning, the cats took 45 minutes to locate and I stepped on some sort of fur/shitball in the doorway. It was also the annual Philomath Frolic and Rodeo, an event that totally destroys a perfectly neat word like "frolic" by making it into an event about rednecks and really bad music. Said bad music was reverberating around the valley that night and accompanied by the near nonstop wail of sirens (no doubt picking up the drunks leaving the rodeo) that kept me awake even after I'd managed to get to bed.

I didn't get out of there until 1:30 on Sunday, and got caught in traffic on the freeway, further adding to my delay. I elected to go to the Timbers game, rather than attempt to write a shitty paper moments before the deadline. Turned in today, it's only ten points off. I think I can live with that.

The game was a lot of fun, even if I had to guzzle diet coke in order to stay awake in the beginning. The team was playing the California Victory for the fifth and final time this season, and the for the second time in three days. Everyone is sick of them, even if we keep getting points. Somehow the Losers scored first and there was confusion in the stands. But right before halftime the score was evened up. Then, midway in the second half, substitute David Hague came in and almost before anyone knew he was on the field, scored a goal. 20 minutes later and he had a hat trick. Hague is a rookie and brings with him an awesome Geordie accent a even more awesomer scoring ability. Hooray, we have an offense! Apparently, this is the first hat trick this season for the LEAGUE, let alone the team.

Speaking of, We're on top of the league and we're takin a piss!

Wow, last year I didn't see the Timbers score a goal, let alone win a game. This year, we're undefeated at home and on top of the league! Sadly, I've just discovered that my trip to Ireland will coincide with the semi and quarter finals for playoffs. I will, however, be home in time to catch the championship. :)

Ok, have to write a paper and ride my bike around N. Portland taking pictures. Sounds kinda fun but also tiring. Too bad I can't fake picture taking.

One more thing: Figures that my first time on TV I'd have a beer in my hand. And no, I'm not telling you where I am. From the Friday match.

A Day at the Mountain

A Night at the Ballgame

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! wait, YES...maybe.

First HELLFUCKINGYEAH!!!! The Pogues - THE FUCKING POGUES - are playing in Seattle! Sucks that it's not Portland, but I can live with a three-hour drive to see one of the greatest bands ever, right? 'Cept I have class that day. It's a one day a week evening class that's four hours long. It's a class I don't need for graduation, but pretty much need for employment/grad school. Why WHY WHYYYYYYYYYYYY couldn't there be another show??

But wait! There may be! Rumors are that Seattle will have 2, possibly 3. Pollstar has a second one posted already! There may be hope! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!

Bloggy Stuff

In preparation for whenever the hell I get out of school and out of the country again, I've started a travel blog. This is so I can send my family to a place they can read about happenings (so I don't have to call them all the damn time), but that isn't linked back to my personal blog in case they get nosy. (like I post about anything interesting anyway) The blog is called "Are we there yet?" and is located here, for all you that like to type things in by hand: http://maps-shmaps.blogspot.com/

Also, I've added some soccer links here on the main page. Timbers won tonight! Three goals in 9 minutes! Currently we're in fourth place, but with 4-6 games in hand on the top three. We're gonna win the leeeeeeeeeeeeeeague, we're gonna win the league!

The week in review

Yawn.

It's been hot, I've had some schoolwork to do. That about sums up the majority of the week. Wednesday, the fourth, was pretty cool, though. The previous day, in an attempt to get home at a reasonable time and pick up groceries on the way, I got on the MAX.... on the wrong line. How I mistook red for yellow I still don't understand, but when I figured it out, three stops beyond the point where the two lines diverge, I ran into a friend who then invited me to his 4th o' July BBQ. I accepted thinking that maybe I'd get to meet some new people.

It turns out, however, that he lives with some old Corvallis friends of mine and even more of them showed up! These were people I haven't seen in at least 7 years. There was plenty of beer, plenty of food, plenty of other neat stuff. And, as coincidence would have it, I ended up in left in a room with two other people: one of them was an expert in Celtic languages, one in Celtic mythology. "heh, and my focus is in Irish archaeology." "Whoa," we all said.

That conversation was only broken up over the prospect of finding a suitable place to watch fireworks. This is ordinarily the exciting part of town where people ask you if know where they can find their drug dealer and real life prostitutes hang out on real life corners, and that night it was only amplified by the illegal fireworks exploding everywhere. The roof ended up being the best place to get a panorama view of both the fireworks and the firetrucks and ambulances zooming around dealing with the mayhem caused by drunks/idiots/children (and occasionally all three) shooting fire at one another. Plus, it'd been a long time since I'd drank tequila on a roof on the Fourth of July.... in fact, not since I lived in Corvallis!

Thursday? Not so great. Early morning class, then soccer on the lava field (have I mentioned it's hot?). While I was peeling off my ultra-smelly socks, I started talking to the only other girl that shows up regularly. Turns out she's also from Corvallis and knows nearly all of my friends! Small, small world this is.

Hot Guy has reappeared in my evening class.... and he cut his hair. :D

Double-Oh Sunburn

What a day. After staying up a bit later than I intended, I crawled out of bed at six-something to pack for a day on the mountain. This is a FULL TERM for me. Forty-five straight minutes of soccer in the sun for four days a week, a six-credit community oriented "capstone" class, an online anthropology class on American culture, an evening class in Euro Prehistory (which I was superduper excited about until he assigned a fifteen-page research paper. in an 8-wk course!), and then a course on the geography of Mt. Hood. Today was the first field trip for that class, consisting of eight hours on and around the mountain.

