I got home from my twice-yearly gluttony with Il and went to bed right away. I was pretty tired. But I didn’t seem to sleep all that well and when I finally got up I wondered if I was just getting too old for the kind of excesses I’ve been used to. I cut down on the food and on the drinking, but maybe splitting a bottle of wine three ways and then having a dessert cocktail is too much now. All I had planned was to go to the gym and then crawl around in the attic today, but I didn’t get to any of that. I went back to bed and slept in until 1:20PM.<\/p>\n
When I finally got up I figured out that I wasn’t hung over, I was just coming down with something. The difference was sort of like the difference of having a cold vs having the ‘flu. What felt bad wasn’t the same. Plus, I slept well most of the time and had weird dreams. The construction noises from next door were incorporated into a dream about an awning project over our driveway that my dad was overseeing. Later I was watching people innertubing down a ski slope and my co-worker convinced me to glissade down because there was a free soda machine at the bottom. The soda machine was Japanese, with Japanese Fanta in it. All very bizarre and amusing.<\/p>\n
I spent most of the day just sitting around watching TV from the past week and finally saw Portlandia<\/em>, the show all the California transplants think is so funny. It’s OK, but I didn’t find it that interesting. Things that annoy me about Portland were on the show annoying me. Hipsters, check. Hippies, check. And I hate when people complain about Portland drivers. The only time I drive slowly is when I don’t care, or when I’m purposely trying to fuck with some douchebag who is speeding on a city street. On the freeways I agree with the speeding. On the surface streets I think people need to go the speed limit. If you think the driving is bad then MOVE THE FUCK BACK TO CALIFORNIA where you can either drive 90 or drive 5 because of the awful fucking traffic jams.<\/p>\n I suppose I’m just too much a native Portlander. I remember meeting a friend’s wife a few years ago (ex-wife now) who as well as being loud and large, she wanted to me to know she was a belly dancer. “I AM A BELLY DANCER! DO YOU KNOW ANY BELLY DANCERS? I BET YOU DON’T KNOW ANY OTHER BELLY DANCERS!” Uh, I grew up in Portland. I know several. The friend went on to date several exotic dancers (strippers to you and me) because there are a lot of them here. No shortage of meth or narcissism and so you should be able to follow the cause and effect.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I got home from my twice-yearly gluttony with Il and went to bed right away. I was pretty tired. But I didn’t seem to sleep all that well and when I finally got up I wondered if I was just getting too old for the kind of excesses I’ve been used to. I cut down on the food and on the drinking, but maybe splitting a bottle of wine three ways and then having a dessert cocktail is too much now. All I had planned was to go to the gym and then crawl around in the attic today, but I didn’t get to any of that. I went back … Continue reading Better than hallucination.<\/span>