Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Growing up is contagious.

For some 24 seems old, for others, for me, 24 seems young, but it also feels a bit like a transitional time between young and old. It's sort of creeping me out.

My younger sister just got married and will be having a baby, her husband is great and they will undoubtedly have an adorable baby, probably a little ginger. I could probably cover an entire wall with save-the-dates and invitations and engagement photos, though. It's not just my sister, it's a lot of my friends, too. Many of them are doing such grown up activities as marrying and birthing babies and buying houses.

My rational side is adamant about 24 being young and avoiding grown up activities, after all, I still drink 'til I puke sometimes (always by accident). But my uterus was aflutter when I felt little baby J kicking from inside my sister's rotund belly. No, I'm not gonna have a baby, the rational side can totally take my uterus in a fight. One of my new sisters-in-law showed off the engagement ring she'd want were some handsome gent to propose to her and in the secret of my own home a week later, I perused the Tiffany's website and ooh-ed and ah-ed over the diamond engagement rings. My rational side can also beat my romantic side in a fight.

There's one thing I might have a hard time fighting and that is making a comfortable home, sure I hate cleaning and I put it off until a haz-mat suit might be necessary, but I can't help but cruise Craigslist for reasonably priced furniture and I am just dreaming of the day when I stumble upon a butcher block floating island for my counter-space-challenged kitchen. Even though there is a part of me aching to get out of this small town, I have certain things keeping me here, including an absolute love of this stupid town, but still, what if I move? What if I do it - go to law school - then I have to deal with getting rid of all this STUFF.

Who should win this battle? The rational minimalist? The cozy-seeking nester? I don't know. Life would be made a lot easier if Mr. CP would move back and UAS would open a law school. Can't everything come to me?

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Juneau should be renamed Flaketown

Remember when I was going nuts because Miss J gave me notice that she was moving out? Then I was relieved when Mr. L said he'd move in. But then Mr. L decided after less than a full month to move in with his girlfriend (who is offering cheaper rent and sex). Then I was again relieved when a friend said she could move in in October.

Just kidding! I just found out today that my future roommate plans have fallen through, so I am again faced with the tough job of finding someone who is looking for a roommate, isn't insane (or anal) and who has no pets. It's all getting to be so frustrating.

I can manage for the next few months if I budget well and I know that Miss D said she'd be interested in moving in during session, so just when I'll probably be out of a job, I'll have someone to help cover the rent. Lucky me.

Getting angry or frustrated doesn't make any of it better, getting upset with friends doesn't help either. I'm going to do what I always do and forgive and forget, just let it all roll off my back - ducky style. You know, how water rolls off a duck's feathers. I am pretty sure that is what that phrase comes from.

In any case, I am not going to stress on finding a roommate right now, I am just going to live frugally and enjoy the freedom of living completely alone until a roommate comes to me.

I don't know what the deal is, even I am becoming flaky. Juneau, what are you putting in the water?

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Da Bears

Bear sightings have been few and far between this summer but perhaps quantity is less important than quality.

If the quality of a bear siting is determined by how close it is and how much it makes you shake, than I've had some quality sightings this summer, having nearly walked right into one, and coming almost as close to another.

After spending the morning in the office I stopped by the hippie grocery store on the way home. I picked out a bunch of things and once I had purchased the items I stuffed them into my purse. Except it got full so I carried another bag. It was a paper bag. And I live in a rain forest.

I was nearly home when I saw a medium sized black bear climb into the dumpster for the building I was passing. It managed to bend the lid up and squeeze in, head first, then it rummaged around, I considered running past while it was inside, but it seemed risky. Instead I waited and watched the bear climb back out with something in its mouth. Then I watched as the bear settled next to someone's car and gnawed on trash for a bit.

I advised a man to the location of the bear and he suggested I go around. I had been contemplating this possibility and eventually gave in, when the bear showed no sign of losing interest in the slice of bread it was devouring.

As I was walking down a windy side street, I suddenly felt the bag tear and oats started spilling out onto the pavement. Precious organic oats. For precious oatmeal cookies. I had to hug the bag the rest of the way home as I contemplated how representative a moment like this is of my life.

Walking. In the rain. Organic groceries. Falling. Traffic detour due to black bear. Home safe. finding humor in it all.

I tried to be the black bear paparazzi while juggling the groceries and my blackberry, then again once I had put the groceries away. It's nearly impossible to take a good photo with full hands and while shaking from nerves.

I'll mention again that bears are deceptively cute. You just want to hug the little bastards. Then they claw your face off.

Monday, September 21, 2009

The Kitten Flu, Love, and Other Diseases

I'm sitting in darling Miss NB's cozy little apartment with the darling kitty, Yuki. Yuki has got a cold. I am hoping that this little virus will not jump from kitten to human, but how cute does the kitten flu sound? So cute. Way better than swine flu. "Oh, you know, I got the kitten flu, 'cause I was just surrounded in cute fuzzy kittens, not it's not deadly, thankfully." Poor little Yuki though, she can't blow her nose into a tissue or something to relieve her congestion.

This weekend has been all about: Love.

My younger sister just got married and as worried as I may have been, I absolutely adore the entire family she has married into. They are the sweetest family ever. Despite a full septic tank that sometimes provided a raw sewage smell, despite the rain falling until 30 minutes after the wedding was meant to start (we started an hour late) the wedding was sunny and beautiful. Sister jumped the gun with her 'I will' but only because she really is excited to spend the rest of her life with her new husband. Lucky the dog, who is 91 years old in dog time, decided to pee during the lighting of the unity candle, but over all the ceremony was perfect.

