Keep Portland Weird

Finally, it's time for my summer vacation. I love Portland, Oregon, so I decided to plan my Portland visit around the annual Oregon Brewfest. It's always the last full weekend in July, and this year 78,000 rowdy drunks were in attendance during the four day swigfest. What happens in Oregon, stays in Oregon (and goes on my blog).
I took Metro's Airport Express to IAH and loved it. My bus driver was Joseph, and he's been driving for Metro for over 25 years. He was great. I encourage Houston to hop the bus to the airport next time you leave Space City because Metro is the only way to travel, especially if you have been drinking...
Portland was cool and sunny. I got on the #15 bus to ride to drinks, I mean dinner, and was acosted by The Busdriver from HELL. He screamed at me for not filling my bus- pass out correctly. I was so amazed that anyone screams in Portland, which seems to be Let's Get High City U.S.A., that I rode for 2 blocks then got off. I thanked The Busdriver from HELL for his helpfullness as he continued to yell at me, so I then called him a rude-ass motherfucker and told him he should thank his lucky stars I didn't shank him.

Next morning was the beer brunch and parade where I only talked to shiny, happy people. I loved that the mayor of Portland, Sam What's His Name led the parade of drunks to the waterfront for Brewfest. What a trip! Who doesn't love a parade? Houston needs a brewfest. Everyone was thrilled to be strolling the streets of Portland with beer mugs in hand. Once we got to Brewfest, I was like a kid in a candy store. So many beers, so little time. People came from all over the globe for this experience and it was well worth it. I met many interesting characters, and partook of tons of great brews. I attended Brewfest three days, so I do believe I'm a beer expert now. After Portland, it was time to hit the brewpubs in Tacoma and Seattle. More on that after I've convalesced a couple of days. Remember, when it's time for a beer, like for breakfast or something, think Oregon then drink Oregon!

Thou Shalt Not Covet Beads

What better way to start off the morning of Pride than with a trip to the Kemah farmers market. I road tripped over to Laporte to catch a ride with my friend Charlotte down to Kemah. Hotter than a mofo, but we managed to have more than a few laughs while on this shopping extravaganza. The Ghost of Bob Marley sold us some hippy hats which Charlotte got us the teacher discount for.  My hat and bracelet came to a grand total of $17. I handed the Pride of Jamaica $20, then I had to tell him how much change to give me. Please, kids, stay awake in Math class or this will be you one day. Or... just don't smoke your breakfast before going to work.  We finished the morning with a detailed tour of Laporte. I had no idea there was so much to do there(yawn). Main street was a buzz with Pride fever(not). Still I enjoyed my outing(?) with Charlotte and look forward to our next excursion.
Later I stopped by W2W to be the bead fairy, then off to Empire for an afternoon ,then night, of debauchery. They started my day off with a 2010 Empire Cafe Pride t-shirt and some sort of alcohol filled coffee drink. Wow! 4pm and it's time for a Pride stroll down Westheimer. After my stroll I was back on my Empire bar stool. What to drink now? Tony suggested a dirty martini and I agreed since I like anything with the word dirty in it. Double WOW! I was privileged enough to warrant a seat outside with the Empire Pride crew and their swinging families. Mary, Shannon and Cory all had the coolest moms EVER. Families that Pride together stay together is my motto. Mary's mom, Mary V., told me stories about the Sting concert the night before (thanks a lot Mary). Hopefully I can attend a concert with Mary V. and her friends in the future. Conversing with the Slokars and the Pipers was a great kick-off to Pride.

At 7pm we all had our own Pride parade down Westheimer to Mary's brother Cedomil's place. Croatians certainly know how to have a good time, so after another martini and a shot of tequila it was parade time. My mistake was standing at the street barricade. Stupid Drunken Bead Whore and her boyfriend spent the first 30 minutes of the parade hitting me in the back and head while grabbing at flying beads. At one point I looked at her and said "stupid bitch" and her slurred reply was " what bitch?". I contemplated beating the shit out of this skank but decided that jail was not an option, and Pride promotes peace and understanding, so I backed away from the street and showed my Pride in Cedomil's front yard.
I decided to make my way back to Empire for more martinis. Along the route I stopped to talk to friends, students and parents. Nothing like having a PTA meeting during the Gay Pride Parade. Safely back at Empire with my martinis, Jeff entertained me by reading the Houston Press personals aloud. What's a regular Chinese girl? Is there an irregular one? The martinis were clouding my thinking and the parade was over, so I headed home looking forward to another successful Pride celebration in 2011. See y'all next year!

