oregon

I left lots of things in oregon.

It's been a long time and my adventures spent in Oregon already seem like a wacked out epic dream. As a crew leader with the youth conservation corps, the Northwest Youth Corps, you give up every part of yourself to your work, to ensuring your crew is safe, happy and having fun and that things are happening the way they should, regardless of whatever crazy stretch of trail lay ahead or if it's fucking raining and you can't tie your shoes or you're sweating off 110 degrees in the high desert. Apart from the sheer physical exhaustion of working 8-10 hours a day, mentally challenging yourself to motivate a crew of 10 highschool kids to pull weeds for 2 weeks is enough to make anyone go bananas. The disconnect with culture, civilization and society is unsettling and needless to say, you lose contact with what you left behind and things change.

Regardless, the experience was amazing. My other crew leaders were family, cause without them you are nothing. I worked in some incredible areas of the country, saw some beautiful sunsets and sunrises and got paid to do it. At one point I didn't bath for 18 days and that was in a heat wave with black flies that found there way into EVERY orifice on top of Mount Hood. When all was said and done though, the feeling of getting into a cozy, yet odorous, sleeping bag at the end of a long day was awesome. It is odd how the little things that you look forward to in a day can truly make or break your attitude in an experience like this; the next tree I can chop down, the pb and j at lunch, my nalgene full of instant coffee, stretching next to newton creek after work, reading to the kids before bed, watching the sun set, the stars come out and the sky turn dark.

What I learned in Oregon:

pronounced Or-gun.

Mini busses aren't just for the special kids. Maybe

Iodine water can disinfect anything. Including your entire colon.

Good conversation is awesome.

Never underestimate little things. They make you happy, even in the most shitty conditions.

Overalls are not a good option when hiking. More like a sweat bag.

Using a chainsaw makes you feel like a badass, regardless of what you are doing.

I am a good cook: my dutch oven repertoire includes:

Bread pudding

Breakfast Rice Crispies

Coffee Cake

Lasagna

Cornbread

Tofu Stir Fry (awesome)

Only you truly have control over yourself and where you are going. Nobody can take that away from you and you can't be afraid to realize it.

Fake it til you make it.

I can grow a pretty full beard.

There can still be snow in August, and you can also fall on your ass in it.

Some kids are just horrible kids. You really can't do anything about it.

Mediocrity is bullshit. Make a difference.

I made/have some really awesome friends.

And that is what I learned.

> song of this summer >>> Wagon Wheel

free crap.

Childrens, it's been a while. And it probably will be a while seeing as I ship off to the land of typhoid ridden wagon trains and gay parades on sunday. Yes fools, the west coast.

HOWEVER, the past 10 days or so since I updated last I have experienced the wonders of the American landscape: free crap. Yes, despite rising oceans and out of contral inflation on the price of milk, there is still a plethora of free crap out there. Living in a city like Chicago I don't know how you could starve in terms of munchies and cultural classiness.


MY FAVORITE FREE CRAP

#1. Gourmet Supermarkets









Maybe I have stopped by a few times after working out, done one lap of 10 free samples, an extra of the pastries and left without buying anything...don't put it out if you don't want people to eat it fool! Boobsweat.

#2 . Cultural Establishments

Zoos or Museums. I don't pay to see smelly animals smeared in their own feces so nobody else should either. Unless it's a giraffe. giraffes are infallible. Could you imagine a giraffe on rollerskates? Having a conversation with a giraffe? What would it talk about? So much knowledge in that little pea head.

*note. The art institute in Chicago was free this past week after the Piano addition opening. It was damn classy but sorry kids, not free anymore. I might pay to get in if they start passing out cookies at the coat check.

speaking of cookies...

#3 Cookies!









At said trip in Chicago, my fine feathered friends, who will remain anonymous due to giraffe problems, following our check in at the Doubletree (holy balls 3.5 stars) the clerk gave us free and WARM cookies. Gooey cookies. I don't care if he spent the afternoon toasting them between his but cheeks, I chose not to think about it. They were damn good and enabled me to smear chocolate, which for all someone else knows could've been poo, all over the elevator buttons.


Additionally, if you're lucky they give out free cookies at the pastry counter at Kroger. Only on good days though. I think it has something to do with the tides and ovulation cycle of the baker. Keep an eye peeled on a full moon!

#4 Garbage Furniture

The ultimate in affordable home decoration, a broken vacuum or moldy couch on the side of the road scream TAKE ME TAKE ME TAKE ME!!! The possibilities are endless especially if you have a car with a badonkadonk. Throw your inhibitions to the wind and take a dumpster dive once in a while. You'll thank me when that love interest compliments you on good taste.

