I recently, and by "recently" I mean spontaneously due to utter loneliness and boredom, joined a website called "Meetup.com." I know, it sounds like some sort of creepy eHarmony knock-off but before you stereotype me as some sort of desperate single, hold your jets and let me explain. Essentially it's a way for people in the same city to find other people with similar interests and get together and do said interest together (totally platonically and without romantic pretense). I know it sounds corny, and yes somewhat desperate, but I'm telling you, this place is a lifesaver for someone who just moved to a big city without knowing anyone and just needs some people to do things with. Oh hey, I'm someone who just moved to a new city, sounds perfect!
It's also super fun. Well okay, the one meetup event I've attended was super fun so I'm a little biased, but it was awesome. I went to a board game meetup (nerd alert) and played some crazy intense (not that crazy or intense, I'm just out of practice) strategy eurogame called Puerto Rico. I still don't know what classifies a board game as a "eurogame" since apparently my vast knowledge of family and party board games makes me a novice, but I'm willing to learn more. I also met a few pretty nice people and experienced some lovely commradery for being a newbie. I may even go again, no I will definitely go again next week because I'm a loser who has nothing better going on Wednesday nights.
I've also joined a couple of other meetup groups, one of which is a book club (double nerd alert). In my defense this book club is going to the Oregon Brewfest in a couple of weeks and they hold all of their meetings at a public brew house. Did I mention they're all women (because men don't read)? How completely awesome is that? A women's book club that sits around discussing literature while drinking beer. I'm super excited and still have about three weeks until I even meet them. Speaking of books and being a nerd, I am also the proud new owner of a Multnomah county (aka East Portland) library card. I don't think I've had a new library card since high school and there's just something about the shiny new piece of plastic that hasn't been scratched up and bent yet that makes me giddy. Or perhaps it's also the fact that I now have unlimited access to even more books. The only downside is that the libraries here charge late fees and coming from a girl who was spoiled by no late fees and always returned books weeks late, this may take some getting used to. They aren't exactly pennies either, I'm talking quarters by the day.
Other than that, nothing much new is going on here. I'm still jobless and spending money much faster than I make it, but I've decided as a 22 year old who has been frugal and responsible her whole life (seriously, I still have birthday money from ages five to sixteen in my savings account) that I'm allowed to live a little bit. Perhaps it was a good thing I didn't spend my money on frivolous childhood toys since I can now spend it on lovely adult outings and adventures, I was one smart kid!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
smart dog
My roommates dog, whose name is Willy (something I should have mentioned in the last post) has outsmarted me. It's not everyday the college graduate feels inferior to a dog that hasn't even been to obedience school so I felt like a post was needed to record the event. So how did a species that lacks opposable thumbs outsmart a species with a pair? He locked me in my own bedroom.
Yes, you read that statement correctly, I was locked in my own room by a dog. No dog is not a metaphor, no this dog is not some crazy talented seeing eye dog trained to do these sorts of things, no the dog is not part robot and no to whatever other crazy explanation you can come up with to justify this experience. Also no to any questions regarding me being inebriated or crazy. Or delusional.
I woke up this morning to Willy's frantic attempts to get into my room. This happens occasionally after my roommate has left for work and he needs out. That is, Willy not my roommate. I rolled out of bed (quite literally since I'm still bed frameless) and crawled my way to my bedroom door only to realize it was locked. Now I think it's important here to mention that my bedroom door locks from the outside of the room. I have no idea why the door knobs were installed that way, the logic behind Portland construction is not something I've looked into yet. I tried the handle again thinking maybe I just didn't turn it hard enough - no, it was definitely locked. I pondered the likelihood that I was still dreaming, but decided that due to the lack of orange juice cartons, dancing candy bars or hitchhiking dogs I was in fact awake. Not to mention in my dreams the sensation of a cold door handle is never actually felt. Things just aren't that realistic in Chelsea Dreamland. I'm getting off topic.