At our first stop at a town nearby, I talked with a man who has visited from New Jersey 14 times. Holy crap, MOVE HERE ALREADY! He was appalled that most of us hadn't spent much time in the area, despite only living an hour away. He asked if we at least skied. "Yeah, I've been snowboarding. Once. In Korea." He wasn't impressed. But he was certainly nicer than the metermaid I tried to interview who looked at me like I was trying to sell her bibles or something. Although, I have to admit, receiving a scathing look from a character who is so deplored herself did make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Next we listened to a man who works a family owned peach orchard and I learned more about fruit than in my previous 25 years of existence combined.

Remember my little backpacking adventure last year when I thought I was going to get crushed by large boulders, only to realize that my biggest worry was the blizzard that had moved in suddenly? Well, a bit of dammed up glacial water burst through the top of that valley this winter and a long way below where I camped the debris - sand and gigantic boulders - took out a highway and is now stacked fifty feet high in places around a nearby parking area. I really can't describe just how astonishing it was to see how much mass moved through that valley - a valley that I had slept in, on the ground, amidst these very same rocks and dirt. So, lesson: camping in the White River Valley is Bad Idea.

Also a bad idea, although not bad enough to warrant capitalization, is not putting on sunscreen until 3pm. I had some witty thought that I had delayed total glacier meltage by global warming by at least five minutes from all the heat I absorbed, but realized that, actually, absorbing shortwave energy causes it to be re-emitted as longwave energy, which is exactly what causes the greenhouse effect. That moment of nerd hurt almost as much as this burn.

So, after spending a day heating the earth I then came home just in time to finish half an assignment and then dash off to an indoor game. There's no AC in this building, and people play soccer there from 9am to 1am. By halftime my entire body was shaking; I've since nearly drank a gallon of water and it's only just subsided.

BUT! The most interesting thing that happened in all of this was before the soccer game. As I got off the light rail on my way home from campus, someone slapped my arm from behind. I turned, expecting to see a friend. Instead, it was a trim man in decent clothes and shades; he didn't look crazy or like he was asking for money.

"What's your name?"

"Sara," I blurted. I don't mind giving strangers my first name. It seems like the only women my age that aren't named Sara are the ones who have a sister named Sara, so it's not anything uniquely identifiable.

"You should think about the CIA, Sara."

"Heh," I said, which is my typical response when I have no idea what to say to someone.

And then he was off, weaving his way through the crowd. Was he joking? Was he serious? Either way, WHY would he ask me that? Why why WHY?????

Ahhh, summer (school)

School so far hasn't been that bad, despite the overload of credit hours. (Perhaps I shouldn't speak too soon, as I haven't been to all of my classes yet) I got a new ID card, a transit pass, verified my military benefits, and added a minor all in about twenty minutes. Any other time of the year, I'd be lucky to accomplish just one of those tasks in that amount of time. The buses aren't as crowded and Screaming Jesus Man of the South Park Blocks doesn't have a large enough audience to bother preaching.

I am slightly disappointed with my soccer class. I was really looking forward to playing outdoor soccer again, to shoot at a real goal, to have that wonderful feeling of booting a ball further than three lines and higher than twelve feet. I wanted corner kicks and throw-ins and offside traps. Instead, we're playing indoor soccer outside. That is, there are no high balls allowed (like, over three feet in the air), only three touches at a time, and the goals are little plastic cones five feet apart. Supposedly, this is for the inexperienced players' benefit. I don't know though. I learned to play soccer by...playing soccer. I fail to see how playing a different game is really going to help anyone. Sigh. At least it's sunny out and I get to experience running around on a real fake turf field (it's hot and these little rubber pellets get in your shoes and socks).

.....and a wave of fatigue just washed over me. Ehhhh, back to class again.

Empathy vs Hilarity

On the one hand, this makes me feel immensely better about my own soccer skills. hahaha the international star whiffs it! On the other hand, I'm plagued with this terrible thing called "empathy" and I want to go hide under the covers every time I see it.

We can all agree, however, that North American soccer did not gain any credibility yesterday. Fouls were egregious, coaches made head-scratching substitutions, and the refereeing was absurd. The final against Mexico is on Sunday, to be played in Chicago. Despite this location, how much ya wanna bet the ratio of Mexico fans to U.S. is somewhere between 2:1 and 3:1?

I want them to do well. I really do. They just make it so damn difficult!

oh the decisions

Jesus flippin' Christ, is it this difficult to get tickets to a Premiership match for all teams, or just ones called Manchester United? I never thought I'd see a system more confusing and daunting than army healthcare, but this has it beat. Pretty much from what I can tell, it's a membership lottery system for each game. Great. Some of us live halfway 'round the world and only have a few potential weekends, or in my case, really one. That one weekend just happens to be against Chelsea. Yeah, I bet no one's putting in an application for that crappy match. Maybe I'll just stop being snooty and watch Reading v Blackburn or something ultra exciting like that. The point is, this time while I'm in that part of the planet I'd like to see a damn EPL match.

Also, I officially found out that the one course I need to graduate isn't offered until next spring, essentially putting my life on hold another three months. The question is whether I go to school in the intervening terms or travel or work. Decisions, decisions.

