the land of port

Well hello, Internet. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry. Don't hate me. There are just other things in my life exponentially more important than you. You understand, right?

Right.

You're wondering how my weekend was weren't you? Well I'm not gonna tell. Okay, you're right, that's a lie. I'll probably tell too much and leave young people scarred for life. That's what I'm good at. Uh huh. Yup. I think we should all recognize our own talents. And mine is a blurry view of limits. And why do we have lines if not to cross them, hrm? HRM? You can tell how good I was at coloring in kindergarten. While my teachers certainly weren't fans, I'd say I was a young Picasso. In other words, brilliant.

Where was I? Right! This weekend. Sorry. I may be slightly sleep deprived which is causing my humor nerve to fire spasmodically. I can't control it. And I bet you didn't know I knew words that awesome didja? Yup, like I said, brilliant. Brill. Yant.

Getting on track may be a lost cause at this point. And between the airport pretzels I had for dinner last night, my delayed flight, and the fact that I didn't want to leave Portland at all has made me a teensy bit punchy. Not cranky. I had too good of a weekend for cranky. No, I've crossed into some land where I have no filter and can't stay focused on one topic for more than...ooh what's that?

See? Okay, I'll attempt some semblance of focus. My weekend was pretty rockin'. Sometimes literally. I'd tell you the highlights, but I think some people read my blog at work and I don't want them to get fired. Oh hell, we all know my writing is an exercise in blushing so if some choose to read it in eyeshot of their employers, not my fault.

Some tame events of the past three days included an excursion to a Vietnamese (I think?) fish market (plenty of disturbing fun there), lunch with the bestie, and plenty of talky talky time with Love Interest. It was fantastical and I mean it that if I didn't have a job and two cats to support, I may have considered missing my flight and living on the rainy streets of Portland. There are no jobs, but I hear there's always a demand for strippers. I realize I'm ballet-trained, but I'm sure I could have translated that to a career on the pole. Don't judge. You'd do it too.

And I did come home with a little souvenir. I now need to wear a scarf around my neck for the next couple of days, except it's like 80 degrees in the south of California right now and that's incredibly uncomfortable. My neck is sweating like a cold beer bottle in Bermuda. But dudes, I try to avoid the whore-look at work. It's just professional, I feel.

And see? I gave you like three paragraphs of focus. I should win a prize. And that prize should be cash. Lots and lots of cash so that I can pay off my debt, move to Portland, take my friends traveling, and still have some left over to roll around naked in. Hey, don't roll your eyes. I just said I only avoid the whore thing at work. At work. What I do in my personal time is my business. And anyone who reads my blog apparently.

Yeesh.