Because Lilith and Dawn did it…
I’m a generally unf***witted, liberal, not-too-generous, not-too-selfish, pathetically simple-minded, dribbling child!
See how compatible you are with me!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
For the record, I was 95% compatible with Lil’ and 83% compatible with Dawn. Make of this what you will…
(Aren’t you all glad I’ve taken to jotting down little reminders in my phone to jog my memory? Yes, I’m sure you are. Heh.)
The TriMet bus (and light rail) system is, all things being equal, a tremendous asset to the Portland metropolitan area. It is also, from time to time, a source of amusement.
The #14 line runs along Hawthorne Street in southeast Portland, and so is known as the “#14 Hawthorne,” which is displayed on the electronic signboards on the front and side of the bus itself. But what happens when the rightmost half of the sign is malfunctioning?
Well, it makes the bus Hawt, apparently. 14 Hawt, to be precise.
*cough*
Okay. Moving right along am I the only Portland resident to notice that cast-off couches are virtually everywhere, even in places you wouldn’t think a couch could migrate to? You sort of expect to see on one a curbside from time to time, but in the middle of a berry thicket? In a gully? I swear, there are couches (and I’m lumping loveseats into the “couch” category, if you must know, you pedantic person you) everywhere in this city. I’ve never particularly thought of a couch as an outdoor accessory, but clearly a fair number of people have.
I was discussing this phenomenon with Lilith recently, prompted (of course) by yet another curbside couch sighting. She, too, had noticed the proliferation of couches, but hadn’t assigned to it quite the same level of fascination (or obsession, if you prefer) that I have. If nothing else, this clearly establishes which one of us is crazier. Useful, that.
Her joking comment was that perhaps instead of calling Portland “Stumptown” we should call this place “Couchtown.” But then, of course, we’d have to pronounce it like we pronounce Couch Street
Oh, wait. “Cooch Town.” Scratch that idea, folks
The recent migration of the Amish Tech Support Dead Pool (2004 edition) seems as good an excuse as any to list the picks I’d made last December for this year’s run. (Last year, for what it’s worth, I managed one measley death out of my entire roster. This proves, yet again, my complete lack of precognitive power.)
So here are my 2004 picks, in alphabetical order:
Astin, John Brando, Marlon Dawson, Richard Falwell, Jerry Garner, James Gorbachev, Mikhail Hefner, Hugh Ioccoca, Lee Kasem, Casey Lee, Stan McCullough, David Palmer, Arnold Stevens, Cat Taylor, James Thatcher, Margaret
DISCLAIMER: Yes, yes, this is sick and wrong and reprehensible and God will probably punish me, yadda yadda yadda. He was going to do that anyway, so I doubt that my participation in the Dead Pool will matter that much in the final reckoning.
Oh wait, I’m agnostic, so I don’t really believe in that crap anyway. Alright then, bring on the falling celebrities!
ATS Dead Pool 2004