Willie Green, Discovery Green, We're All Green!

Time to redeem my St. Arnold's carriers for precious points. Thursday at Discovery Green , St. Arnold's will give you double points for the carriers you turn in to be recycled, so now my beer account has 50 points in it. I can't wait to go shopping! Since I was wearing my Keep Portland Beered shirt, a lovely, beer drinking couple, Richard and Susan Nelson, stopped to share with me some places to swig beer in Portland and Seattle. Although Richard is an Aggie, and Susan is from Mizzou, they had lived for several years in the Northwest. I'm looking forward to next month when I am in Portland and Seattle, lifting a cup of brew in honor of the Nelsons.

The sky looked ominous, but that didn't deter the drunken crowd from dancing and having a good time as Joe King Carrasco played tunes that took us all down Houston memory lane. All ages were cuttin' a rug under tornadic conditions. It takes more than a little turbulent weather to make Houstonians stop partying and go home. On my way to my bus stop, I stopped to read the sign donated by BP about what a green, wonderful company they are. Ha! That's the funniest thing I've read this summer. Onward to catch the #82 where I met a great downtowner, Willie Green. He has lived downtown for 14 years and is a native Houstonian. He was well versed in the law and spent quite awhile explaining to me the difference between a class c misdemeanor and a felony. In fact Willie told me he had just gotten out of the city jail for a class c misdemeanor which was for enjoying a few beers on the streets of Houston. Po po don't like that shit! Hide your beer unless you are stumbling out of a swanky Main St. club then the po po looks the other way. Average citizens like me and Willie will be sent to the big house for having a little public fun. He shared with me the pros and cons of city, county and state lock-ups. What an eye opening education I received from Mr. Green. I think I'll do my darndest to be a law abiding citizen because no incarceration sounds like a picnic to me. I liked Willie and will have to talk to him in the future. His parting pearls of wisdom were to stay away from those Pierce Elevated folks because they is crazy! Amen Brother Green.

Will Road Trip for Peaches...and Beer

Nothing says summer like a road trip to Fredericksburg,TX. My friends On Golden Pond were dying for some fresh peaches, so that gave me a good reason to make a run for the Hill Country. With orders in hand, I loaded up the Jeep and hit the road. I was helping Blur sing Girls & Boys when I realized I had taken the wrong exit off of I-10. Oh well, surely this road will hit Highway 71 somewhere up ahead, and, besides my favorite song Drunk Girls by LCD Soundsystem was on and needed my full attention. It's so hard to clap and steer at the same time. I'm pretty secure in being lost, since I've spent a good portion of my life in this state and have lived to tell about it. Sure enough, I found the road to Austin after a few(dozen)miles.
Had to stop At Ruta Maya in Austin for a latte. I talked to the coolest barista named Nathan. He lamented about the fact that Austin had gotten a little too commercialized over the past 10 years. He also talked about why we call it an "alarm" clock instead of something a little more soothing. The world has gotten faster, which Nathan and I think is sad, so I grabbed my latte and ran to my Jeep! I am 100% American and proud of it.
Got to Fredericksburg and stopped at Silver Creek for lunch. There was a local songstress serenading the customers. All of a sudden, she quits playing her guitar, stands up and yells "OMG! I'm in pain! It's my period!" Don't hold back sister. Gloraline then grabbed her tip jar and went inside for a beer. Who could blame her? Later I headed out to Chisholm Trail Winery where I imparted the story of Gloraline to the Wine Mistress. I thought she was going to pee her britches and I got a nice laugh retelling the tale myself. Everyone is happy in the Hill Country. Wine Mistress recommended the Crossroads Saloon for a drink. You don't have to tell me twice, so I headed back in town to check this place out. I had a great bartender named Jon who could pour a mean Pinot Noir. I struck up a conversation at the bar with John and Susan Hever from Johnson City. They told me the best place to buy peaches, and also told me stories about drinking wine with Lyndon and Lady Bird Johnson's youngest daughter, Lucy. The Hevers brought a tear to my eye when they said that the highway from Johnson City to LBJ's ranch in Stonewall was lined with people on both sides to pay respect to Lady Bird when she was taken home to be buried. We then toasted the Best First Lady Ever! John raises longhorns and asked me if I knew anyone that wanted to buy one. I said my friend Ashley wanted one. I forgot to mention that she was a crazy Aggie and would use that poor steer for target practice. The Hevers rolled out to a party, and I rolled out to another bar. I then drank wine at Lincoln St. with the manager, Danny, and some unnamed strange guy that appeared out of nowhere and talked about Idaho for 2 hours. Maybe I was slightly inebriated...maybe not.