BEST FIND: A discarded sunglass rack behind CVS. Also 2 couches a hat rack and a tv that made for a perfect front yard living room in the yard of an unsuspecting friend.

And garbage picking my friends is not a new thing...you'll be taking part in a valuable part of history! >http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gleaning and it's French which means it has to be classy. Whatever.

In conclusion, a warm cookie can provide hours of excitement, confusion and possible disgust. And garbage isn't always dirty but can get you laid.

The end.

i put mustard in my bed.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/73360/saturday-night-live-lawrence-welk

This is amazing. Kudos to Cowper, who is always on my wavelength.

...going to a perrrty....

penguin.

Friends, I have a confession. While at times I appear to look virtually homeless by appearance, I do have an affinity for clothes. I can appreciate a well dressed person, as I am known for complimenting to excess while inebriated. I would classify my style as granola muncher yet classy, vagabond yet adventuresome and European but not cheap. No offense to you Euros, but H & M has a serious lack of quality sometimes.



That is why Penguin is awesome. Classy, subtle, fun, with crazy tuxedo birds. Unfortunately, I could drive to and from Chicago with the amount I would spend on a shirt. And hell any company that can sell a shirt called "THE EARL" for over the price of a pair of jorts and a nascar cutoff has to be doing something right. Hot damn.



But until I have a means to not look deranged and a free 70 bucks....Penguin, I'll be seeing you...





crazy birds.

let's poop the lawn.

I have a brilliant idea. Let's all shit in a giant pile, mix it with dead plants and other yard refuse and spread it all over our flower beds and yard. Well friends, too bad that idea was already taken, and that idea is called mulch.















MULCH my friends, or as I will now refer to it as yard shit, is a tell-tale sign of the current state of decadence within our suburban American hell. Cow manure. Organic matter. Whatever you call it, you're still moving shit around.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mulch - Wikipedia hits it right on the head. Ever wonder why it smells funky when they're "mulching"? Because there is poop in it. Fools. Poop everywhere. While the nitrogenous wastes provide multitudes of nutrients for a garden, the notion of piling a huge steaming mountain of ass expelled crap on my driveway is odd. But nonetheless, I shoveled seven yards of it yesterday. My mother was only too anxious to spread it out...I don't think she knew about the poo.



Does anyone else think it's odd that we can literally pile shit on our driveway but it is socially unacceptable to walk around with no pants on? Well, I do.

peeps.

Peeps. Soft, sugary, multi-colored, eastery or just plain digusting.

Peeps are a major contention point in many of my adult friendships. While I look fondly back on microwave jousting in the 8th grade, there are plenty that despise their marshmallowy goodness.

Why? Sandy texture? Dis-illusioned vegetarian? (they're marshmallows dumbass) Just plain grumpiness? Irritable bowel syndrome? Penguins?

Who knows...but peeps, you can butter my bread anyday.

But not ones like kimbo slice liked that were all hard and had been left out for weeks. That's disgusting.

Peeps--->http://www.marshmallowpeeps.com/

What kind of candy website has music. This just screams f$%#ing amazing. And look at all the wonderful recipes you can find! Peeps stir fry! :) how delightfully foul.

Kids, you decide.

Crazy guns.

To add to my repertoire of weird shit, a piling resume that includes experience driving forklifts, shoveling horse shit, resuscitating babies and getting tips in an empty wine jug for my legs, today I took a class for my C.P.L. certification. For you fools that are uneducated in the ways of firearm liberties, C.P.L. stands for Concealed Pistol License.

While many may ask, Pez, why would you want to suffer through six hours of this? or even, Pez, who the hell would trust you with a deadly weapon? or simply, Pez, you are a retard.

While I am not necessarily a huge gun fanatic and to be honest guns scare me, I did this with another wonderful experience in mind, partly as bonding time with my father. Much like how I had rationalized missing the awards ceremony at my biggest highschool regatta to attend a stranger's prom because they would probably have good cake. They didn't even end up having cake, they had a stupid ass cupcake tree with inedible flowers. LIES!

However, the gun class did not have such lame sauce prospects as the mistake prom. I did get to see some crazy hair flashbacks, once again experience legal smoking within a building, shoot a pistol (for the second time, badass i know) AND I got two pieces of pizza. So all in all, six hours were not necessarily wasted.

This class has inspired me to rehearse intimidation tactics in possibly dangerous confrontations:

"Can I help you, boobsweat?"

"STOP RIGHT THERE ASSCLOWN."

"I went to crazy school. Not little bitch school. Bitch."

All in all, cake, as enticing as this delectable dessert may seem, is not an excuse for a crappy party. The end.