Dragging out the Agony

In a perfect world, I'd have finished the paper, the other paper disguised as an "exercise", studied for the quiz, done well on the quiz, gave my presentation and would now be nearing Pullman, WA for the Middle Sis's birthday bash. In actuality none of the above happened. The presentation wasn't my fault due to technical difficulties, but creating the damn thing cut into my quiz study time and the thought of being able to finish the two papers a day early only to embark on a six hour drive was too stressful to really even think about. So instead, my presentation has been rescheduled for 9:00. A.M. Criminey, who thinks that early? So now this terrible semester has just been extended another day.

AND!! I just found out that the Timbers are playing our arch rivals Seattle in Round Two of the U.S. Open Cup on the first day of my summer evening class taught by the a-hole who gave me a shitty grade in my first ever college course! Will the injustice ever end?

[To answer that question: possibly on the 19th, when the Timbers lay waste to the future of Serie A: AC Milan's Primavera (U21) squad. Specifically, you'll have the horrid patchwork of green stuff they call a 'field' at PGE Park to thank for nipping those young divers' careers in the bud.]

This is how I feel today

Unfocused, out of shape, and with an overwhelming urge to nap. And I haven't even done anything!

Tag Pt 2

4) The slight itch in the crook of my elbow has turned into little red bumps that have spread to an alarmingly large portion of my body. I used to be severely allergic to poison oak and would have huge, oozing rashes most of the spring/summer, but as it's been years since I've had a reaction, and I'm really careful, I was really hoping that maybe I'd grown out of it, or had been exposed so much that it just didn't generate that much of a reaction anymore. Also, during a training exercise at Ft. Drum, we were punished with the infamous "Incoming 100 meters, that way!" drill, which involves sprinting around in a field and diving into the grass at prescribed intervals, and after twenty minutes or so I realized that it wasn't just grass and harmless bushes we were flopping around on, but huge swaths of poison ivy. When I didn't have any sign of a reaction, I thought maybe it was over. But perhaps poison ivy just isn't the same, cuz this stuff is looking familiar. Ick. Plus, my other allergies (the sneezing, wheezing kind) are bugging me. I may have to resort to taking medicine.

5) I HATE taking drugs. I have to be in some seriously high levels of discomfort before I'll down any chemicals. For one, I'm kinda scared as to what they're actually doing to me. For two, I can't drink booze with any of them, for fear of causing some sort of horrible reaction and having my insides melt. (I at least am aware of what alcohol does to my system. Long, latinized chemical names, not so much.)

6) Speaking of "seriously high", FIFA recently banned high altitude, international soccer matches. I wasn't aware that there even were soccer stadiums in the 11,000 - 14,000 foot range. Two experiences tell me this is a good idea: For about a two month period in Afghanistan I lived at 8,000 feet. It's not like I was in bad shape when I arrived, either; I was used to running 3-5 days a week for 3-6 miles at a time. I had been at this firebase about two weeks before I attempted to run, as was suggested by the people that had been there longer. I had sort of noticed the thin air while carrying a couple cases of water out to the truck when I had to pause to catch my breath. Even still, when I did get around to running, I only lasted a half a mile and I really thought I was going to die. My vision got dark around the edges and blurry in the middle, I had to lean up against a wall to keep from falling on my face, and no matter how many breaths I took or how deep they were, I could not get enough air. At the end of the two months, my buddy and I attempted a slightly faster pace, but still slower than what we'd do at home, and made it a whole mile, and then I REALLY thought I was going to die. Same symptoms as before, just worse. I even felt funny the rest of the day, like nutrients weren't traveling to my brain like they should.
The second experience was a high school soccer game in Sister, OR. Sisters is only 5,000 feet or so, but I still felt like I was running in slow motion. It didn't help that the ref decided that if we were to wear long sleeves under our jerseys that everyone's on the team needed to be the same color (normally, the undergarments just have to be either white or black, there's no requirement for uniformity throughout the team). Of course the kids from the poor logging town at sea level didn't have matching attire that the rich kids in the ski resort did, so we played in the snow flurries in shorts and t-shirts. The presence of a huge mountain just on the other side of a valley directly down from us combined with the lack of oxygen to make me feel like I was falling off the field.

7) When I was little, I would have dreams about falling off the Earth. These may have spawned from the revelation that people didn't live INSIDE the earth, but rather on TOP of it, something my little mind couldn't quite wrap itself around. In any case, the dreams started out with me in some very grassy, hilly location in the far north, near the top of the planet. The scenery looked suspiciously similar to that of Scotland and Ireland. I'd be running south down a huge hill, and as I picked up speed and the curvature of the earth kicked in, I'd run myself right off the edge of the planet and fall down - really, it seemed like flying, because the earth was getting further away from me - all along the ocean and other continents and then I'd wake up with a start like in most normal falling dreams. At least the scenery was pretty! Odd, especially considering at that age I'd never been to the places that resembled the ones in this dream.