After peach shopping the next afternoon, I decided to make a detour home and tour the Real Ale Brewery in Blanco, TX. What a treat. It was nice to see the place full of drunks at 2pm on a work day. Gabrielle, the Mistress of Brew, was serving up wonderful samples of Real Ale as fast as she could. I always support Texas and Arkansas breweries. OK, I support any brewery but Real Ale is definitely in my top 5 .This road trip was a success, and I'm hoping The Ponders will ask me to go back this summer for more peaches...and beer..

The Astros=Bad Sex

So far it's been an unmemorable Memorial Day weekend. What better way to chase away the blues than a baseball game. But it's the Astros..oh well. Jumped on the #82 headed to Minute Maid Park Monday morning. A gentleman in his 50s or 60s got on carrying what looked like to me a vintage phonebook. I thought what is this freak doing reading a phonebook that was like 40 years old? Then I spied diagrams...bomb making diagrams! You've got to be kidding?! In Houston effin' Texas! Our bus barrelled up Louisiana Street. I felt like I was a bus riding extra in the movie SPEED! This was The Best Bus Ride Ever! Suddenly the Dennis Hopper-wanna-be must have realized we passed the federal building, so he pushed the stop requested strip and got off dazed and confused about 7 blocks north of his target. Read about you in My Yahoo! News manana.
Minute Maid park is a beauty, but why is the top on? That sucks, but so do the Astros. Thank G-d for Angela the Mistress of Beer. She made my day by carding me when I got an adult beverage. Go see her across from sections 124-125 at The Union Station. The friendly employees make up for the disaster on the field.

Houston played like shit. I am the biggest fan of the guy that hopped out of the right field boxes during  the 7th inning, ran straight across the outfield. cleared the center field fence, then was dragged out of the ballpark by security. Marry me?!?! Another disgruntled fan attempted this feat in the 8th inning but was tackled in center field by the waiting po po. Fans aren't getting their $$$s worth from the players, so we might as well be entertained by the fans. Jon and Kate minus eight sat in front of me and were interesting for a little while. She nagged her cuckolded mate as he surfed porn on his phone. What a happy American couple. I paid 40$$$ for this? Astros need to teach some fundamentals at practice if they expect to win and get any people to pay to see them play. Some drunk ladies in the restroom said "you know what the Astros have in common with bad sex? ...Everything! hahahahaha". So, I thought about it and came up with this-it starts out fine, then starts to go down hill from there; you hang in there hoping things will improve until you just have to scream STOP THE MADNESS!!!  Happy Memorial Day!

For The Homies By The Homies

What better thing to do at the end of a grueling work week than to treat myself to some excruciating pain in the form of a new tattoo. I saw where Reliant Center was hosting a humongous Tattoo Expo this weekend, so I figured that would give me a chance to ride the rail AND meet interesting people. My friend, Jamie, of Wes & Jamie, has been telling me for months what an adventure riding the rail is. Jamie has reminisced many evenings at Water2Wine about the ambiance of of her rail commutes to and fro the med center during her work week. I couldn't wait to experience the smell of rotting garbage(and people), and the pimps attempting to cut their hoes...or is it hos? I'll ask Monday at school.

