A Letter to My Roommate RE: Mondo

I'm going to visit my Mama next week. My Mama lives in Montana and for the first time in 11 years, despite visiting at least once a year, I will actually be taking a flight into Missoula.

Normally, I climb onto the Greyhound bus here in Portland, put on some headphones, and self-medicate my self into a 14 hour coma and hope to make it through to Missoula without being murdered by a bus riding hobo.

This year, due to a constrained schedule, flying is really the only option.

While I'm gone, my four-legged roommate Mondo will stay with AM and MK. Probably mostly AM since AM is the owner of Seeley, Mondo's best friend with benefits.

I decided to write this letter to AM as an instruction on how to properly care for Mondo, things beyond feeding him and offering fresh water.

Dear Sister Wife:

Thank you for being so magnanimous as to add the extra burden of Mondo to your already full days.

I realize you are fully aware of what Mondo needs as you see him on the daily, but there are few little unique quirks about Mondo that I thought you need to know.

1. His Busniess Interests - At night, don't be alarmed if you climb into bed and find bones stashed in your pillows. Mondo has a lucrative side career in Bone & Toy Acquisitions. He is aggressively growing his portfolio at the moment and I ask that you look the other way, as a favor to me,  when you realize his collection is mostly of toys you probably purchased for your own beast.

2. Your Business - Mondo is fully committed to assisting you in your bathroom regimen. He believes his observation of your use of the commode is vitally important to his existence. Additionally, please be aware that he will most likely recline in repose outside the shower while you bathe and then offer his services in Therapeutic Foot Bathing, something that requires him to lick your feet the instant you step out of the shower. While I realize Mondo is neither a gentleman nor an apostle, he will attempt to show his affection by licking your hands and feet. The only way to avoid this is to cut off your hands or feet, though I'm sure he will believe your arm and leg stumps are equally needy of his Therapeutic Bathing.

3. The Loo - Mondo remains semi-capable of going outside on his own to use the grass commode. I find that he is more inclined to use the restroom on his own when he knows that I am in my own bathroom and he can therefore run over to the basement window and observe my process through the non-frosted glass like a world class spy (or creepy peeper). I will neither confirm nor deny that in order to see me through the window, I must be using the bathroom with the door open. A lady likes her secrets. As I don't see that it would be efficient and beneficial for you to go to the basement to use the loo, he will have to make due with going on his own. This of course does not apply to when he wakes up and before he goes to bed. At that time, he must be escorted outside like a prisoner.

4. Conversational Needs - Mondo likes to be addressed as Booby Lou, occasionally as Mondo Pondo Pudding Pie, and rarely as GODDAMMIT MONDO! He likes it if you ask, "Do you want some breakfast? Are you ready for breakfast? Is it breakfast time?" before feeding him, this applies to morning and evening meals. If you could also tell him "You are kind, you are smart, you are important"  at least once a day, he would very much appreciate the ego boost. Any time you pick him up, please sing "I like big butts and I cannot lie" while you jiggle his butt fat. He also likes it if you pet his Buddha belly post meal and say "Do you have a baby in your belly?" Finally, any time you refer to Mondo in conversation with other humans, please refer to him as "Little Dude" if you mention him in fondness and "Dick Head" if you refer to him with rancour.

5. DIY - Mondo likes to assist in DIY projects and I like to encourage positive and creative enrichment for his mental and physical health. He especially excels at sleeping on fabric and eating the plastic heads of pin needles. Don't be alarmed if you find your recently sewn craft project in the back yard, that is his way of telling you your project is so beautiful, he wants to sneak onto your desk, grab the project in his teeth, and hide it outside.

6. Walks - If you take Mondo for a walk, feel free to simply walk him to the end of the street and back. I've found that Mondo is equally as excited by walking six blocks as he is of walking three miles. I apologize in advance for his barking. He doesn't like weird looking people, especially the hobos that sleep in the park.

