I really like Portland weirdness. The fact that we have a doughnut shop where you can take free Swahili lessons makes me smile.
Once a year, over a thousand Portlanders and visitors flock to the Red Dress Party to raise money for charity.
The first time you see Extremo the Clown driving around in his art car is the Portland version of experiencing your first kiss.
Saturday night hundreds of Santas stormed CC Slaughters demanding Jingle Juice and midget porn. They got everything they wished for.
One or two naughty Santas almost ruined the night. The award for the dumbest Santa in the world goes to the moron who fired off a bottle rocket in the middle of the nightclub. He was promptly removed from the bar, but his legacy of stupidity lives on.
One Santa chick came up to me and said that her friends voted on the person in the bar most likely to buy her a drink. Of course they picked me. I'm like Jesus, only nicer. In this case, though, I told her I was not allowed to buy strangers drinks. She was shocked, but my story was true. I've been reprimanded by the bartenders at CC Slaughters for buying drinks for people I don't know, and I'm not allowed to do it anymore. I think the reason for this rule is two-fold. One, the bar doesn't want to encourage freeloaders. Two, they're watching out for me. I seem to have the word "gullible" printed on my forehead, and they know that I have a weakness for a good sob story. To clarify, I am allowed to buy you a drink if I like you or if you're cute or if you're my friend. Santa chick was not my friend, nor was she particularly cute. She also had bad breath, so if I had purchased a drink for her it would have been something minty. Something like peppermint schnapps or a mojito.