The rail ride was uneventful to Reliant, so I could only hope for better luck once the sun went down. Reliant Center was filling up with Houston's finest tattooed citizens. Artists were there fron TX, Louisiana, NV and Cali. The air was electrified with the buzz of the tattoo guns. I began my stroll around the expo, stopping to chat with varied artists about their creations. I then spied lots of hemp necklaces, Bob Marley t-shirts and glass pipes and knew that was where I needed to be. The purveyor of these delicacies was Chambah the Rastafarian. He sells his goods on South Congress in Austin. He said Austin had more hippies than Houston, so he made more $$$ there. Since I speak only English, and a smattering of Spanish and Hebrew, his Rastafarian lingo was lost on me. I liked King Chambah, and told him I would see him in Austin one day. On to the tattoo contest. It was just like Miss America. Contestants lined up and waited for their names to be called. They then sashayed up and down the runway, stopping to graciously pose for pictures. I got great shots of Brad from Houz Of Ink on FM 1960 and Crack Girl from Shreveport, LA. This really made me hungry for some new ink, but I only had $60 bucks...what's a girl to do? As I eventually made my way back to the starting point of the expo, I talked to David of Penitentiary Ink out of Long Beach, CA. Cholo Dave immediately asked me for some shrooms and/or pot, so I figured I could trust these guys. David told me the Big Lou would be honored to give me a new tat for $60. Oh boy! What a great night! I told Lou to remember he wasn't still in the big house, and please be gentle with this little, white school marm. After a relatively painless 15 minutes, I was sportin' a brand new tattoo. Life doesn't get better than this. I'm now an official homie since Penitentiary Ink's motto is For The Homies By The Homies. The band was rockin' some Stone Temple Pilots when I bid a sweet adieu to the Tattoo Expo. Now for the rail ride uptown. No crazies at the rail platform. At the first stop, a couple of unsavory gentlemen got on, then half a dozen smellies boarded at the next stop. I had my camera poised for shooting, then, all of a sudden at the med center stop, the stinkin' Metro po po jumped on screaming Get out your tickets! Get out your Q cards! It was like a Chinese fire drill but with homeless ants. Po po always spoils the fun. Sorry Jamie! I'll try again in the future. It was only 10pm when I got off the rail, so I went to Khon's for a few drinks. The Cory Wilson Jazz Group was playing. I was impressed, so if you ever get a chance to hear these young guys then do so. You won't be disappointed. No better end to a Friday night than sharing drinks and stories with my buds, Shannon and Cory and Khon. Like the great Chambah told me about age, I'm not getting older, I'm just getting more exposure.

High Priestess Christine and the Enchanting Times

Friday marked the end to probably my hardest week of 2010. Time to welcome the queen of shabbat, and what better way to do that than drinking at my friend Jill's house. I love lapsed Catholics. Jill made sure I had an adult beverage at all times, while her husband, Brett, painted upstairs, consequently tripping on fumes for most of the evening. I told Jill I needed candles, bread and wine for the start of shabbat. She did pretty good for a goy. We had a Lady of Guadalupe candle, unkosher white wine and some kind of berry-nut bread. Since G-d has a sense of humor, I thought this would do in a pinch. I look forward to more shabbats at the Williams.

Saturday was dull and rainy, so I decided Sunday would be my bus riding day. I hopped on the #81 line around noon and transferred to #27 heading north to the Heights. No bus action, but I found plenty of interesting people once I got to Psychic Sunday at Temple's Gate. Once I walked in, I discovered that Temple's Gate was now Enchanting Times. They had only been open a couple of days, so I really lucked out. My favorite tarot card reader, Joelle, was there. She offers enlightened spiritual solutions to people. Joelle has read my cards several times, and she has always been right on the money with her readings. She told me my health and life in general was good. Exactly what I thought, especially after some crazy bitch fortune teller at the Renaissance Festival told me I would die of a heart attack soon. I want a refund! I then talked to Reverend Christine. She has been a studying and practicing witch for 22 years, and teaches Eclectic Wicca classes to the public. Teresa, the store's owner, told me that she took a class from the good reverend, and that's how she ended up buying Enchanting Times. Her daughter, Holly, works with her at the store. They were all friendly and extremely informative. I then conversed with Feather the Good Witch. She gave me a real education on Paganism and Wicca. I had no idea they were so involved. I wouldn't mind taking a class from Feather to learn more about her practices. Her husband, Dancing Rabbit, is an accomplished author. They suggested some authors and books that I should read to learn more about the worship of Mother Earth. I feel empowered to start the work week tomorrow knowing that I'm not going to drop dead any time soon.