Estoy Consada

Wow.  Did you just hear that?  It was the sounds of a bear shitting in the woods.  Well, at least that mystery is over.  I also solved another mystery about 2 minutes ago.  I have been racking my brain as to why I have been on such a lull over the past few weeks in regards to my “blog”.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, probably because my fingers are too busy holding food for my mouth, such as a scrumptious bagel I picked up the other day from Avon Bakery.  I have been craving Cinnamon Raisian bagels lately and this one stood about as much of a chance of surviving as the Bears chances of starting a dominating QB this season.  Well, I realized that I have been drawing dead because I am generally very tired.  Tired of a lot of things going on around me.  I am guessing this post will offend a bunch of people who like the things I am about to list, but those people can go start their own blog and write about shit that offends me.  In fact, I would encourage such.  I have been in desperate need of a new website to puruse and it would be pretty sweet to have a “blog off”.  It would be titled “Blog Off, Pants Off” or something like that.  My list is completely biased because, well this is my blog.  So please do not take a poop in your shorts and blame it on me.  I don’t know what that means, but I like it.

 SKIBEAVER’S “DAM IT UP CUZ IT’S QUITTIN’ TIME” LIST

1) Ohio State (I refuse to put THE in front of the school name.  It doesn’t make any sense.)  Yes, I know that the chances are slim to none at winning the National Championship and slim just left the building, but I still am SO over them being in the number #1 position in multiple sports.  I’ve eaten cupcakes harder than their schedule thus far.  I know, I should be hating on LSU and Cal for well, sucking donkey nuts last week, but I am too shallow and short sighted of a person to do that.  I am also mad at OSU for Greg Oden.  The Blazers were once again tricked into buying into Bowie and gave up Durant.  When the sign in Portland was erected that said “Honk once for Oden, twice for Durant”, holy crapoly did I honk twice.  As loud as my little Honda could, despite that fact that I don’t live in Portland.  Even when the little girl down the street from me was holding up a sign that said “Honk if you like unicorns and rainbows” I honked twice. I hope I am wrong, but excuses for Oden’s lack of consistency started at OSU and now will plague his career.  Good luck Seattle (or is it Oklahoma City now?)  Oden or Bust?  I think Portland got both.

2) Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan.  Please go away.  You are exhausting my gossip site reading in a bad way.  I this is a very important aspect of my life.  Quite frankly, it defines who I am.  I am a shell of a person.  It is true.

3) The BCS.  What was it that I read it stood for?  Oh yeah,  Biased Cock Suckers.  I have nothing more to add.

4) Politics.  I thought we voted in 2008.  Isn’t it 2007?  I think I would rather listen to the overly annoying song be Beyonce “Ring the Alarm” for 24 hours straight than deal with two years of crappy campaigning.  “The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own”.

5) Dane Cook.  “There’s only one October!”  “There’s Only One Post Season!” Well, no shit Sherlock.  Who are the ad wizards that came up with those tag lines?  And why is Dane Cook famous?  He is not funny, he makes crappy movies and I would rather stand in the cold naked and have people throw sponges drenched in stale beer at me that watch Tourgasim ever again.

6) Jeans Tucked Into Boots.  Fall is here and the warm weather clothes are showing their weary face.  I don’t know if this will be a fashion again, but I cannot pull it off, and therefore I hate it.  My legs are too short and stubby for this look.  If I dared to try, I would look like a cross between a Pirate and Cartman from South Park’s Special Olympics Episode.

The bright side is I drank a fair bit last night and I am not hungover today. And ski season is right around the corner.  And Courtney Love isn’t my mom.  I’ll drink to that.

It’s Rocktober Baby!

Crazy Times in Crazy Town

Not much has been on my mind lately, as evidenced in my lack of posting.  I even went on a 5 mile hike, alone with a dog that does not belong to me and returned with not even one random deep thought. Well, I did wonder how long it would take for someone to find my body if a bear mauled me, but that is a bit morbid (yet thought provoking).  My guess is if no one found me in 1 week, then there would be pretty much no hope.  Well, I wasn’t mauled by a bear, but maybe if I had I would have gotten myself 15 minutes of fame and a life story would be airing about how many lives I have touched.  Probably not, maybe just a blurb in the obit section sans photo.  Wow, this really escalated farther than I ever intended.

