I Heart P-Town

Five Drinks for $5 -- The 80s Music is Just a Bonus

2009-10-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like getting wasted mid-week. And surprisingly, calling in sick on Thursday morning because you woke up hung over (and still a little drunk) is actually quite easy.

ME: Hi, this is East-Side Chick.
BOSS: Wow, you sound awful, ESC. Is everything ok?
ME: Yeah, I'm just not feeling so good.
BOSS: No, yeah, you should definitely stay home. You really do sound terrible.
ME: Are you sure? Because I can...
BOSS: No, please don't come in. Get better!

See? Never even had to lie.

Now, not everyone can afford to be calling in sick all the time, true. But CC Slaughters has come up with the perfect solution that makes it affordable to both celebrate Hump Day and punk out of work the next morning: 5 drinks for $5 Wednesday nights.

Now let me get this out of the way: Being the fag hag that I am, I love me some partying at CCs. Where else can you grab a drink from a bartender in his tidy whities, see two hot, shirtless guys simulating techno sex on the dance floor, and watch drag queens play pool? Besides another gay bar?

As an added bonus, Wednesday is 80s night, which means after you've had your five drinks you can make an utter fool of yourself on the dance floor to the sounds of Madonna, Michael Jackson, and the Thompson Twins.

So on a recent Wednesday night, I went down with my gbf and a couple of straight friends to partake. The laughter flowed, the drinks disappeared, and the dancing was good. The best part of the night was meeting Candi Wrapper, a seasoned local drag queen who was campaigning for... I don't know, something. Her minion passed out Dum-Dums from a basket while she schmoozed and fawned and offered little condom-filled "Weiner Wrapper" gift bags to all the guys. Which, by the way, I found a bit sexist when she looked at my friend and me saying, "You ladies don't need one." To which we promptly shouted, "Yes we do!"

By eleven, our 5-drink wristbands were used up, we'd been denied a second round, and the Hump Day special was over. So we stumbled out into the night, clutching our latex swag and wearing our "vote for Candi" buttons. Next stop: Silverado, followed by Scandals. And that's a whole nother story.

I've Lost My Fear of Sinning

2009-10-23T09:36:00.001-07:00

Deciding what haunted house to visit for Halloween is always a risky venture. Because really, that shit is so expensive these days it's almost impossible for places to deliver enough of a scare to make you feel your money was well spent.

My choice this year was easy, though. It was made for me the moment I heard about the Seven Deadly Sins house, put on by Darkest Dreams Entertainment. Lodged in the Pearl District, it promised "gore, nudity, torture, violence, perversion, discrimination, sexual content, and harsh language."

Well, sign me up. I'm there.

So last weekend, my girlfriend and I decided to check it out. We arrived in the Pearl to find a couple of tat- and metal-riddled fire dancers taking turns spinning their flames to a live band. After watching for a bit, it was time to go in and immerse ourselves in nastiness.

Here's how the website describes the experience (their caps, not mine):

A SERIAL KILLER HAS BEEN MASS
ABDUCTING PEOPLE FOR THE
SINS THEY HAVE COMMITED.

HIS WAREHOUSE HAS BEEN
DISCOVERED THOUGH NOT
ALL THE VICTUMS HAVE BEEN
ACCOUNTED FOR.

AUTHORITIES HAVE FOUND
EVIDENCE OF TORTURE
DEVICES, CANNIBALISM, AND
LEWD SEXUAL CONDUCT

Aaaand, here's what the actual 10-minute experience was like:

Ew.
Eew.
Eeeeeewwwww.
Arrrghhhhh run!!!!
Oh my god, look at his penis. Is that real?
Ok that one is definitely not real.
Is that thing really stuck up his...?
Wait, it's over?

So yeah. A lot like having sex with my last boyfriend. (Ba dum ching!)

Seriously though, folks-- I love, love, love the idea of mixing gore and scariness with perverted sexual torture. But I'm sorry, for twenty bucks you're going to have to give me more than one decent scare and a handful of bloody tits and penises.

I did actually quite enjoy the different scenes throughout the house. It was like a cross between Saw and Seven, only with everybody naked. And after we hit the first real scare, I was all warmed up and deliciously looking forward to the best that I was sure was yet to come. Had I known the first scare was also the last, I would have screamed a little louder.

On the upside, the haunted house exits into a dark little lounge where we were able to buy drinks, ogle a hot bellydancer, and sign up to win a free membership to Angel's sex club. So not a total wash.

A Great Event I Probably Won't Make It To

2009-06-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

I have a feeling I won't be able to drag my gay boyfriend to tonight's reading of Portland Queer: Tales of the Rose City at Powell's Books.