8) EXTRA CREDIT! I hate bugs. The world would be a much better place if all arthropods and arachnids - with the exception of honey bees, daddy long-legs, and small hermit crabs - were eliminated. Hornets, wasps and spiders because they sting/bite and they're HORRIFIC looking (really, have you ever gotten a close look at one? *shudder*). Lobsters because of Stephen King's The Gunslinger and crabs because of the scene in Winged Migration when the battalion of crabs descend upon the wounded bird and drag it off while it's still alive. Oh, and ants. I won't ever forgive those awful creatures for the damage - physical and mental - they inflicted on me and my sensitive skin in Texas and Alabama. They're nasty, they bite, and scarily enough, they COMMUNICATE. Get rid of them, NOW!!!

Taggety Tag Tag, Part I

Gina tagged me earlier this week, so I supposed I'll get around to that now. The theme of this tagging is seven things about myself, I think.

1) "Just because you're better than me doesn't mean I'm lazy." -- Billy Bragg, "To Have and to Have Not"
Not entirely true for me. I'm not very good at much AND I'm lazy. I think I'm the laziest person I know. Maybe I just hang out with overachievers. In this respect I fit in pretty well in the army, which isn't as surprising as you might think: I only really do things in order to not get yelled at. Since every inaction in the army resulted in just that, I usually got things done. Here in Realityland, no one yells at me for procrastinating, half-assing, and generally just plain ol' not doing things.

2) Due to procrastination and last-minute technical difficulties yesterday, I missed the bus I needed to take in order to get to campus and turn in my (terribly written and half as long as required) paper by 4 o'clock. As a result, I bombed my way across town on my bike, smashing my previous record time by a third. I guess that means soccer and going to the gym really are doing some good. I even braved the downtown sections, changing lanes and passing buses during rush hour. Thoughts of the upcoming Timbers game and getting flattened by a car resulted in the chant, "you're goin home in a Portland ambulance," running through my head for the rest of the afternoon.

3) I really have pointed a loaded gun at someone and meant it. It was very weird. Most things in Afghanistan were weird, but I have to admit I kind of enjoyed it. (Afghanistan, not pointing guns at people.) This is not to say I won't throw the world's most gigantic hissy fit if I get recalled to go there or anywhere else.

Running out of ideas here, so I'll post more later.

For the Rose City 2-0! *clap clap*

This is really incredible. The Timbers are 3-0-1 at home! Reverse the win/loss columns and you'll have what I witnessed last year. I'm not used to all this winning! Never caught up with my friends, though, those flaky fans! Nevertheless, the game was fun. Here are some highlights:

1) The beer selection: When did THIS happen?? Obsidian, from Deschutes; Stella; Newcastle; and....ARROGANT BASTARD! ON TAP!!! Yes, it's $8.25 for a plastic cupful, but with the alcohol content of AB as high as it is, it's the most worthy of this price. Halfway into my second one and I was having trouble with the hand gestures that accompany the chant in the title of this post. This may be related though to my lack of beer consumption this past month.

2) The crowd: small, but feisty. Favorite chant of the evening: "If you've ever won a game, clap your hands! *clap clap*" Followed by "Can we playyyyyyyyyyy you every week?" The California team, ironically named the Victory, are new to the league and in four games have so far only managed a draw. Ha ha.

3) Timber Jim: "Let's all do a jig!" The coolest mascot ever. (note: the video isn't of TJ, just a cheer for him) Even let one of the visiting Sunderland fans use the chainsaw to slice off a hunk of log to celebrate a goal.

4) Justice: What a buncha dirty divers! The dirtiest of them all was finally red-carded near the end of the game and we happily chanted him off as security escorted him from the building. Nyuk nyuk nyuk.

5) Players: Our longtime defender Scot-with-one-T scored, as well as our AWESOME new guy, Bryan Jordan, scored the goals. I'm not used to all this goal scoring, either.

just a lil bit more

I have this really long paper that I've been stressing over the entire term, yet haven't actually started, that's due today. This post is really just one last gasp at procrastination. It's due at four, I'll be drinking whiskey by five, meet the guys at the Yammy at around six, and march down to the Timbers game sometime before kickoff at seven. There's another Timbers game on Sunday. Monday, Dad and I are going fishing.... somewhere. I haven't been privy to the exact time and location of this trip, so I can only hope it's still going to happen. My fishing pole has been looking lonely in the corner of my room since Christmas.

My paper is about cod. Pacific cod, to be exact. Mysteriously I get hungry whenever I do research on it. Heyy, how bout after I turn it in, I'll head to Kell's and have whiskey and a large hunk of battered cod and NOT see Wayne Rooney! Yeah! (still upset.)

Gina tagged me. I'll get to that.... sometime.

GAH!

I MISSED HIM!!! He was at KELLS!!!

he looked like a deer in headlights and was wicked shy.... they just stood near the bar drinking guinness, no one bothered him, on guy did go grab a soccer ball out of his car and had him sign it, otherwise, the remaining 95% of the customers had no idea who he was.

Ya know how often I go to Kell's? ALL THE TIME. And Wayne Rooney has never been there (except for on the tv). Man. I'm really upset.

Wayne Rooney in Portland????

OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!

If I didn't have so much damn homework to do I'd probably be out prowling around my old apartment, as it's quite near where I think this "unnamed shoe company" is. I do have a life, I promise. It just happens to revolve around beer, music and soccer, and not necessarily in that particular order.

I can always dream he'll show up to the indoor soccer center tonight. After all, who doesn't want to see the Meadow Muffins play? (Meadow Muffins is a FAR cooler name than Raging Rhinos!)

I....Have...TICKETS!!!!!