Speaking of the Bears, how about the craziness in the world of sports?  Bears beat the FudgePackers, Romo turns the ball over more times that I’ve gotten whistled at in my entire life (I know, 1 interception a game is not an impressive number) and STILL beats the Bills, college football teams are swaping in and out of the top 25 like Pam Anderson marriages and October has officially been renamed Rocktober in light of the Rockies unbelievable winning streak over the last 20 or so games. 

Isn’t Dinger a gorgeous creature?  This is how I look after 10 beers (I know, I get better looking the more you drink).

It really is quite exciting.  I am just praying that the Ducks don’t dash my hopes and put up a lackluster performance against Washington State this weekend (At Autzen, 1:30 MDT).  Spoken like a true Duck fan, you are leery until that final bowl game.  Look at USC?  Who saw that one coming?  (If you said “I called it” then shut up.  You didn’t.  Trust me). And imagine Dave’s surprise when Ron Zook reminded us all these past few weeks that Illinois has a football team.  I used to amuse Dave at the beginning of each of the past 4 seasons and watch the first few Illini games on Gameplan (because you know that shit wasn’t televised) and then Dave would get disgusted and start chatting up basketball season.  Now you add some freshly squeezed Juice and Saturday mornings in the Big 10 are feeling pretty phuknomenal as of late:

Dude’s a sophomore.  Please don’t get hurt.  It is hard to watch Dave cry and I am not ready to start hearing about basketball season.

Beyond the glorious world of sports, a HUGE event is taking place this Saturday.  That pending marraige of Mike and Nissa, which should be no short of awesome.  We have some of the finest ladies and gents from around the US flying in to attend this affair.  These stunningly beautiful women thought I had some type of deformity on Semester at Sea and decided they would  do the humane thing and instead of putting me down, took me under their wings.  Imagine their surprise when they found out that I didn’t have an ailment and that I actually look and dress this way on purpose?  Well, it was too late by then and they have been forced into a 8 year email friendship ever since.  Bless their hearts for humoring me all this time.

I am so freakin’ excited to see everyone, I think I will blame this old stain on my pants as a stain of excitment.  That was quite gross.  On that note, if any of you ladies are reading this post, first let me congratulate you on your literacy.  Secondly, I plan on getting exceptionally hammered, offending the elderly and dancing like Elaine Bennis:

Thank you in advance to the Penneys and the Bakers for inviting me out of pity. 

Scooterlicious

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I long for a scooter.  Sometimes the mere thought of riding a scooter brings me glee, other time it drives me to tears.  You see, this is my daily struggle…..the elusive scooter.  I don’t have a scooter, and I don’t know when I will get one.  My name is Brook Portman and Woe is Me.

I was painfully close to purchasing the equivalant of a short bus motorcycle this spring.  I was a few weeks away from making my little dream come true.  But then we bought ourselves a bigger mortgage and the dirty dog was once again beyond my reach.  Every few days or so I see some lucky bastard riding around on a scooter and I roll down my window and yell “Screw you, you dirty lint licker.”  And then I crank some Nine Inch Nails to rock out my sorrows.  On a side note, there should be a band called The Angry Inch and they should sing songs similar to the Bloodhound Gang.

But alas, summer is almost over and I have barely survived it without my scooter. We headed to Denver for a couples shower this weekend, of which my co workers find to be a torturing devil event created by women to screw over the male race.  I think Dave was stoked for the free food.  Anyway, we are sitting at the shower with my friends Holly, Nissa and a friend of theirs and I start gushing to this other girl about my 2 year long dream to own a scooter.  There were hand motions, praying mostly.  It was ok, because it was my dream.  My dream dammit, and no one can take that away from me.  But then my friend Nissa says to Holly “You better tell her.”  Tell me what?  I began to see my biggest fear realized.  “I bought a scooter,” blurts Holly.  Holly had not only realized my dream, but she stole it out from under me, like taking a candy bar from a 3 years old (or me at 2 am).  Our friendship may have taken several leaps backwards.

So I pouted during the weekend.  Dave tried to console me, but he knows it will be at least another winter before a shiny new toy MIGHT sit in out garage.  On Monday, Dave and I were sitting at Tokyo Joes, eating some tight rice bowls and purusing The Onion (we are too dumb to read important daily newspapers like the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal) when Dave quickly looks up from his paper and exclaims,”I know how you can afford a scooter!”  My head shot up and for a brief, yes very brief moment I thought I would see my biggest and by far, my most important accomplishment realized.  Then he pointed to an add in the paper:

“We’ll Pay You $5,000 to Donate Your Egg”

Dave’s an asshole.