Ho Ho Ho...man I am going to Hell for sure...and that little phony ad probably didn't help.
I don't have much to update about.
Yesterday, Tim Robbins spoke to the National Press Club about the sad state of the media and the poor treatment he, his wife, his children and extended family have received from the press since speaking out about Iraq. Later that night, a talking head show on MSNBC used it as the centerpiece for a story on Hollywood Elitism. I'm not sure if that's ironic, or just stupid.
Where have I been? Seriously. I woke up in a ditch a few hours ago covered in macaroni and cheese and dressed like a flamenco dancer.
My hazy mind is able to recount for some of my absence, however. No I didn't get a job. My relationship with Portland continues to resemble the relationship between a walnut and a hammer.
Part of the time was spent with my family and friend who came to visit and attend a wedding. Most of that time was spent at the airport. Why, you don't ask even though I want you to? Simple: First, pick my friend Neal up, go back a couple days later to drop off Kathleen, go back the next day to drop Neal off, return two hours later to pick him up as his flight has been cancelled and is forced to stay another week, return the next day to pick up my sister and her boyfriend Mike, come back again the next day to pick up my mom, a couple more days later drop Neal off, the next day drop my mom off, a few days later drop my sister and Mike off, the next day pick up Kathleen.
Of course the war started as this was going on. As a result security was increased at the airport and random car checks were enstated. Though I was at the airport numerous times, my car was never checked. Was I merely lucky? No. I was overlooked because of my membership in a certain exclusive club.
The non-airport-related time I spent with these people while they were here was nice. I drove to the beach a couple of times, and on the way ate at a restaurant called Camp 18. This place is made to look like and old lumber camp and serves the kind of food that sits in your stomach for days. Needless to say, I love it. When you are done eating, there is a guestbook you can sign and write comments in as you are leaving. I signed it on both visits and left such positive comments as "I like to eat food," and "My favorite part was chewing!"
Another bonus that came with my visitors was that they wanted to get out and see Portland. As a result, I went to tons of places here I'd never been before. Apparantly Portland exists beyond the areas I travel in....for now.
There is a lot I don't understand about this ad. "Bob" is clearly happy to work at Richmond, yet "Steve" is harder to read. Is he in the midst of concocting some vile machination to doom mankind? Is he praying in an incorrect and therefore painful way? Did he just sit in puddle? Is he angry? If so I don't see why. This "Bob" character seems to be a bit of goon, which is why I am assuming he was laid off in the first place.
But the real twist lies thusly: The man on the right's real name is Bob. How do I know this? He is the one who took me on my little adventure in marketing. So, should the labels be reversed? Is Bob (really Steve) actually the happy one who is so happy to have gotten rid of Steve (aka Bob)? This would make more sense because Steve/Bob's expression would be similar to mine had I just started at Richmond Marketing.
Now, you may ask: Gee John, Why did I just sit through all that unfunny about some crummy scan concerning a place I don't care about? Because people were jumping up my butt about updating so here I am at 4 in the morning trying to make a big update to cram their talking holes with silence for awhile.
