Dear Portland,

30 Oct

You are an afternoon spent at a teashop sipping Love/Rose kombucha from tap and sampling chai, while listening to Moby and Bjork, inhaling the scent of granola, co-op store, and sandlewood, while wondering how many wide glasses have real vision lenses, and counting the pairs of tevas that walk by, and noticing that there is enough flannel and organic cotton tees in the city to clothe an army for centuries to come.  

You are homogenous in your mustached, Kurt Vonnegaut-reading, skullcandy, vintage record-store fostering, cowboy-boot hoarding, greasy hair, homeless teens, and holes in your thrift store ‘new’ threads population.  You are charming and alarming.  

You are a vortex for kindred spirits of the kombucha-worshipping, teva-obsessed, peace-sign slanging, is-my-chicken-really-organic??? people of the world.  

I am in great need of a uniform to  disappear into this place, but as it is, I am sipping on an organic, free trade coffee just one crosswalk away from a Buffalo Exchange.  

Assimilation, here I come.

No more pink wigs in the workplace

30 Oct

Dear Seattle Institution in Queen Anne,

Meet your new Glitter Fairy.

I joined the army of straight-postured, Bordeaux/caviar- speaking, freshly pressed power suits of the restaurant world.  My pink wig will be retired from my work drawer to my after-work drawer in my dresser.  I will wear all black, half in mourning, and half by requirement.  My dansko slut shoes with the studs and cut-outs are under the radar so I will rock those as long as possible.  I will wear glittery Auntie Mame jewelry under my smart jacket, and pink tattoos on my sleeve.  I will hide Lisa Frank stickers and naked lady art on the inside of my tiny wine book.  I will attack my water bottle with princess decals.  Soon, I will be able to write about about closeted bedazzling.

During my third round of interviews, the service director pressed me with a series of questions with a stone-hard face to make sure I had personality.  Thank goodness!  They haven’t seen through me! I almost laughed out loud, though.  People have accused me of farting powdered sugar, being too peppy,  and making crazy faces every other second, but never has a lack of personality been a question.  Sir, how cute it is that your personality radar is color blind!!!  However, I had successfully toned down my silliness, and appeared to be a professional, but now that they have hired me, they soon will find out that I am made of pink, and have an insatiable appetite for all things that glitter.  I read somewhere that kimonos were the mandatory uniform.  I would die to be a geisha waitress.  Maybe I can bring about the ressurection of the kimonos?  Aha!  I feel a new calling twinkling in my bones.

There is no pink.  But family meal is made of magic.  There are no candelabras, but I will pretend that the glittering lights around the 360 degree view of Lake Union are the fairies of Neverland.  There is a lot of gray and a sea of black and starched white shirts, but every time I say ‘enjoy your meal’ I will really mean, ‘I believe in mermaids and unicorns.’ A girl has go to have multiple languages under her belt, and master the ability to spin gray into magic dust.

Bon appetit, and enjoy your meal.

Billie Idol in Peru

20 Oct

Brittney and I first spotted Billie in the customs line at Lima airport.  Having known me for almost two decades, and fully aware that my biggest aspiration is to own a pink cadillac convertible when I hit the social security years (not that our generation will ever see a dime of that), Brittney took one look at Billie and knew that I had found my idol.  “That’s you in 30 years, Sam,”  She said.  “I hope I’m that cool,” I thought.  Thank Heavens Billie and her husband Alan were in our two-week Gate one Wonders of Peru tour group. 

When we finally found internet at a cafe in Lima, I wrote to my boyfriend about Peru and the obvious highlight of the trip so far:

There is a lady with purple cotton candy hair named Billie and she is my idol. She is a former elementary school teacher, met her husband while Latin dancing, lives in Texas, has a vacation home in Central America, has a pink iPad case, sparkly purple nails, and hot pink accessories. She is calm, kind, and perfect and that’s what I am going to be like when my hair goes white, minus Texas.

