Saturday, October 22, 2011

HEY! I'M WALKIN' HERE!!!

Earlier this week a car rolled into me while I was crossing the street, since then my inner Bronxite has broken out of its shackles and there is no turning back.  Today I had my own version of a Midnight Cowboy scene while heading home from Fred Meyer's.

There isn't a traffic light where NW 20th Place meets NW Everett Street, but there is a pedestrian crossing light.~  The genius with a disabled parking permit hanging from their rear view mirror* tried to turn onto Everett without stopping.  I mucked things up, because I was in the intersection.

I still had three or four seconds left even though the pedestrian crossing light was flashing.^  So, when you didn't stop before pulling onto Everett and honked your horn while pointing to the pedestrian crossing light - I felt justified in doing the glare/finger shaking combo while yelling at YOU to stop.

Huh.  On the other hand, I feel like I should thank you and the woman who hit me on Tuesday for fulling introducing me to the world of pedestrian road rage.



~There is a light for the traffic driving east on NW Everett, but not for the traffic turning onto to Everett from NW 20th Place.  I don't get it either, but I'm assuming that it's a cost saving measure that assumed the traffic on 20th Place would come to a complete before turning onto Everett.

*I get it.  You can't be bothered to remove your disabled parking placard from your rear view mirror even when you're driving.  (You think you're too busy and important.  After all, how dare a pedestrian cross the street when you want to drive through a stop sign without stopping, right?)  Well, as someone who's parents have had disabled parking permits for the better part of two decades - I know that you're supposed to remove the placard from your rear view mirror when driving your vehicle.  In case you missed it while applying for the placard, I'd like to redirect your attention to the DMV Instructions and Regulations for Disabled Person Parking Permit.  Please read the Parking Regulations section.  Actually, you don't even have to read the entire section.  Just read the last sentence of the first paragraph.  Go ahead.  I'll wait.

^If you've been lucky enough to walk anywhere with me, you'd know that three or four seconds is all I need to cross the street.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Why Women Shouldn’t Drive

Or, more specifically:  Why the woman who rolled her car into me while I was crossing the street shouldn’t drive.

Well, the first reason that comes to mind is –YOU ROLLED YOUR CAR INTO ME WHILE I WAS CROSSING THE STREET!

Listen, I get it.  Driving in The Pearl can be a pain in the tookus, but there’s no reason for blocking the box.  You made the conscious decision sit in the center of the intersection, so you could make that light.  You still couldn’t move when I got the walk signal, so I walked in front of your car.  Even though I was over 75 percent of the way across the street, I still hadn’t cleared your bumper,* and the cars in front of you started to move, so you rolled into me.

It was a nice day.  I had my bright orange coat over my right arm and a cream sweater on.  I’ve been told that my sweater bunnies are hard to miss given their size and when coupled with the rest of me – I am hardly a wisp of a woman.  When I yelled out, “HEY!” and craned my neck to glare at you, you didn’t appear to be talking on your cell phone, texting, or otherwise distracted. 

It was 3:40 p.m. on a warm, sunny Tuesday, so I have one important question to ask.  Why didn’t you see me? 

I’m sure you have an answer but I really don’t want to hear it, because there’s no excuse for not paying attention while driving a boat of a car.  A lot of things could have happened.  What if I hadn’t been from sturdy breeding stock?  What if I had an old powderpuff football injury?  What if I had brittle bone disease?  You could have seriously hurt someone!

Luckily, I wasn’t hurt.  But, given the height of your bumper, I could feel your car push my knee out of place.  Let’s just say that I felt shocked and violated.  And, then when you mouthed, “I’m sorry,” while continuing to roll into me^ – anger overtook my other emotions.

I couldn’t tell if I was more with you or with myself for not throwing my belongings to the ground, slamming my fists on the hood of your car and yelling, “I’M WALKING HERE!”  Because, I can only hope that I never ever run into a situation like this again.



*Seriously, woman, where did you learn to drive?  Because, your car was positioned like you were trying to start your own third lane on NW Glisan St.

^Since you obviously seem unaware of your surroundings, I can’t be the first one to say this – but, if I am then it’s time that you know – you’re a horrible driver.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Reason 396: Why I hate Oregon

The damned Oregon DMV.

Yes, I have an out of state license.  No, I’m not going to tell you how long it’s taken me to get around to replacing it. 