PDX-DUB, September. No firm plans other than the dates, but it's nice to have something to look forward to at the end of summer.

Back to reading/typing/reading/cursing/typing/reading.

Dass right. I'ma getcha, sheepies.

This job screens for criminal history, dignity

Can you imagine playing for an adult, nay, professional soccer team named the Raging Rhinos? Me neither. I'd have thought that was cool until about age nine, and then until eleven, I'd have thought it was funny in that it's-so-uncool-it's-cool sort of way, but that's the limit. Well, these Rochester guys put up with it. I suppose if I got paid an EPL salary, I could play on a team called the Pink Princesses with tutus for uniforms, and still be happy, but seeing as this is the USL, I suspect they're not making a whole lot of anything. Maybe they take consolation in that the opposing fans call them the Winos. I know that'd be my preference!

More things happened this weekend that I'd like to blog about, but right now I have to read a bunch of things. There are numbers involved. Bleh.

...and there went my links

I got on a fix-up-the-computer kick and decided to revamp everything. Thing is running faster, the blog shows up normally on Firefox now, but I didn't really pay attention to the 'you'll lose all your customizations' threat when I changed templates and now I don't really know what to do. Maybe somewhere I saved a copy of the source? Let's hope so.

Update: Fixed!

Wow

So that's what it feels like to drop a whole letter grade in under an hour.

Ugh, and I came to Kell's to drink beer, watch soccer and maybe hear the Pogues, but ya know what's on tv? Bowling. Seriously, why is this "sport" televised?

Heading to Seattle this weekend for a number of reasons - to give a friend a ride to National Guard duty, to visit an old army buddy - but mainly I'm going to see the Timbers play our rivals Seattle (or rather, 'Shittle' as the Timbers' army soldiers would insist you say it). My buddy Owen, who is giving me a place to say, has informed that, most dissappointingly, I'll have to share the place with a buncha muscley, single, rugby players. How ever will I manage. In any case, he called yesterday to discuss details and I informed him that we need to find out how seating works as I simply can't sit near Seattle fans. He was actually offended by this! Apparently, he's never been to a *real* soccer game. (I guess being a N. American, I haven't either, but this is close enough.) I predict that he'll enjoy himself in the Seattle supporters' section (supposin' they even have one), singing and jeering. Hopefully he'll be entertained enough to make a habit of coming to games.

The Demise of Kim Jong-Il

My friends keep chickens in their backyard, right in the middle of the city. This is funny enough in itself, but even better is that the chickens are all named after dictators. Recently, a new chicken became the first to receive the name of a "benevolent" dictator, Hugo Chavez. This has evidently sparked a debate amongst the household residents as to whether Chavez is in fact a benevolent dictator, if a dictator can really be benevolent, or whether he's even a dictator at all. In any case, they now get to eat his (technically, 'her') and Mussolini's babies for breakfast.

It is with this background that I bring you the latest news from the chicken coop: Kim Jong-Il has died. The best part? He was eaten by a dog.

Coincidentally, friends on the other side of town are reporting that their cat is evidently a communist, as surmised by his refusal to "MEE-ow" like a normal cat and instead says, "Mao."

Spring. It's finally here.

As you may have ascertained from this blog and any personal interactions you've had with me, I'm not a big fan of winter, whether it be the snow/hail/sleet/-40F frozen hell of Northern New York, or the dreary two-thirds of a year of gloom and drizzle in the Pacific Northwest. So it was with much satisfaction that I took the bike out of the shed yesterday morning and rode down to the pub. The crappy weather that was forecasted held off for my little jaunt, but as soon as I made the decision to not return the bike to the garden shed and instead lock it up out front and in the elements, the downpour began, soaking my seat and helmet.

I already blogged about the Timbers season starting, so I won't go into that again, but that is just yet another symptom of the onset of spring. Flowers, sunshine, and soccer were the things that I've been waiting for since approximately September when we entered the wet season and now they're here! Hooray!

However, there are consequences to all this jubilance, as it's really hard to read 10000000000000000 pages on quantifying faunal remains when there are bikes to ride, soccer balls to kick, and beers to drink. Academically, last week was a pretty pitiful showing on my part, and I've now got a lot of catching up to do. Unfortunately for me, my decision to try and graduate next March instead of June requires me to go to summer school this year, which means that while all the rest of the students are daydreaming about their upcoming vacation in less than two months, my next chunk of freedom isn't until roughly September.

But I can hardly complain. Afterall, it's SPRING!!!

Plus, I got a screenshot of the standings. Considering how poorly we did last year, it's nice to look at, even if it doesn't last. Notice where Seattle is? heheheheheh.

Portland Timbers 3-1 Puerto Rico Islanders

Despite this buffoonery, we still pulled it off. (There were TWO blown PKs, btw, not just this one.)

And check this out!
We're gonna win the LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAGUE, we're gonna win the league! Ok, I'm hoarse.

We racked up a whoppin' attendance record of 7,805. Go ahead and snicker Euros, this is the US and that's as good as it gets in a league game. We beat opening night of the local baseball (snore!) team by a few hundred. That oughta serve the naysayers right. The friendlies against Necaxa and AC Milan U21's oughta pull a lot in a lot more.