I believe these guidelines will serve you well during your week of dog-sitting. Alternatively, ignore all of the above and just keep him alive.

Thanks again,

Bry

Wherein Bry turns 30 and goes on a bender of sorts.

Well I'm back to normal post-minication. I am officially old even though, according to women's magazines, I'm reaching my peak years. I have a hard time believing any advice that comes from a periodical that insists on putting Lauren Conrad on the cover time and time again.

When I was a teen, my friend AP would tell me I gave good advice "just like Seventeen" magazine. Well hah! I read Sassy, which was for hipsters, so the joke's on her. Or something. What was I saying?

Oh right, my birthday.

So I had a super fantastic dream-like birthday that I don't deserve. But my friends are amazing.

I spent Thursday shopping with LM and then we got some drinks before I met KT and TB for pedicures. I even remembered my flip-flops, which means my pedi wasn't junked up three seconds after it was "dry."

Dinner was at Sweet Basil Thai, and was delicious. Followed up by some drinks with friends and then a very interesting night out downtown that was a bit too crazy for my taste. More on that later.

On Friday, I met SE in Beaverton and we drove out to Tillamook. We got to our campsite at Cape Lookout State Park and it was P.O.U.R.I.N.G rain. We set up a tarp and the tent in the rain, which was a comedy of errors.

By the time GS arrived, SE and I were done moving in to the tent and popped a celebratory can of Natural Ice (henceforth known as Natty's).

Then we headed into town and shopped for some groceries (if you can refer to buying hot dogs, donuts, cheetos, nutter butters and spaghetti as groceries. I'm pretty sure Shaggy and Scooby Doo (or Cheech and Chong) would be proud).

Then we got some pizza at some place that boasted they had "The Best Pizza & Salad Bar On The Coast." I was so hungry, it could have been an elementary cafeteria and I wouldn't have cared. Of course, then the pizza would have been in rectangle pieces.

Friday night was super rainy so we decided to play cards and hang in the tent. Had some whiskey sours, some Natty's, and played poker.

Saturday, we went on the cape hike fairly early. It was awesome. I love that hike. It is fairly easy and the views are fantastic.

Saturday was the only day we had a fire. It was too rainy and windy to hang out around the picnic table with the way we had things set up. We tried to take a walk on the beach when it was slightly drizzling but the wind was atrocious. So the rest of Saturday was spent in the tent, which was actually super fun, talking and playing cards, right up to about 9pm, when we went to bed. And approximately the same time a Tsunami-Tornado-Flood started its reign of terror.

There were times I wasn't sure the tent was going to make it through the night. At one point I said "I have horrible depth perception, but it feels like the roof is too close to my face." SE assured me that was not due to my depth perception.

It was about this time that I became a cuddling whore. Word of advice, don't pack for camping when you are hungover. You will assure yourself that a yoga jacket is all you need for a weekend at the coast if it means you can lay down on the bed just one more time.


At first I was burrowing behind GS like a mole. Then I had my feet under SE's sleeping bag. At one point I had my hands and feet under SE's sleeping bag. And I'm not sure if either of them noticed, but I kept tugging their sleeping bags closer to me, hoping it would cocoon me in between. My logic was faulty (probably due to some Natty's) because sleeping between two 5-foot cubes of ice is only a good idea when someone is trying to steal your organs. And while my liver might try to argue with me, I woke up intact.

The storm was so bad, other campers left in the middle of the night. This storm was so bad, only one other camping trip compares and that was a hiking trip to Bear Lake that involved a snowstorm, broken tent poles, and TG getting the flu and puking in her sleeping bag.

Sunday morning, we were awake, dressed, packed, and on the road by 9am. Got some breakfast in Tillamook at the Pancake House, and made it back to Portland by 11:30am.

Despite the storm, I'm do it all over again, but be a bit more prepared, and bring some duct tape since, ahem, someone didn't do their genetic part.