The rest of the trip was fantastic.  Another highlight was spending time with my childhood best friend, Brittney, and making fun of the fact that although were were the youngest in age (by far) of anyone in our group, we were the only ones acting like senior citizens.

We thought it would be funny/appropriate to tell the folks on our tour that we met in a gang or in juvie, but it turns out that we are the oldest people in our group. We got in bed at 630 last night and ate cheese sandwhiches for dinner. We skipped the impromptu activities of the day in favor of a ‘rest’. We had trouble finishing one alcoholic beverage before retiring to our room at 9:00 after a 2 hour nap. We are so lame and we think it’s hilarious. Plus, I did her hair in braids so she is an 80year old trapped in a 13 year old’s body and I have mad giggles about that. I am wondering how we made it past 13 with the abandoned house exploring, treehouse cigarette fires, gang member associations, witchcraft, short shorts and fake knives to the gas station for candy, etc. I am in charge, which really blows for us because my brain doesn’t work that way and I’m really shy which I forgot about but I think Brittney is going to bitchney/nag all of the shyness out of me by the end of the trip so that’s good probably.  I have taken to pronouncing every  Spanish word on signs/menus/billboards with gusto y mucho vigor with dramatic hands just to irritate her as much as possible, which is something I love and treasure/ need more of in my life.  Brittney is obsessed with jeggings and is missing her uggs with passion so that’s pretty hilarious to me. She misses her dog more than her fiancé, which is a no brainer because Nahla is the best thing ever. I love her more than cotton candy and caramel apples combined.

We almost died on a LAN flight from Lima to Cuzco, but thankfully Billie’s husband Alan had already been in a plane crash, and we all know that NO-ONE experiences two plane crashes in one lifetime.

Brittney and I couldn’t sit together on that flight, which could have been fatal: she is terrified of flying and depended on me to distract her with Thai hand massage and People Magazine Trivia.  Thankfully, she got to sit next to Billie and Alan, who assured her of the positive outcome of our LAN flight.  Brittney now hopes to sit next to Alan on every future flight of her life.

Macchu Picchu was awesome.  My favorite things were the llamas, the alpacas, watching Brittney’s terrified expression as I pretended to fall off a cliff, the Japanese tourists’ outfits, and Billie’s cotton candy hair among the ruins.  The scenery was pretty cool, too.

 

Lake Titicaca was fun.  I loved riding on a boat made out of reeds, visiting islands made of reeds, and getting my passport stamped with the Lake Titicaca logo.  I loved the sassy little girl named Rosalinda, who wore a fluffy pink skirt.  I loved dancing with the elemantary school kids in the south.  I loved all the ancient Inca ruins whose names I have already forgotten.  I loved the fear of getting stoned to death by menacing pre-teen boys on the windy passage down to the beach in Lima. I loved the coffee.  All in all, Peru was amazing.  But meeting Billie with my best friend was amazing-er.  Purple-streaked-haired broads are on shortage in this world- you don’t wanna miss out. Get ’em while they’re hot.

Better than perez

15 Sep

Facebookstalking.  Courtesy of Shimmer Tits and her Funny BunnyImageebo

86 ClusterF*&%

15 Sep

Image

This is the sign we should have above our server station at work.  There’s a thousand people and everybody’s aiming for the bus tub.  It takes five hours to find the right set-up for a decaf coffee, and by the time you’ve found a way to exit, there’s three more major knots in your back and/or a broken bone. 

There’s renovations going on all over our building- murals being painted, air conditioning being installed, an expanded kitchen, elevators shafts to nowhere.  So when the server station gets a revamp, I’ll be preparedwith a design proposal.

It’ll be huge, approximately the size of Beyonce’s master bathroom.  The main entrance will have the feel of a party bus: dance floor, stripper pole, Moet bottles everywhere,and rainbow cupcakes being served left and right.  It’ll also be equipped with go-go dancers, and there is absolutely no compromise on that.  The second, and least important, area will have everything we need to be waiters, when we are ready to face our tables again.  Martha Stewart will come up with an efficient and functional design…and then we’ll glitter bomb it because she’s way too beige for us.  We’ll even have a butler to prepare our coffee and tea set-ups (also no compromise).  The next phase will be all about relaxation.  We’ll have a hot-tub complete with talking unicorns and red wine, and maybe some puppies on the lawn for good measure. 