Sheesh, a little bit of alcohol and I turn into my father. He gets kind of worked up about sports. My mom does too, but Dad is more brutal about it. He yells things that are entirely in character for a guy that grew up playing hockey in Pittsburgh with the steelworkers' kids, but seem a little out of place in other contexts. It turns out that screaming, "SMASH HIS FUCKING FACE IN!!!" at a professional soccer game is acceptable and even humorous, but the same sentiment shouted at a coed rec indoor game is entirely inappropriate. Who knew! And I wonder why I got called for a foul everytime I looked at the ball and/or an opposing player. (Ahem, referree? Shoulder and hip checks are still legal in soccer. This isn't Italy, ya know.)

In other sporting news.... C'MON NEWCASTLE!!! I normally cheer for them anyway, but since they're playing against Chelsea, I'll cheer for 'em double. I now have an excuse to root for Man Utd - five of their defenders are injured and their goalkeeper is still recovering from a broken nose. If they can win games with their reserve midfielders filling in as fullbacks, they deserve to win the league. See, they're *kind of* underdogs in that respect.

Here's an official ad

Be there. Better yet, be at the Yamhill Pub at 4:30-5ish and have some drinks.

The Killer

She spends her days in the window sill, tracking the movements of birds. She hates the dog. Her favorite activity (besides turning the toilet paper roll into a shredded pile of fluff on the floor) is to have someone bounce the ball off the wall so she can do flips and other acrobatics in order to catch it. She initiates this game by bringing the ball to somewhere nearby and then staring at me, then the ball, then back at me and meowing loudly. She's very demanding. Her name is Bridget, and I have no idea why.

The Shy One

She slinks around with a wide-eyed look like, "Oh! Am I being too loud? Please don't mind me." When I say hello to her, she'll pause with that same wide-eyed look, until she thinks I'm done talking to her, then she scoots away again. She lives to eat, and not much else. In fact, while maintaining her facade of shyness, she has been known to hiss The Killer out of her food bowl and steal all of her treats, too. The fact that Bridget puts up with this is proof that The Shy One is really one dangerous, silent kitty. Her name is Tibby.

AAHA! AAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!

ManUtd 7 Roma 1.

Man Utd - Roma | All The Goals
Uploaded by GOAAAAL

I didn't get to watch it, so I had to settle for highlights. I'm disappointed to report that even after much scouring of the intertubes, I can't find any footage of Totti crying. Please tell me he cried. That's all I want to hear.

Because it's the Cool Thing to Do

That's my doggy, Harper, all excited by my surprise St. Patrick's Day visit. He was *squealing* he was so happy. It's nice to know that something out there appreciates my presence so much.

School's Back On

So it's time for me to procrastinate again by blogging!

[editor (me!) note: I watched a soccer match earlier today and now the narrator in my head is one of those damn English announcers. Odd sounding phrases shall be blamed on that. Oh, and this may be a long post, and not very interesting to boot.]

Spring break brought mixed results. Instead of being energized by the end of yet another exhausting finals week, I was bored out of my mind. I've had a mental list of things to do around the room/house during a break since last summer. These are things like fixing my mandolin case so it doesn't jiggle the instrument around inside, putting a crate of some sort on the back of my bike, getting some posters/frames up on the wall, cleaning, getting straps for my mandolin and camera, possibly getting a couch, etc etc. Things! Instead I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling until I decided to call home and see if they'd take me. They sure did. I left on Friday night and didn't return until the next Sunday. Ten days of doing little to nothing.

We tried at one point to go to the coast. We'd booked a room in Florence, known for its sand dunes. This is something that we're not known for, this splurging on a hotel for the coast. All were loaded into the ol' station wagon and off we went down the scenic Hwy 34 route. That morning I'd had some strange insomnia and had been up since about 6 am, inexplicably. I'd hoped the car ride would give me a chance to nap. However, 34 is extremely windy in this portion, so sleep was out of the question. Also, I couldn't believe the number of massacred hillsides there were! One after another, massive clear cuts topped the hills; huge swathes of forest were now huge swathes of mud and rubble, just waiting to slide down into the streams and rivers below. So by the time we'd gotten to Waldport, the first stop on the coast before we were to head south to Florence, I was already pretty grumpy.

At the first street light, the lower speeds suddenly allowed us to hear a horrible noise coming from the engine. We pulled over immediately and Dad and I stared under the hood, clueless as to what was causing this grinding sound. Dad's knowledge of cars is only slightly more than mine, and what I know about cars could be scribbled onto the back of a gum wrapper with plenty of room left in the margins for doodling. Since we couldn't afford a mechanic out of town, we decided to drive back. Despite my warnings and protests that we should at least eat our last meal before the car broke down in Deliverance, OR, we drove on anyway. Sure enough, the car quit in Eddyville. Doesn't Eddyville sound like a great place? It sure is. A very nice woman at the post office (the one nonresidential building in 'town') gave us a jump and the car managed another three miles. Totally out of cellphone range and out of sight from anything resembling human settlement (other than the clearcuts, of course) we were stuck. Dad thumbed a ride ten miles down the road until he got cell reception and called a tow truck. An hour or so later that tow truck finally arrived, just as the torrential downpour began. And so went our only adventure of the week.

The rest of the week was just me sitting around, watching rerun soccer games on television, playing video games, plucking at my mandolin and attempting to show my sis some notes on the guitar, and taking the dog for many walks.