Which is just wrong, because isn't that what gay boyfriends are for? Taking you out to gay bars and Pride parades and readings of the hottest, hippest queer lit to hit the bookshelves?

But see, my gbf is apparently too self-actualized to feel the need to do things like actually act queer. So the rare drink at CC Slaughter's is about all I can manage to get out of him.

I'm looking forward to reading this book, which is an anthology of narratives about life in this great queer mecca. It's been making the rounds of Portland bookstores this month and will land at Powell's tonight at 7:30, with a reading by editor Ariel Gore and contributors Sarah Dougher and Dexter Flowers.

Here's a summary:

At once a love letter to the Rose City and a dream of escape, the first-person narratives of Portland Queer reveal the contradictions and commonalities of life in one of the world’s great queer meccas. A waiter falls in love with a straight guy from the café next door. A young dyke discovers gay karaoke at the Silverado. A pregnant man prepares for new life transitions. An ambitious teenager finds her tribe at St. Mary’s Academy. A closet-case is confronted by his wife. And a video-game addict takes a chance on love.

Aaaand here's a review from Daphne Gottlieb, author of Kissing Dead Girls:

As rough-hewn and gorgeous as the city that inspired it, this anthology breaks queer ground as it shows us that everywhere is Portland — but Portland is its own special place, home to queers seeking and finding home, from the city itself to each others’ arms.

If you miss tonight's reading due to short notice (sorry, I only just found out myself!) you can catch another reading at The Q Center Wednesday, July 8, at 7 p.m. during "QLiterati!," a queer and trans literary event every second Wednesday.

It's Like a Slasher Flick, Only You're in the Room With Them

2009-06-24T21:32:00.000-07:00

There's only one thing cooler than seeing blood, dismemberment, and disembowelment in the movies:

Seeing blood, dismemberment, and disembowelment on stage!

Horror hits the theater in Portland Friday with Dylan Hillerman's Grand Guignol, a night of one-act plays designed to terrify, titillate and disturb. The production, which will haunt The Back Door Theater on Hawthorne June 26 through Aug. 1, evokes the original Parisian theater that aroused gore-hungry audiences with erotic thrillers and sex farces in the early 20th century.

Three local playwrights have written four one-act plays to mangle the mind and push modern societal issues to the extreme, according to Third Eye Theatre, creators of this grisly mess:

In The Sneakies, we see sex and death can become a little more difficult to separate than one would like. Under My Skin gives us a glimpse into a world that’s about to end…in less than fifteen minutes. E (dis) Harmony shows us just how true the phrase “two can play at that game” can be, and finally, in Silicone Death Cult, a woman learns that her last broadcast isn’t her last broadcast, but her last broadcast will be live.

And for the macabre history buffs out there, GrandGuignol.com explains how this particular theater style began:

As used today, the term 'Grand Guignol' (pronounced Grahn Geen-yol') refers to any dramatic entertainment that deals with macabre subject matter and features “over-the-top” graphic violence. It is derived from Le Theatre du Grand Guignol, the name of the Parisian theatre that horrified audiences for over sixty years. Founded in 1897 A typical evening at the Grand Guignol Theatre might consist of five or six short plays, ranging from suspenseful crime dramas to bawdy sex farces. But the staple of the Grand Guignol repertoire was the horror play, which inevitably featured eye-gouging, throat-slashing, acid-throwing, or some other equally grisly climax.

The show runs Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights except July 4. Tickets are $12, and the doors open at 7:30 p.m. But beware, because the carnage might be already under way when you enter...

Clothes to Cover the Curves

2009-06-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

To all you big girls out there: Tired of scrounging the plus-size rack at Kohls? (Yes, the one rack.) Sick of sharing the fitting room with size zeros?

Check out This is for all the Fat Girls at OurPDX for a look at places to shop around Portland for plus-size fashions.

I'll admit I'm a fan of Torrid, but the price tags make me gag. I always admire the big girls I see strutting around downtown in cute and stylish clothes, and I can't help wondering where the hell they shop. I hope to find the answer on this list.

I especially want to try shopping at Fat Fancy Fashions, a vintage and modern boutique that's gotten international attention.

Girl power--whatever the size!

Portland Needs a Big Sloppy KISS

2009-06-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

Alright guys. We got passed over by AC/DC.

Let's not miss out on the dudes in makeup.

In April, KISS announced another North America tour--the first tour ever whose route will be determined entirely by fan votes. More than 8,000 cities and towns are in the running, and population size is being weighed against total votes.

Vote to bring KISS to Portland.

