Then there are the dumb-shits who come to town to get drunk and cause trouble. Careful what you wish for!
“From Pete’s? Sure! If nothing else, I’ll eat the crumbs off the top.” It has this sugar/crumble topping that outshines the moist, chocolate cake-body. Yum.
“I have had a bag of it in my fridge for about five days. It’s still moist, but the topping looks a little sweaty. It’s still good! I’ll be right back.”
Hmm. What sounded delicious now sounds like a re-gifting opportunity…
Followed by, “Your first hint: If you think I’ve converted to Mormonism, then I’ve misspelled.” The world looked candy-coated, and I was bursting out in spontaneous grins. Were the Latter Day Saints big in Kentucky?
It was middle of the night for Dr T, he was probably not snapping on all cylinders. “Those references are as abstruse as a Pythagorean hypotenuse. Hmm…”
He’ll figure it out when he sees this picture of smiling green peppers.
Boy, you’re up to something…
I love the Multnomah County Library. Without them I would be adrift in a sea of ignorance. Oh, I have the Internet, but how would I have access to the cool stuff I can’t afford otherwise? I mean, I’d love to hear Jack White’s new project, but I’m not dropping $20 unless I know I’m gonna love it. Radio? WTF is that? They only play Steve Miller, Queen and Def Leppard.
That’s fine, but I want new stuff. And old stuff I haven’t heard in a while. Stuff so old it’s new again.
Hello, public library.
Some of the biggest arguments come from the smallest sources. When I worked at the store with digits in its name, the biggest problems came from people not wanting to pay A NICKEL for less than perfect photocopies, (“I know it says I made thirty copies, but only this one came out!”) or the amount of popcorn in a fifty-cent bag. (“The other guy gives me 650 kernels, you only gave me 589!”) Still astounded by people’s cheapness after thirty years.
At Master P’s we don’t have popcorn, photocopies or postage stamps. (“You charge fifty cents for a forty-four cent stamp? Is that legal?”) But we do have matches. Maybe the last place downtown that still hands them out. Free with smokables, a nickel if you walk in off the street and ask.
Tip: They are free if you say please, or are even polite.
Pushy much? We will fight you to the fucking death for that nickel…
Normally I would take this day off, to smoke what I want when I want. Since I already do that, I decided to party like a rock star on my weekend, and party a little less on the work day. No wonder my windpipe feels like a chimney today.
Oh, but we were going to discuss the weather. It’s been raining.
Long as I got my crystal Jesus,
Riding on the counter of my store…”
Yes, last night, at 7:24 PM Pacific Coast Time, I found Jesus. He was sitting in a box of energy bars.
I don’t know if this was a pack-rat thing, where someone was hungry and decided to let the Lord turn opportunity into overpriced compressed granola, or if some random wandering tweaker forgot the trinket he was fondling. (Tweakers like to fondle inanimate objects, play with gadgets, toys, etc…) During a sweep of the store, where I retrieve things squirreled away and return them to their rightful spot, I found this clear gem.
Immediately I texted Dizzy. “Meet Glass Jesus! My co-worker says he’s early.”
Earlier in the week Dizzy and I had discussed Christianity, and how the most “Christian” people tend not to be Christians. “As Christ would have it,” I replied sarcastically to some one-liner.
“Perfect! We need to start punctuating all sentences with that. ‘I have a raging case of anal warts, as Christ would have it.'”
As I moved from store to store, I came across Stretch, local barfly and drinking buddy if I ever drink again. “Hey, Charlie, how ya doing?” Stretch always has a booze buzz on, but he was especially drunk, and what’s that in Stretch’s hands? A baggie? “Hey, Charlie, you want some weed?”
Stretch reached into the baggie, pulled out a pinch and noticed a girl in the group wrinkling her nose. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’M STERILE!”
“Come and get it ladies,” I said. Stretch found this funny, and gave me an extra bud. A group of Blazer fans were disembarking from the MAX, smiling at this information. I looked both ways in case a cop was driving by, then realized it’s not illegal to give weed away in plain sight in the city of Portland. (It barely was before legalization, but the cops still look.) I took my handful of weed and carried on. Thanks, Jesus! The Lord giveth!I texted Dizzy when I got back to the Waterfront Store, “Coming for a visit?”
“I came down and you were gone. Boo!”
“I was out doing the Lord’s work. You should come visit. THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU! As Christ, well, you know…”
We even ended up hashtagging our texts with #ACWHI, although I mistyped it as @ACWHI and found a suspended account. Woohoo. An underground Christian cult I have been unwittingly sucked into the vortex of? Probably a marketing thing. The lord works in mysterious ways.
When I arrived at Dizzy’s for break, I asked how her night was going?
“Oh, I’m laughing about Jesus too much, but it’s distracting me from all the outside noise. Do you know earlier I heard some guy yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘I’M STERILE!'”
“That was Stretch, and he gave me about two grams of bud. As Christ would have it.”Undoubtedly I offended a couple of my more religious cussed-dumbers, as Christ would have it. There was some debate as to whether it really was Jesus, or Osama bin Laden, or Christ the glass-jawed yokel. When I got Jesus home, I investigated further and discovered Jesus has a hollow bottom. (Insert Judas joke here.) Brief experimentation revealed that Crystal Christ holds the same amount of medicated cough syrup as my teeny-tiny shot glass.
Therefore, as Christ would have it…
I drinketh the blood from the ass-end of Jesus. #ACWHI.
Okay, let the presses roll again. Let’s undo what we have done.
In the previous post, I mentioned Dr T’s new squeeze. In the process I mistakenly gave her age as twenty years his senior. Oopsie! That should be ‘junior,’as in sweet young thang he’s occupying dark corners and park benches with. Since Dr T is of an age where they now pay you to stay alive, (aka Social Security) a lass twenty years his senior would be the age of Barbara Stanwyck or Doris Day. Remember Loverboy? “She’s my grayest lady; My lady will be eighty!”
The New Girl is hardly that. The good Dr has confided that she’s his ideal body type, and they are like a pair of teenagers when together. (“It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes…”) They are a charming couple, and I am so happy they have found each other.
So, no, Dr T isn’t out banging octogenarians. (“A whole new wrinkle!”) He’s chasing the firm flesh of the young. As my dearly departed bro-in-law used to say, “Bite her in the ass, pray for lockjaw, and hope she drags you to death.”
It would not be out of character for Dr T to point at a lovely lass and say, “Check out the gorgeous gams on that one!”
If he were dating 80-year-olds? “Hey, check out the gums on that one!”
Ready for some grits in your gravy? The Pearl Invasion has begun.Within the past month, both Rain and Dr T have moved from Southeast Portland to the swanky Pearl District. Rain moved into a refurbished apartment in Slabtown, and Dr T was relocated after his old neighborhood evicted everyone blue-collar and replaced single houses with apartments, condos and mixed-use buildings. Attempting to create a bunch of mini-Pearls, if you will.
“Hope everything comes out okay!”
Or from my boss Eva, the delicate German flower, “How’s the poop-chute, Charlie?”
As age 55 approaches, I have had to make concessions about staying young forever. My youthful smile is now 75% prosthetic, my formerly twelve-pack abs are now holding a forty or so. My hair is mostly still red. In order to keep this old ball a rolling, I have to stay ahead of the game. Hence, preventive medicine.
Doctors have been coming at me with the garden hose for five years now. “Let us have a look up there?” I have had no symptoms or history, but when Obamacare kicked in, and I could start doing some of these things regular people do? I jumped on the chance.
Did I say jumped? More like I stepped up cautiously…