Archive for June, 2011

Ears and tears

Posted in Uncategorized on June 12, 2011 by Cristina

Just had a great crepe meal with a friend recovering from an ear infection; she’s taking antibiotics and seemed quite happy. This situation is very different from my many childhood days spent enduring the Romanian home remedy for ear infections: hot-salty-sock. Fill a tube sock with salt, heat up and hold to your ear. Repeat ad nauseam. This was my hell during a 1993 family road trip to the Grand Canyon. The drive from Texas was brutal on my ears despite all of Meat Loaf and Whitney’s sweet crooning. While Siiister & Dad were gaping at that gaping canyon, I laid in a motel room with a scalding sock on my ear and tears in my eyes, watching my mom iron the next one. Hot grains of salt would make their way through the sock-weave and get all up in my shit… this would be a very effective prisoner torture-technique. Wish we’d tried this AZ Hopi method instead:

Oooor… ermmm… antibiotics! After all the home-treated infections and years of not wearing ear plugs to raucous shows, I’m pretty sure I have tinnitus. Modern medicine best be ready to fix this soon because I’m never doing hot-salty-sock again!


Stumptown not a misnomer

Posted in Uncategorized on June 6, 2011 by Cristina

Guess what young Portlanders covet more than tattoo ink and flannel? Fucking wood. Ever the culture-chameleon, I fell in love with it after inheriting a beautiful redwood stump from a friend who moved away. So when I needed a watch last year, I took someone’s recommendation and bought this thing:

I feared it wouldn’t withstand our rainy weather or my clumsiness, but surprisingly, it has. I get a lot of “Is your watch made of wood?” questions and I wish I could respond with a smiley “What the fuck does it look like?” but that doesn’t fly here so I just say “yes.” If you, too, want to have this conversation with strangers, I highly recommend you check out WeWood. They plant a big tree to offset the tiny-murder of each watch.

Now that I’m comfortable with wood accessories and the fireball has finally emerged, I’m ready for these:

It might still be a while before I take to flannel or technical jackets.

Bags o’bagels

Posted in Uncategorized on June 5, 2011 by Cristina

Good news: my house smells like everything bagel.
Bad news: my stomach can’t dilate to this size:

A very generous friend banged on my window at unsavory hours this week to raise me from slumber and deliver endless goodies. I’ve given many away, my freezer & belly are full, so now I need your help with the rest so that I don’t turn into this:

They are delicious and come in umpteen flavors; if you would like
one to 100, PLEASE let me know and I’ll make it happen. Will deliver if you’re in biking distance. Yours truly, JtH.

Milkshake season again

Posted in Uncategorized on June 4, 2011 by Cristina

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve been devoting undue thought to my love-hate relationship with Kelis’ Milkshake song. A neighbor of mine is a bigger, less sexy male version of her:

Coincidentally, yesterday morning he offered me his chocolate milkshake AGAIN as I was heading to school. I normally try to avoid his house, but passing it is inevitable when I’m running late. Our first chat happened when I was new to the neighborhood and didn’t know better… he said some normal stuff and I thought, “Cristina, be a good neighbor and introduce yourself.” So I shook his hand and when he wouldn’t let go, I realized I’d made a mistake. Pried my hand out of his and walked away briskly as he yelled after me, “If yo boyfrien’ don’t treatchu right, come getchu some chocolate milkshake.” Duly noted.
I got to school (starving, because I’d declined the milkshake) and random guy said, “Hey come get some free pancakes over here.” I took two since they weren’t charging.


Posted in Uncategorized on June 1, 2011 by Cristina

I usually don’t care what people wear as long as they’re comfortable. Big women in midriff shirts or short shorts don’t gross me out, I’m just glad they’re having a good time (exposed skin always = good time). When the clothing matches the person and the weather, I’m calm. It’s stuff like animals dressed as humans and girls in minikirts/Uggs that gets me riled up. That is, when the wearer sports something rightly belonging to a different world. Yesterday, I saw this guy’s twin at the coffee shop:

I understand that the long-revered combat boots offer an ironic touch to his pacifist lifestyle… although I felt uncomfortable donning them with cammo at my safe desk job. CoffeeShop guy was wearing something even worse. These:

Construction boots complete with the patina of hard work and sweat do not belong on a guy who wears skinny jeans cleaner & blacker than my soul. Dirt and rough hands are sexy when earned, but I imagine that this manchild’s calluses could only come from spinning records, his mustache or iPod click wheel. If he even has a job, it’s not likely in physical labor. You’ve already stolen the worker-man’s iconic beer. Leave his boots alone and put on some glittery Toms because you’re not fooling anyone, mister.