I don’t have a car, so I didn’t have to deal with registering a car in a new state or tags expiring.   Even though I don’t own a car, I have rented one and used ZipCar since moving to Oregon.  But, other than that, my license has primarily been used to buy booze over the last two and a half years.

Seriously, I’m in no rush to switch over to an Oregon license.*  Since I know that it’s something I’ll need to do, I’ve been doing research here and looking through the Oregon DMV’s convoluted website there.  I’m not the type of person to put things off until the very last minute and then have a full blow meltdown when it doesn’t go my way.  I slowly chip away at projects.^

After I struck up a conversation with a New York State transplant who told me he had to take a behind the wheel test before receiving his Oregon license – I’ve been harboring resentment for the entire process.+  Couple that with the fact that I wasn’t able to find anything on the Oregon DMV website that clearly identifies requirements for swapping my New Hampshire license for an Oregon one.

Sometimes I miss the simple ways of New Hampshire – granite outcroppings along the highway, nor'easters that would extend for days, icicles the size of my leg, doing whatever I wanted and then screaming “Live free or die,” and foliage the colors of fire.  So, pretty much like Vermont, only upside down.  But, what New Hampshire totally has over Oregon is that New Hampshire took my money and Oregon license and giving me a New Hampshire license in return.

It was so simple and so, so easy.

Yesterday, a coworker went to the DMV to renew her license and was kind enough to find out that I have to retest to switch out my valid out-of-state license for an Oregon license.  After talking my youngest sister into letting me borrow her car for the behind the wheel test, I decided to do it while I’m in small town Oregon for my mother’s birthday.  So, I call up the McMinnvillle DMV and upset either Patty or Selma Bouvier.  After being told the difference between an out-of-state license and an out-of-state ID, I find out that since I have a valid out-of state license I need to take the written test and not the behind the wheel test.**

So, now I just need a cute hair day to coincide with a day I’m motivated to go to the DMV. ^^



*1) My New Hampshire license doesn’t expire until next June, 2) For my particular case, I think it’d be a waste of money to make the switch too soon, and 3) Having an out of state license not only makes me feel special, but it also subconsciously protects me from facing the fact that I’m living in Oregon – again.

^Like Chinese water torture or herpes.

+Make retesting number four on the list of reasons why I’m not super motivated to embrace residency in Oregon.

**Pain.  In.  My.  Ass.

^^Since I’m complaining about the Oregon DMV, why don’t they get on Arizona’s bandwagon and issue licenses that expire when you turn 65-years-old?++  Sure, they need to go in for a photo day every so often, but I’d be more than okay with that!

Friday, October 7, 2011

For a girl … I’m doing okay!

It’s not that I’m a girl that makes it so surprising that this week I’m ranked number one in my company’s college football pool.  It’s more the fact that out of the 56 people in this year’s pool, it’s possible that I’m the most sportastically* challenged^ person participating.

What can I say?  The allure of a free airline ticket coupled with a $0 entry fee was too much for my impulse control.+  So, I looked at the preseason USA Today Coaches Poll, read all about the BCS selection procedures, researched the coaches, and blah, blah, blah.

Seriously, if I had made my selections based on school colors – it would have been a lot easier…



*Yes, “sportasticlly” is NOW a word.

^Okay, I’m not actually challenged.  It’s that I don’t care.

Take, for example, the conversation that I’ve had too many times with coworkers and visitors (usually on days when my company is “College Football Casual” or “Collegiate Casual” (yes, that’s a thing my company does a couple of times a year) and I’m wearing a black t-shirt over an old Halloween t-shirt – complete with black cat – that I got on clearance from Old Navy last year):

Them:  Your Beavers are playing this weekend.

Me:  They are?

Yes, I worked for OSU’s Sports Video Department for three years in college.  I’d chitchat with jocks in class and around the sports arena – and, yes Halley, I’d judge them for wearing sweatpants to class

+Anyone who’s seen me around baked goods (even vegan baked goods) should know that I have very little impulse control.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Reason 456 Why I Hate Portland

As a native Oregonian, I have a love hate relationship with the entire state.  I keep trying to get out, but so far I also keep coming back. 

Regardless of where I go (Minnesota, Illinois, New Hampshire, etc.), I’m usually the “crazy liberal chick.”  I recycle.  I avoid Wal-Mart like the plague.  I’ve been disillusioned with both the Democrat and Republican parties,* so I’m a registered independent.  I was in New Hampshire for the 2008 primary and was able to vote in the First-in-the-Nation Presidential Primary,+ and I was able to vote for Bill Richardson.#  However, step into the bike riding, part-time working, sandals with sock wearing hipster mecca that is Portland, Ore., I might as well be Ann Coulter.