***
My new schedule kicks some serious ass. No class on Mondays and Wednesdays until 2pm! No class at all on Fridays!

Unfortunately, all of my classes are extremely into attendance. Not that I'm a big class skipper, but I like the relaxed atmosphere of college and I kind of resent the militarism of some of this term's professors. One class requires attendance because, well, it's friggin' hard, but the others seem to require it because they think it's fun. All kinds of no-brainer assignments that just require your presence and nothing more. One of them has an overcrowded classroom, too! That's the kind of situation where idiots ought to be encouraged to stay home, if anything to free up space for the rest of us. I hope it gets moved to a proper lecture hall, rather than into the highschool-like room it's already in. People were standing yesterday!

***
Today, given my relaxed schedule, I skipped the gym and went to a pub to watch the ManUtd v Roma match. I've taken to liking United partly because they're fun to watch, but mainly because I've been playing too many soccer video games and since I suck, I need a really really good team like them to make up for my lack of ability. But stronger than my love of United is my hatred of all things Italian football. I hate hate hate their national team. While gorgeous (even I have to give them credit there), they were the biggest cheaters and whiners on the planet last summer. If ever one failed to make a successful play on the ball, he'd just flop to the ground, arms pinwheeling around, and then shriek in agony hoping to get a call from the ref. More often than not, he would get that call and magically said injured player would hop right up without even a limp. They cried their way to the final, and nothing made me happier than the look on that dude's face when Zidane headbutted him. *I* would like to have headbutted him. [on review, that sounds a little dirty.] A few of their national team players are on Rome, so therefore I had to cheer against them.

Oddly, the bar was nearly packed (in the middle of the day, no less!), and with plenty of vocal Irishmen. I couldn't tell if they were huge Manchester fans or really just hated the Italian team, but in any case, as Rome won, the bar was mostly filled with shouts of, "fucksake!! ahhh FUCK!!! and FUCKING...FUCK!" While my team didn't win, that part at least made me giggle a little.

***
I have homework and shitton of reading to do, so I best get to it. Afterall, Thursday is my early day with a map lab at 10:00 - pity me, please!

No Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

In fact, I can barely conjure up 150 words for this one. A long night it shall be.

Update:Somehow I am just tickled that I've managed to type two whole pages on this nonsense. Nevermind that it's four am and I'm not yet done. Still, I'm pleased.

The Eaten Post. This Time with Attitude!

I got hurt in Saturday night's soccer game against the hilariously named PBR FC. It wasn't a life-threatening or debilitating injury, just an annoying hip flexor pull/strain. It did cause me to have to sit out the rest of the game, as I couldn't lift my leg - kind of imporant in a sport played with the feet.

Of course by the next afternoon my friends had found out about it and when I met them at the hockey game I was greeted with taunts of, "Hey, how's yer hip, ya old lady?" and discussions of hip replacement technology and questions as to whether or not I was going to be able to handle the upcoming Timbers season, what with all the standing and shouting obscenities at the other teams. Considering the Timbers don't start for another month or so, this kind of annoyed me. If I'm not playing by NEXT WEEK I'm going to be furious.

Ya see, I don't get hurt. Five years of scrambling up and down asphalt and mudslick hills with too much weight on my back and I couldn't get hurt if I tried. I couldn't tell you how many times I woke up in the morning, faced with another day of agonizingly stupid Army tasks, and thought, "God, can't I just get hit by a bus? At least severely twist an ankle?" Or how many times I'd be running behind someone in formation who suddenly fell over with a "Gah!" and a snapped tendon. Not once did I go to sickcall for illness, injury or otherwise. Sure, I got terrible blisters and sometimes my knees would hurt so bad in the mornings that I could've cried, but nothing that prevented me from having to participate in the daily activities. And now that I'm doing something I actually enjoy I have to sit out. Garrr.

Oh, and I hate art history. Otherwise, life is ok. Sorry for the lack of posts, but I didn't want to bore anyone to death with the mundane... mundaneness... that has been my life as of late.

This Tech-ma-nogical Hooey is Making my Hip Ache!

Two shitty things just happened in the last three minutes: 1) The Great Internets have just informed me that The Police are not coming to Portland as I was previously led to believe. Boooooo! 2) Evidently, Internet Explorer was so devastated at this bit of news that it froze and crashed all the open windows, thereby erasing the blog I had nearly finished. That's what I get for multi-tasking, I suppose.

But oh! It must nearly be spring, as one of the Screaming Jesus Men is perched atop a park bench and shouting at the fleeing passerby! Hooray! (And "TRUST JESUS"!)

Recovered blog coming sometime in the next 24 hours.....

Attention Housemate:

You've already split enough wood to last the next three winters. Quit trying to make me feel bad by using your 60-year-old, arthritic hands to chop logs directly outside my bedroom window. YOU are the one that brought the TREE home; when I said I'd help, it was worded by you as "help rearranging the wood pile." It was only later that you mentioned that "rearrange the woodpile" actually meant "split these huge fucking logs with an ancient axe."

Also, while on the subject of passive-aggressive behavior, I noticed that the recyclables are piling up. This is probably related to the notice you left on the kitchen table detailing why last week's load, which you packed, was rejected. Among the list of offenses was the inclusion of plastic bags. You know perfectly well what can or can't go into the recycle bin; you just want me to do it, so you're intentionally screwing up. I'm related to you, remember. These antics are notorious on your side of the family. All you need to truly live up to the name is to start sucking down large quantities of Scotch while belittling my intelligence and looks.