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This area will also feature a massage table overlooking the bay.  We’ll have a masseur who looks just like Johnny Depp pre-Pirates.  He’ll be shirtless, of course.

Our final area will be Candyland.  Chocolate, cupcakes, chocolate milk, candy neclaces, gummy peaches, cola bottles, and hot tamales.  It will be replenished hourly.

When we are ready to leave our server station, we will have a perfect escape method.  No more shrill screams of, “CORNER!  Coming DOWN!!!! HOT FOOD COMING OUT!!!”  Nope.  I’ve found the perfect way to eliminate this problem. The girls will come down a princess castle slide Image and the boys will get a firefighter pole.  If you’re worried about functionality, our butler will follow us with a tray, or better yet, we’ll all have personal owls/garden fairies to fly things around  for us.  When we’re out and about on the floor, we can use these Image little cuties to get us from room to room.  Or we can just hire Mr. Lee to take us around on his little red vespa.  Or maybe Ms. Pearl knows a few extra unicorns for hire.

This is why I can’t work in an office

29 Jul

I don’t have an office-ready wardrobe…but I’m sure when the suits and techies come in for a business lunch, they certainly appreciate a little color in their day from the bearer of their lattes and chardonnay.  Or they think I’m lame.  Or they’re jealous because they can’t pull off pink wigs and see-through shirts in their profession.

The SuZu Chronicles: The Summer we bought Suzy

28 Jul

It was a cold, cloudy summer, but we’d just touched down from an American blizzard via torrential downpours in Tahiti so the weather could not have been more…WORSHIPPED.  Auckland looked so much like Seattle with its sail-boats and harbour, moody skies, dots of islands around the coastline, Space Needle replica, and strings of coffee shops serving REAL COFFEE perFECtion, that we felt at home immediately.  Our first job was on Waiheke Island, and after the ferry ride, we were sure that our flat whites had been drugged because we were in Neverland.  Or Ireland.  Or Hawaii.  Or Tuscany.  Mermaid coves, rich rolling sheep-lined hills, tropical flowers and rugged cliffs, and vineyards and olive trees on every block.  We settled on Neverland because that is perfection, and island perfection is exactly where we were.  We sauv-ed our way through the wineries, fell in love with vast and immaculate Oneroa Beach, staged proposals on every other bench (which came out to 567)  overlooking another spectacular view, wore our soles down exploring the walkways, discovered the simple bliss of barefoot shopping at Countdown, and ate a million digestive cookeis, and 20 bags of Tangy Bliss.  We snuck behind (non-electrical) fences and rolled down the hills like wild cihldren, and we still have the nicks to prove it.  We bought our car in the parking lot of the Countdown supermarket, and that night we drove to the grassy, enchanted bluffs overlooking Auckland/Oz and had a picnic under the fifth door of our brand new beat down, rusty blue Suzuki. We hurled ourselves onto fluffy billows of wild grass on the bluffs amid the reminiscence of Ireland, Hawaii, and Tuscany; we completely forgot where we were, and we forgot to care.  The whole, wide world lay ahead of us.  It lay everywhere.  In the bluffs, through the vineyards, over the one-way bridges, and behind the wheel of our new Suzy Blue.

Over the next four months, collecting picturesand dance videos of kiwi landscapes; volcanoes, glaciers, mountaintops, hills, waterfalls, caves, rivers, islands, seas, hot springs, and farmland, we could have convinced people that we took a trip around the world, but thankfully we didn’t have to travel that far, nor could Suzy (R.I.P.)  have made it.  Everything our eyes could take in and more was all in that double sliver of long island chamelion New Zealand.  And that was just a dent.  Can we go back now?