coma time.

dear lord. where the fuck have i been?

the short answer is that i’ve been down the nutcracker burlesque hole. the slightly less short answer is that my new job is hard and makes me tired. excitingly enough, it also makes me happy, but very very tired. Unfortunately, this combination of dancing 3 days a week +  job that makes my brain sweat = me asleep on my couch in front of a half finished blog post about something that happened to me 3 weeks ago EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.

i’m actually kind of surprised that my computer hasn’t slid off my unconscious lap and shattered into 1,000 pieces… YET.

anyway, i haven’t given up the ship. i just need to figure out how to get myself back from the dead and into full blogging mode. probably/definitely, after nutcracker.  in the meantime, please enjoy this post i wrote for goodwill about home made xmas presents that don’t suck too much.  i will do my best to pop on and say hello as often as i can.

looking a little pastie.

a couple of months ago, i took my top off in a bar full of strangers and lived to tell the tale. i promised to give you all the full rundown sometime in the indeterminate future… well, that future is now- and this piece is 2 STRUTs for the price of one (one as a STRUTter and one as a not so casual observer). it’s posted on over at the observer, but their direct link is a little screwy right now, so you can find the piece in its entirety below. and in case you’re local and didn’t get a chance to see/feel/taste/participate in the carnage that was my  STRUT performance, i’ll be shakin it one final time tomorrow (october 14th) at geno’s. come support/join/ogle me, or at least come point and laugh.

Confessions of a late night STRUTter- A lesson in bringing it.

As a woman on a firm trajectory toward her mid-thirties who packed on an extra 30 lbs. 2 years ago and is still using “I got divorced” as an excuse for her somewhat doughy physique, one might not guess that I’d be jumping at the chance to get mostly naked in a room full of strangers. Two months ago, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that either. But then, burlesque happened.

weekend pickthrough- red hot and boozy edition.

so, i finally got my “i’m on a boat” badge on foursquare this weekend, and i definitely EARNED that shit. this past friday, red hot and ladylike was having a saucy benefit booze cruise, that involved me throwing on some hot pants and shakin it on a boat to top 40 til the wee hours (ok, like 10:30). sure, i got hit on by marginally creepy dudes old enough to be my dad. and sure, there was one drunk couple that i was pretty positive was actually doing the horizontal monster mash on the dance floor. but i forgot how much fun it is to get shitty on champagne and go dance with the lady friends. and dancing on a boat- TOTALLY AMAZING. the casablanca appears to have regular cruises with live music or djs all summer long (at very reasonable rates). and lemmie just tell you, there is nothing else like pulling into portland harbor while you’re crazy dancin’ in your underpants to “got your money”. ODB would be proud. (word)

the subtle intricacies of prison hooch (you just need to round up a little grape juice, a dirty sock, some moldy bread, and a toilet).

the portland press herald and i are having an argument. does this guinea pig look more stressed out, or more concerned?

25 free songs from urban outfitters (most of which don’t suck)! finally, some free downloads that aren’t christian audiobooks (now that’s a miracle).

there’s no crying in the break room. i need to hire my own joan holloway to make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.

the adorable and clever @aubinthomas has started a new blog to help preserve the memory of fine graffiti before some jackoff with a bucket of beige paint decides he wants to clean up the town.

$555,000 in student loan debt? sallie mae needs to back the fuck off.

for all you meat-a-vores out there, that fat guy from portland food coma takes you on a BBQ tour of maine. now somebody needs to generate me some passable faux pulled pork, or i am gonna LOSE IT.

what the f? it’s 2010.

what was supposed to be a champagne soaked evening on my couch, somehow turned into snowy half-drunken romp around portland. sadly, the boyfriend had a tummy ache, and rather than watch terrible friday night tv and then hit the sack at 10 (as was the boyfriend’s plan)- a friend of mine had invited me to to join her in a little something called a “hash“. fortunately for me, i caught up with them just at the tail end of things- and didn’t have to do any running. i just got to partake in the drinking and the naming ceremony of a runner who had just completed her 5th hash- a raucous and embarrassing ritual that involved asking the one to be named a lot of really pointed personal questions, and then yelling out possible names based on what they have disclosed.  clitberry cuntcake i congratulate you! (although frankly, cabin beaver was still my favorite). i will most definitely be attempting to join their next event (that is, if they’ll have me).

next on to bubbas to meet some friends for dancing and some more whiskey. i used to go there a lot in my younger days, but the crowd seems to have changed a bit. lots and lots of creepy old people trying to recapture their youth on the dance floor in the most obscene way possible. hell hath no fury like a couple of drunk 40somethings bumping and grinding to bon jovi. apparently desperation smells like axe body spray and polyester halter tops. but really, save for the smarmy guy who danced through our circle just to cut a big fart, and the fat guy who kept sticking his dirty dancing ass where it didn’t belong, it was a really good time. we rang in the new year rocking out to journey (as well we should have). i forget sometimes how much i love dancing. oh, and did i mention that i found $20 on the ground in front of the bar? drunk people are the best.

anyway, happy new year to all! may 2010 kick more ass than ever!