Wherein Bry has favorite things.

NOTICE: This blog was recently edited by a sober Bry that woke up at 4am for work and thought "Did I take a lot of cold medicine last night and also drink a glass of wine and then blog?" Only to check and discover that is exactly what happened.

Oprah ain't the only beyotch who likes things. I like things, too. Lots of things. Things that have arms and legs. Things that sparkle. Things that look like puppies and wiggle around and lick your hands. Okay. Maybe just puppies that do that since I've met some uggohs out there that behave like puppies.

So here is my list of my favorite things right now.

1. Rain boots. My Momster gave me some rain boots and they are amazing. My feet don't get wet. Imagine that! Proper foot attire in rainy weather is necessary.

2. My super hot friends that have been super awesome to me as of late. Kooter is so pretty and funny and nice. The Beast read my minds and got me a haircut at Dosha! AM and MK and pie. RO who reminded me over the past month how much I appreciate her amazing support even though we don't see each other much. LL for checking on me when I was sick and inviting me to spend Christmas Day with her (though I didn't because I slept on the couch with the sick sweats rather than infecting the public). CJ for being my Scrabble buddy.

3. AA for being a great addition to my Partly Cloudy Hobo Express and a good roommate. He did the dishes and bought toilet paper today. I was about to resort to napkins, but I'm a class act.

4. This yummy bottle of wine and Trader Joe's for growing the grapes and hiring little xxxxxx (this word removed due to my liberal guilt and possible racist content) to stomp the grapes into some super delicious wine with their tiny little nubby feet. Did I mention this wine was delicious. Did I say something racist? Crap.

5. Books.

6. Wine. (I believe I already mentioned this).

7. A nice almost-man-friend who thus far is not mad at me for being a commitment-phobic beyotch. (I am not a beyotch).

8. Wine. (Again?)

9. My recovering health.

10. Wine. (Oh Jesus).

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 does some stuff and then eats some pie.

I typed up a blog on my phone while waiting for Nugget and then my phone went and died for no reason (unless it was trying to say "Listen beyotch, if you insist on dropping me on my head, then I insist on not working"). Which is just another reason why I hate technology. If you write something on a piece of paper, it doesn't disappear when the power shuts off or the battery dies. And if you drop the piece of paper on the floor, it doesn't break.
Well whatever I wrote, it went something like this.

I have not been blogging much lately because I've been tired and busy. If I wasn't sleep and time impoverished, I would blog every day. Instead, you get a blog whenever I damn well feel like it.

A lot has happened over the past few weeks but I either can't remember it because I'm too tired or it is not as funny or important as I once thought.

RF visited for the better part of 2 weeks and we spent the time eating, drinking and having a gay old time. No really, a gay time. We spent a lot of time talking about or actually pursuing men. I won't talk about the men on men action here. I don't want to make you blush and besides, does the FCC monitor blog content?

TN and his man-friend MS visited, too. I think MS is great and it is always nice when my friends date people I don't have to pretend to like.

I'm also moving again. Soon. I hate moving and it sucks and I'm tired of it. So I have 3 options.

1) Find a cheap place I will want to stay in forever.

2) Couch surf.

3) Move into KTs garage.

So prepare yourselves for options 2 and 3, they involve you.

My birthday is next week. I've never been too "birthday birthday" but I am looking forward to a dinner with friends and perhaps a walk or swing afterwards.

I am a bit nervy about turning 30. I always wanted to make it to Europe before I was 30 and it is not even on the horizon. It is really the only thing I've ever thought about wanting to do before hitting 30. I'm not after a husband or kids, just a bit of adventure.

I kind of remember this blog being much funnier before my phone tried to eff me over. But in between, I've eaten some soup and pie and now I'm lethargic despite copious amounts of coffee.

Today I was walking with my lethal umbrella and accidentally poked a service dog with it. His name was Sparky and he was quite nice about the whole endeavor and thank god his owner was blind so she didn't see me almost make her service dog need a service dog of his own.