Fun Facts about my Birthday Bender:

# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 36 (martini, whiskey sours, shots, wine coolers, real good beer, Natural Ice)

# of hours spent watching Gilmore Girls: 8

# of hours spent watching How I Met Your Mother: 6

# of hours spent slightly damp from the rain: 36

# of hours spent getting lost while driving around with friends: 2

Jokes about murdering and kidnapping while shopping for rope and tarp: 1 million

Bry-isms:

"This isn't a Sorority Social, shut the hell up!"

"I hiked my pants up to my boobs so they wouldn't get wet and now they won't come down."

"My stomach feels gurgly. I think its because there is a cheeto floating in Natural Ice in there."

(In the midst of the rainstorm) "For the last hour I've been imagining we are on Mt. Everest."

"I'm not good with knots. I forgot my Boy Scout training."

"I'm putting my glasses on in case this is Armageddon."

Wherein Bry is an Irish margarita drinker, a walker, old, and crazy all at once.

On Sunday, I actually had a weekend day off, which was shocking. I decided to take advantage by going kayaking, something I've been wanting to do for months but haven't had the time for.

I was nervous, I've only kayaked in the San Juans and on a lake, both of which involved getting into the kayak while standing in the water. Not so on the Tualatin River, where I rented a kayak, where you get in off the dock.

When I was signing the rental agreement and releasing the company of any liability, I said to GZ, "Any liability I am releasing them from, I hereby transfer to you. You are now responsible for me."

Getting into the kayak went fine because the rental dude helped me. "I'm a little worried about my dismount," I told GZ. And I sort of did worry about it for the first hour, but then I forgot because I was having a lot fun.

We saw 3 heron and a bunch of geese whom I told "I will murder you if you come near me."

It was a really great afternoon on the river and it made me sad that it took so long to make it there; where did the summer go? How many more summer nights are there left?

Tonight when I was walking post-margaritas and pre-stout at the Co. Cork Public House, I kept laughing to myself and my walking companion kept saying What? But I had no answer.

In my head I was thinking about Bry of 24 years ago. Bry that wore the biggest, nerdiest glasses in the world (pictures soon to come!). Bry who had a belly that was always showing, though I was also quite skinny. Bry who was completely clueless there would be sad times down the road. Bry who only knew that Mom was going to make her dinner and hug her and tell her she loved her. Bry who was smart and starting to become funny.

And I laughed to myself, thinking, Bry of the past has nothing on Bry of today. And if I think Bry of today is the best Bry yet, then I should be excited about Bry of the Future.

And then I started thinking about Michael J. Fox which led to thinking about what would making out with Michael J. Fox be like?

And that led to thinking about making out with Christopher Lloyd. There were a few Back to the Future steps in there, but the end result is I'm concerned that Bry of the Future might have to make out with old dudes.

Wherein Bry is headed to bed, but first...

Last night I was on the bus on my way home from dinner and a walk with GZ when I passed by this brew pub in Tigard.

Oh, there is the pub KT likes, I thought. Oh, that girl looks just like KT and she even has a black dog. Oh wow, that is KT and Duncan.

So I hopped off the bus and yelled "Kooter!"

I'm glad it doesn't embarrass her when I shout that in public.

She was dining with TM and Angel (TM's dog). It was a fun little surprise. I sat with them for 40 minutes until the next bus arrived.


So, hot tattoo guy who asked for my number at work never called me! What a jerk face. Well he was semi-hot in the face. And he was a nerdo sci-fi reader, which is not a dealbreaker because, even though I'm anti-nerdfest, reading is reading (magazines don't count).

Gearing up for my vacation, my mom warned me about Tyra in advance of my visit. She is apparently senile, can't see, is really thin, but is not in pain and is pleasantly forgetful. I just want to see her one more time. She was a good dog and 15 is pretty old for an animal under as much stress as she has endured (hit by a car, unplanned pregnancies, orphaned by a college-bound owner, tormented by Rosie, and a lumpectomy).

One more day. Just one more day.