Note: this may not be clinical passive-aggressive behavior, but it is still annoying the shit out of me and can't possibly be healthy for you.

"We SMOKE while we shoot the bird!"

Here they are, the Mooninites, in all their glorious mooniness.

Mooninites Shut Down Boston

Ya can't make this stuff up. Boston was damn near on lockdown today, wreaking havoc with commuters, because Nation of Fear freaked out over an ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN for a CARTOON. And then, and THEN, the TV news - that spent the whole day freaking everyone out about the "bombs" planted strategically around the city - had to blur out part of the CARTOON CHARACTER because it was giving the finger. Nevermind that, because it's a CARTOON CHARACTER, it only has one digit on its "hands" so it's not technically the "middle finger" rather just "The Finger."

Did I mention it was a CARTOON CHARACTER? And the title of this post is a bit misleading, as it was really only one half of the Mooninites - Ignignokt - that managed to shut down a major American city. Err and Ignignokt are two of my favorite cartoon characters ever created, part of the show "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" which is just as ridiculous and silly as it sounds. Anyone remember the Foreigner Belt? Or how bout the laser beam of doom? hahahahahahahaaa! What a great show. But seriously, what a sad and pathetic bunch of people we've become to let ourselves be terrorized by blinking lights displaying a CARTOON CHARACTER.

"OMG! Have you heard this band called 'The Beatles'???"

I'm a little leery of recommending music to people. Being in the army was sort of like hanging out in a time warp for five years. When I mention a band I like, those in the know sniff and don't even say, "That's so last year!" They sniff and exclaim, "That's so... 2003? God, I don't even know. I haven't listened to them in years!" That's a bit much for a 24-year-old's ego to take (or anyone under 35's ego for that matter) so I usually keep mum on these sort of things.

Having said all of that, I just discovered (don't ask me how this chain of events unfolded) Neko Case. If you haven't heard her, run to your nearest free music sampler place and listen to the first track on Blacklisted called "Things that Scare Me." It sounds kinda like what would happen if Mazzy Star played country music. "Well duh, Sara, it's altcountry. Isn't that exactly what it's supposed to sound like?" And the answer is that most altcountry I've heard is really just plain ol' country music as sung by people that aren't ignominious mouthbreathers (ie: Toby Keith). This is really something different, and she has an incredible voice.

More Monkeys!

Updated and Edited
School was cancelled in advance today, so I got to sleep in. Here's a more easily viewable video of "bowling for SUVs."



Is it so wrong that I laughed UPROARIOUSLY at this video? I mean, that first car hit everything in sight, and then slid down the block to hit more things! Just because you drive an SUV, or a 4x4 of any sort, does NOT mean that you know how to drive in the snow.

As you can see, it was a lovely morning in PDX. The temperature is now 29! Can't wait for tomorrow!!

Oh and by the way, the giant logs in the picture below are the ones I'm supposed to take an axe to. Mmmhmm. Add another twenty degrees to the temp and I'll think about it.

More Fun than a Barrel Full of Monkeys

That's Portland in a snowstorm. It snows but twice a year - once in Nov/Dec and once in Jan/Feb - and real snowstorms - the serious, sticking kind - are a once-every-three-years special. It's understandable then that when such an event does occur, especially if coinciding with the morning commute, that the whole thing is quite an ordeal. Portlanders, bless their rain-soaked hearts, cannot drive in the snow. To be fair, most cities with considerable snowfall have these things called "plows" that take care of the roads before anyone is even awake.We don't. The vast majority of the ones in Oregon have been allocated to the eastern side of the state and to the mountain passes, because that's normally the only place it ever snows significantly.

I had an eight a.m. class, and so I was out the door by seven. Shortly before I left the PSU website had no alerts saying it was closed. OregonLive had a few other school cancellations, and since PSU has a reputation of NEVER closing, I figured class was on. Fast forward an hour and forty-five minutes and I'm still on the bus, about a mile from campus. We'd been sitting at this same intersection for twenty minutes. I got out and walked. By the time I got to campus there were signs taped to the doors announcing the delayed opening of campus at ten. So I found a study nook and caught up on some reading. At twenty to, I left for my ten o'clock archaeology class. I no sooner stepped out onto the eerily quiet downtown street when my phone rang. The loud jangling from my pocket startled me, and had there been any passerby, or even a bird for that matter, they would have been startled too. It was mom.

"Where are you?" she asked.
I sighed. I knew what was coming. "Downtown. Why?"
"PSU is closed!" she announced cheerfully.
"Those bastards!" One step ahead of them all morning. This wasn't fair.

After seeing one stuck bus after another and cars spinning their tires and bicyclists (seriously guys, worst idea EVER!) skidding sideways, I realized that the fastest way home was a four-mile walk. Slipping and sliding I kept pace by muttering "the Cup and Saucer Cafe had soooo better be open," every so often. It was. As usual, there was a line, but once I got a table and my omelette, that food was gone practically before the waitress had made it back to the kitchen. I got home roughly ten minutes before I would have on an ordinary day with classes.

Highlights were the dumb bicyclists eating snow, and the "adventure bus" game, where passengers had to exit the bus while it drifted sideways into traffic. See? Barrel of monkeys...