There, I saved the blog from complete junk.

Wherein Bry drinks a slurpy.

JG: What are you doing?

Me: Drinking a slurpy.

JG: What flavor?

Me: Cherry

JG: Where are you?

Me: I'm not really sure. I mean, 7-11, but I don't know where we are.

JG: Who are you with?

Me: Friends. Hey, Question. I'm about to eat a hot dog with this slurpy. What do you think the nutritional value is?

JG: Not good.

Me: Is that your professional opinion? Is that what you would tell a patient?

JG: Well no. I don't know the exact nutritional value. But high in fat and preservatives equals bad.

Me: Hmmm. Well what if it is really, really yummy. Does the joy you get in eating it lower the poor nutritional value?

JG: No. If its bad for you, its bad for you.

Me: But if it makes me happy, does the emotional benefit outweigh the negative?

JG: Emotional eating is detrimental.

Me: Right, but its a hot summer night, I'm with friends. We are having fun. I'm in a good mood. I'm happy. This food is delicious. I'm not sitting in a dark room eating my feelings here.

JG: Hon, its science. If its bad for you, its bad.

Me: But don't studies show that happy people tend to be more active and therefore less likely to see the detriments of poor diet because of their emotional well-being?

JG: [sigh]

Me: What?

JG: Did you call me to talk about the philosophy of 7-11 junk food?

Me: I didn't call you. You called me.

JG: [click. dial tone.]

Text message from JG:

Going to bed. Will call when not irritated.

Text message to JG: I just took my shirt off.

[Phone rings, call from JG]

Text message to JG:

Just kidding.

Wherein Bry is just happy to be alive.

Here is a story to prove how much you love me, because I am the only one who will tell you stories like this.

Yesterday I woke up at 5am and the first words out of my mouth were "Mother fucking son of a bitch."

I have spelled out the full swear rather than masking it with one of these, $@*!, because I want you to feel the full force of my dirty, Orbit-less mouth.

See, it was 5am. And in order for me to get to work by 6am, I have to be in a carpool exactly at 5am and the carpool doesn't wait.

So other than being more than an hour late (not an option when it is your job to let everyone in), I would need to take a cab. I called a cab and then took a three minute shower, dressed, and grabbed my bag. I then proceeded to wait for 25 minutes and was about to call a rival cab, when the driver showed up.

Right from the start, he was a real charmer. As if it were my fault that he was late. That he was now going to be late getting the car back and would probably be fired. That, Holy Crap!, we have been driving for five miles and the meter is not running!

Not to mention the lethal speeds he was traveling at, weaving in and out of traffic.

And not to mention complaining about the distance and asking if he could drop me closer.

"With all due respect Sir, I said up front I was going to Lake Oswego and you accepted the fare."

And then he almost hit someone. Rather than being concerned about the person he nearly ran off the road, or me as his passenger, he asked "How much further? Where can I drop you?"

At this point, I could see work in the distance, and we were near the shoulder of the exit I needed, so I said "Drop me here." And he did. No questions asked. No "But ma'am, we are on the freeway!"

I threw a wad of $5s over the seat, which I thought was $15 but was only $10 (I found another $5 when scrounging up money for coffee). Really, I should have paid him zero. The actual cost would have been $30, so he got screwed in the long run. Not to mention that he probably lost his job when I called to complain later in the afternoon.

But wait! The story isn't over.

As I'm walking down the ramp off the freeway (a gentle slope, not an actual ramp), a car pulls over. And it is TS.

I get in and he is shaking his head. This is what he told CPR later:

"I was driving down the freeway and I see a cab pull over and someone gets out. I think who would get out of a car on the freeway? And then I realize it is Bry."

Later I told my boss, "You will probably hear this rumor that TS found me on the side of the freeway this morning and I have to say it is true. I'd like to say this sort of thing never happens to me but that would be a lie."