Now let me tell you why you should vote, even if you don't give a rat's ass about a bunch of old rockers who probably have to double their amphetamine dose just to make it through a concert.

Because I give a rat's ass.

That's right. I want to see these guys badly.

I am the only one in my immediate family who has not seen them live. My parents were rocking out at KISS concerts since before I was born. My brother and sister have both been. My entire family unit, minus me, were present the last time KISS came to Portland.

For one reason or another, I have missed every show. This bums me out.

These guys are on my Bucket list, okay?

Some other things you might like to know:

--Voting closes June 30. (So hurry the hell up!)
--Buckcherry is opening.
--Fans who vote will be able to buy presale tickets.
--KISS is currently recording its first new studio album in 11 years.
--There's a great article about this at Komodo Rock.

I don't care if their gray, hairy, 60-year-old chests are bursting out of their black leather man-corsets. These guys are hot, and they rock, and I deserve the chance to wear Gene Simmons' blood-spit at least once in my life.

So vote already.

Please Don't Run Me Over With Your Schwinn For Saying This...

2009-06-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

I'm about to say something really un-Portland.

I'm about to say something so un-Portland I might get stripped of my license to drive the Banfield and attend outdoor festivals and shop at Saturday Market.

I'm about to say something so un-Portland they might forceably shave my legs and dress me in a fur coat and run me down Burnside wearing a sandwich board with "I hate gay people" and "Obama is a tool" written in gorilla blood.

But I have to say it.

I hate bikers.

I do. I really do.

It's nothing personal. I know some of my friends ride their bikes around town, and I respect their decision to not pollute the air and be all healthy or whatever.

I just hate sharing the road with them.

I don't care how many decades they've been Lance Armstronging it. When I see some Spandex-clad helmet head wobbling up beside me on inch-wide tires, my first thought (after "nice ass") is oh my god that front wheel is going to, of its own volition, jerk sideways and send the rider zooming right into my bumper.

My second thought is, "Hello Mr. Handlebar. You seem a little overeager to meet Mr. Side-View Mirror."

Watching a biker whizz through traffic is like watching your grandma try to sprint across the I-5. It makes me cringe inside.

What brought this up is that this weekend (and next week) is a continuation of Pedalpalooza, a full two weeks--and then some--of biking-related fun. Yay!

The only, and I mean only, part of this event that makes me almost sort of maybe wish I had a bike and the chops to pedal it is the Zombie Ride tonight at 6:30 at Waterfront Park. Almost.

Because really, how appropriate, since most bikers seem to have some sort of death wish.

So, bikers, I guess I'll see you in hell.

I'll be the one in the VW bus.

Where Love and Art Collide

2009-06-18T11:00:00.000-07:00

Photo by Bill

A friend of mine from the zoo just opened a new art gallery in Sellwood, and it is amazing. If you're into art, you should stop by and check it out.

They have everything from paintings to pottery to jewelry to sculptures. I love the goddess art featured there, especially the light-up mosaic statue of Gaia. They even have giant prawns!

Heather and her family are are luminous people, and they deserve great things. Plus they give an extremely fair consignment deal to their artists; after selling crystals on consignment for years, they know what a crap deal some stores offer.

Here's the info:

Love Art!
8036 SE 13th Ave.
Sellwood, OR

You should totally go there!

Calling Dr. Feelgood!

2009-06-18T08:43:00.000-07:00

I sooooooo better win tickets to Motley Crue.

If You Can Read This, You Better Not Be Driving. Or, Honk If You Hate Hipsters

2009-06-17T09:00:00.000-07:00

I saw two of these side by side in the Subway parking lot on my lunch break yesterday:

I absolutely adored this bumper sticker, the first 267 times I saw it. Now I’m kinda glad I didn’t get one.

I’m thinking about going with something witchy instead, like this:

I’m a little bit afraid, though, of permanently attaching something to my car and then having all the yupsters start sporting the exact same thing because they think it makes them hip and cool and sooooo Portland.

Like this one:

I’ve seen exactly one car with the KPW sticker that didn’t make me groan. That’s because he put it on upside-down.

I almost applauded. Seriously.

Shook Me All Night Long--Best Cheap Shows I've Seen in Portland

2009-06-17T00:10:00.000-07:00

Hockey at Mississippi Studios, taken by a friend

Okay, so I'm the type of person who doesn't like to spend a whole lot on concerts. There are very few bands I'll shell out the big bucks for.

Metallica, back in November, was one of them. AC/DC, had they deigned to add us to their latest tour, would have been another.