It’s hard to say that I agree with the Occupy Wall Street movement, since as of yet it doesn’t have a well defined definition.  Participants have each brought their own purpose to march – social awareness, discontent with financial and/or political systems, or just an enthusiasm for demonstration.  Honestly, the potpourri of causes reminds me a little of PCU – protesting just to protest. 

But, I have to ask – for as much as Occupy Wall Street’s website talks about the American Dream or Adbusters states that the movement began in America – why does everything have its roots in the great white north?  Adbusters put out the call to occupy Wall Street on July 13, 2011.  For those of you who don’t know, Adbusters is a not-for-profit based in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. 

Occupy Portland’s website is crying foul over a “False Press Release,” that they’ve traced back to Vannet Technology in Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada.  It may have been over looked that that this press release could be the real deal.  Sure, it might be a great fake, but to me it sounds it was written by the same people who create the website content.  Who else talks about where “Saturday Market touches the river”?  And, I’d like to point out that Vannet Technology offers a free online fax service.  For a group who has FaceBook, Wikipedia, and an internet committee, I think it’d be ridiculous to imagine a member of this group to walk down to the nearest FedEx Kinko’s and pay to fax a press release.  Plus, using a free service that can be traced to another country does provide a comforting blanket of deniability.  So, we’re not even going to get into whether Occupy Portland has a permit to march today (as best I can tell from their message forum – they don’t) or if the other claims in the press release have any tidbits of truth to them.

Maybe I’d be more involved with the local movement if: I was one of those people who only worked part-time at a coffee house, because fulltime work interfered with my busy social schedule.  Or, if I made a conscious decision not to vote, but spend the rest of the year complaining about the people who were elected.  (This is a thing.  One of my ex-roommates during the 2004 general election did this.) 

But, I’m not. 

If their dissatisfaction with the current government system, heath care, financial industry, or whatever is so substantial – they should change it.  Yes, a protest is a great way to go, but get the flipping permit.  Y’all realize that you’re going to put a substantial strain on the Portland Police Department’s resources, right?  The organizers COULD work with PPD to make the protest a safe place for the children and families that it’s calling upon to show up today.

But, Occupy Portland is not.

So, I will quote to Occupy Portland from The Big Lebowski, “My advice is to do what your parents did; get a job, sir.…” 


*It started off with 18-year-old me not knowing the difference between the two.  My mother was a Democrat and my father a Republican.  The only reason either had for their party selection was because that was also their parents’ party.  My parents both liked voting in the primaries, but they were both equally opportunity voters when it came to general elections.  Take, for example, my father.  He talked buckets full of smack about President Clinton during his first term, but then my father voted to reelect Clinton in 1996. 

In short, I knew I wanted to vote in the 2000 general election, but in my mind the Democrat and Republican parties were pretty much the same thing and nearly interchangeable.  To an extent, I still feel that way.  I believe that both parties are too caught up in the spectacle that has become “entertainment politics” (see: Sarah Palin or any political impasse over the last decade or even the past year (see: the 2011 federal government shutdown or the fiasco in Wisconsin this spring that had Democrats fleeing the state) to actually work together and come to mutually beneficial resolutions.

My problem with the Democrat and Republican parties has its roots in the 2004 election cycle.  I had just moved back to Oregon and needed to reregister to vote.  While walking home from the bus I crossed paths with someone doing voter registration at Last Thursday, so I registered to vote and mark the box to be an independent/unaffiliated/not a member of a party, and hand it back to the nice lady.  Magically, I was added to the Democrat mailing list and phone tree.

Since Oregon allows people to vote by mail, I had my ballot all set to be mailed off a few weeks before the election deadline when there was a knock on my door.  There was a young clean cut guy going door to door collecting ballots and offering “to be drop it off for you.”  Weird, right? 

Well, a few hours before the polls officially closed the doors on the allegations of election and voter fraud, I received a frantic voicemail from the local Democrat phone bank indicating that my ballot had never been received.  Even weirder, right?

+As a registered Democrat for the whole five minutes it took to vote.  Of course, I reregistered as unaffiliated while walking out of the room.

#Bill Richardson is still the first and only presidential candidate that I have been really excited about.