My best guess at what happened to put me in this situation is that in Willy's enthusiastic attempts to enter aka lots of jumping and pawing at the door knob, he must have turned the knob the wrong direction and locked it into place instead of opening it. Apparently in Portland the fourth is an excuse to light off fireworks all week. I really do mean all week. I've been hearing pops and bangs since freaking Friday. At first each sudden burst of ruckus reminded me of guns going off and I was quite paranoid and jumpy, now it's at the point of being stupid. Have I mentioned these occur at all hours of the day and night?
Given nothing here burns apparently this is acceptable holiday behavior and apparently Willy doesn't like fireworks. As noticed by his frantic whining and locking of rooms with people inside them. Being the intelligent homo sapien that I am and grateful I was locked in my bedroom where I have an endless supply of potential escape tools, I fashioned a bobby pin (yeah, I'm a regular MacGyver) into a key aka unbent it so I could stick it in the keyhole, push the pin and make my escape. The entire time being whined at by Willy who was on the other side apparently unaware of what he had done and thought I was playing a cruel game with him instead. No puppy, the trick is on me.
So that's how I spent five minutes of my morning the day after America gained its independence - gaining independence from my own room. See what I did there? Although I am glad to see that I still work well under stress and half conscious. On another note not related to dogs, dreaming or fireworks, I took a hike near Mount Hood last Friday. Apparently it has snow year round, um, you're crazy northwest! I hiked to Mirror Lake... I'm sure you can guess how it got that name by the photo.
Yes, you read that statement correctly, I was locked in my own room by a dog. No dog is not a metaphor, no this dog is not some crazy talented seeing eye dog trained to do these sorts of things, no the dog is not part robot and no to whatever other crazy explanation you can come up with to justify this experience. Also no to any questions regarding me being inebriated or crazy. Or delusional.
I woke up this morning to Willy's frantic attempts to get into my room. This happens occasionally after my roommate has left for work and he needs out. That is, Willy not my roommate. I rolled out of bed (quite literally since I'm still bed frameless) and crawled my way to my bedroom door only to realize it was locked. Now I think it's important here to mention that my bedroom door locks from the outside of the room. I have no idea why the door knobs were installed that way, the logic behind Portland construction is not something I've looked into yet. I tried the handle again thinking maybe I just didn't turn it hard enough - no, it was definitely locked. I pondered the likelihood that I was still dreaming, but decided that due to the lack of orange juice cartons, dancing candy bars or hitchhiking dogs I was in fact awake. Not to mention in my dreams the sensation of a cold door handle is never actually felt. Things just aren't that realistic in Chelsea Dreamland. I'm getting off topic.
My best guess at what happened to put me in this situation is that in Willy's enthusiastic attempts to enter aka lots of jumping and pawing at the door knob, he must have turned the knob the wrong direction and locked it into place instead of opening it. Apparently in Portland the fourth is an excuse to light off fireworks all week. I really do mean all week. I've been hearing pops and bangs since freaking Friday. At first each sudden burst of ruckus reminded me of guns going off and I was quite paranoid and jumpy, now it's at the point of being stupid. Have I mentioned these occur at all hours of the day and night?
Given nothing here burns apparently this is acceptable holiday behavior and apparently Willy doesn't like fireworks. As noticed by his frantic whining and locking of rooms with people inside them. Being the intelligent homo sapien that I am and grateful I was locked in my bedroom where I have an endless supply of potential escape tools, I fashioned a bobby pin (yeah, I'm a regular MacGyver) into a key aka unbent it so I could stick it in the keyhole, push the pin and make my escape. The entire time being whined at by Willy who was on the other side apparently unaware of what he had done and thought I was playing a cruel game with him instead. No puppy, the trick is on me.
So that's how I spent five minutes of my morning the day after America gained its independence - gaining independence from my own room. See what I did there? Although I am glad to see that I still work well under stress and half conscious. On another note not related to dogs, dreaming or fireworks, I took a hike near Mount Hood last Friday. Apparently it has snow year round, um, you're crazy northwest! I hiked to Mirror Lake... I'm sure you can guess how it got that name by the photo.
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