So I tend to stick around the $20-30 range, and I have to say, it's been a great year for music. The highlights:

Ghostland Observatory. Amazing. Love. This. Band. They can make you feel like you're tripping even if you're stone-cold sober. If only the Crystal hadn't been so damn crowded and stuffy. And I hate that all-ages show crap. Let the booze flow, and let the kiddies go see Twilight.

Ladytron. Another great show. Highly danceable.

Hockey. They played a free show at Mississippi Studios, and it was rockin'. This local band is going places. Literally. They're on the docket for Bonnaroo, a huge Southern music festival--those who live in Nashville know just how huge (and how huge of a pain in the ass) it is.

Fischerspooner. Actually, it wasn't Fischerspooner that blew me away, although they were fun (toned down a bit, though, from what they used to do, or so I hear). What blew me away was the opening band, Scion. Never heard of them before. Can't wait to see them again.

The Crystal Method. You can't not dance. They're just hot.

Balkan Beat Box. It was absolutely the most stunning collection of freaks I've seen since the Oregon Country Fair. Sadly, we missed most of the March Fourth March ing Band, who opened. I'm deeply distressed that I won't make it to the Country Fair this year to see them.

Fischerspooner at the Bossanova, taken by a friend

Looking forward to:

The Wailers in August at the Oregon Zoo. I saw them a couple years ago, and it was a great time. For around $10, it's a hard deal to beat.

An Only in Portland Moment: Happiness Is...

2009-06-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

So on a recent Friday night, I met up with some friends at our favorite warehouse club.

They usually have some pretty kickin' DJs, but on that night, only one dance floor was open, and it was about as crowded as a Hanson concert (with about the same caliber of guys).

The $5 cover should have been an indication.

So we retreated to a back room and lounged on a couch I wouldn't want to see under black lights. As we're chatting, some hippie chick with dirty blonde braids or pigtails or dreds or something walks up to us.

Her: "Hey, you guys want some mushrooms?"

Us: (Blank stare)

Her: "Here, you should have some mushrooms. Everybody should have mushrooms because everybody should be happy! You guys want some mushrooms?"

Us: "Uhhhhhh, sure?"

She walks away to dispense more happiness, and then her companion approaches us and plops himself down next to my friend.

Him: "I'm working on a new pickup line. Mind if I try it out on you?"

Her: "Uhhhhhh, sure?

He pulls out his iPhone and brings up his script or whatever. Or maybe he has some sort of iPhone pickup line app. Anyway, I don't even remember what the line was, it was that bad.

We laugh, and let him pretend we're laughing with him.

He leans across the couch toward me.

Him: "You have really pretty eyes."

Then he pinches my cheek.

We left shortly after that, and took our happiness elsewhere.

Who the Hell Is This Chick and Why Should I Read Her?

2009-06-16T19:29:00.000-07:00

According to the Guys in Suits Who Research Stuff, I have exactly 3.2 seconds to grab your attention before you walk away and shun me forever. (Bit of a whore, aren’t you? Damn, this would be soooo much easier if we were in a bar and I could slip a roofie in your drink.)

Here’s some random crap about me:

I grew up between Portland and Vancouver and couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. I moved to Nashville after college. That’s right, Nashville. Where you can’t even buy wine at a grocery store. For the next seven years I couldn’t wait to get the hell back to Portland.

I am pagan. Wiccan, to be precise. But not in a cheesy Goth or hippie way. (Although I do have a little of both in me. My freak flag has many colors.)

I hate patchouli. But I love frankincense and opium (er, the incense) and I burn them all the freaking time.

I used to work at the Oregon Zoo. Not in a cool, elephant-back-scratcher or crap-shoveler capacity, but in a minimum-wage, a-monkey-could-do-your-job capacity. I met some really badass people there. I also met some real shitheads.

I shop at Torrid. I’d love to shop at alterna-trendy places like Buffalo Exchange, but those clothes don’t fit me. I’m a big girl.

This time last year, I had bright red hair. Now it’s black. I like black better. (It’s the color of my soul…)

My usual drink is a vodka cran. Well, vodka anything, really.

I took belly dancing classes for a while. I miss it.

I like seedy bars. I mean, really seedy bars. You won’t find me at the Doug Fir. Try The Matador instead.

My radio presets: KUFO, KGON, 94.7, Z100 and The Brew. I radio surf like a madwoman when I’m driving.

I marched in the Rose Parade all four years of high school. (That’s to establish my Portland street cred, by the way.)

I think that’s enough for now. I better stop before I start telling you about my seashell collection.

So you’ll call me? Wait, I haven’t given you my number yet!

I’ll be waiting…