The reception was lovely too, with plenty of beer and wine to go around, champagne for toasting, a delicious dinner prepared by the families and lots of dancing. Oh, and I gave a toast. My short but sweet toast which probably infringes on some Disney copyrights was a hit and my counterpart, the very handsome best man, had a long winded but very heartfelt speech (about 10 times as long as mine). Aside from some uninvited guests: Sister's former hippie roommate, a guy who went to my college for one year and his friend; and some missing folks: friends from high school who had been threatened with revoked friendship should they not attend, it was a great group.

It was great to see my family, especially my little sisters, I got to feel my little nephew kick, and even though there was never a resolution to the car theft, my parents and I did a great job pretending absolutely nothing was wrong. And you know, I can just put it out of my mind.

So, if you were wondering what fell into the category "other" it might be shopoholism. Or my love for a Michael Kors black mini dress with sequins. Or a freakish curiosity to know what it feels like to have something living inside you (baby envy?) but not any time soon. Or a case of melancholy, missing the person that I still adore.

Or maybe it is straight up alcoholism because I drank quite a bit of white wine and champagne and apparently got tired before the party even ended - finding my way to Bro-in-law's parents' bed and falling asleep. I got kicked out, of course, and was then led to a couch where I slept through a ton of noise, apparently.

Now I have less than 12 hours left in Portland - I suppose I should go enjoy it!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

It's Like Rai-i-ain...

Personally, I live in a rainforest. The big, wet, wild Tongass National Forest. It is a temperate rainforest so there are no three-toed sloths or giant man-eating plants, no monkeys throwing fruit or feces. It's kind of like a normal forest but extra wet. Portland weather is NOTHING to Juneau weather.

Still, on my sister's big day* there is a 40% chance of rain. You wouldn't think it ominous except that the Thursday and Friday show temperatures in the mid 70's to mid 80's, partly cloudy. Sunday too. Only Saturday calls for showers.

Two reasons why this is significant:

1. The wedding is outdoors. On grass. How fun will it be for us to get stuck in muddy grass on our way to the alter? And hopefully her white dress doesn't have a long train. I just hope they have tents, just in case.

2. Alanis Morisette says rain on your wedding day is: ironic. Proving, of course, that most people misuse the word ironic. In any case, if Alanis Morisette thinks that rain on your wedding day is sucky enough to sing a song about, it must suck.

As the maid of honor, I've prepared a speech. It's, um, probably a copyright issue with Disney and possibly only funny to people with a similar sense of humor to my own - fine for my family, I hope. Unless I've used big words and everyone just calls me pretentious. Of the people I've shared the speech with (two) they have just about 6 or 7 degrees between the two of them. Maybe I chose the wrong test audience. I got decent reviews.

*This is my sister's big day because she has a vagina. The big day for someone with a penis is losing his virginity or something.


It was discussed that a lot of people in this town are kind of flaky, it was suggested that it's because there are so many creative minds and people are constantly developing new and exciting ideas and that these creative types are more likely to let themselves get carried away, leaving plans behind them. It might also be that a lot of people smoke a lot of pot. But since I've been getting kind of flaky sometimes, I think it is more likely that we're all creative types, dreamers.

I'm not generally a flaky person, despite being a dreamer and creative mind - that could actually be a problem. To how many things have I committed myself?

Job #1
Job #2
Comics Connection
Creating a weekly webcomic
Having a life
Keeping in touch with friends and family
Cleaning my kitchen - someday

And now this:

I have a brain child and I am going to bring it to term, give birth to it, and raise it to adulthood. I will not abort this brain child (but I am pro-choice!), nor will I put it up for adoption, neglect it during it's formative stages, or treat it like a red headed stepchild (I am one of those). I'm really excited and am officially the founder of Alt Art Juneau - an alternative art fair that will coincide with the First Friday Gallery Walk.

There is a lot of work to do on this to do it right, that includes fancy things like exploration committees and panels and publicity committees and lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

I'm going to do this, I am going to succeed, and I am determined that this will be an awesome event for artists who creat comics, tattoos, street art, etc.

P.S. I might be a fucking hipster.

Monday, September 14, 2009

A friend of mine from high school and I declared that we would definitely get out of our home town or else we'd end up dead. We had something like 11 classmates die during our years in high school and the year just before or just after. Turns out we probably wouldn't end up dead. We'd end up Republican. Maybe also poor at spelling. And we might also have become the type of white girls to say things like "true dat" with out a speck of irony.

Sunday, September 13, 2009


So, anticipation can be... unpleasant. There is anticipation of good things and then there is anticipation of bad things. This uneasy feeling definitely falls int he latter category.

I just feel myself getting behind and as the to-do-list grows, my time remains finite. It's frustrating. I made a list, hand-written, the other day hoping to lay it out and prioritize, but I don't feel any better yet.

This weekend I did pretty much nothing. I stayed in on Friday night to paint. Then I painted over the entire thing. I need to make a painting for my sister and her fiancee, since I can't give them the car as I had hoped to do. I think that my need for inspiration is making inspiration hide in some inconspicuous corner under a pile of pressing to-do-list items and a desire to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Last night I worked and it was a quiet night, made fun by the few people who did come to the bar. I would say that over half the groups who came in offered to buy or did buy me a drink or more. Maybe I looked like I needed it. It didn't help me to be more productive today, as I had hoped. The most productive thing I did all day is a tie between showering and heating up canned, condensed soup. Wow, hygiene and feeding myself. I'm a winner.

Meanwhile, the to-do-list gathers dust and my fear of being overwhelmed is, well, overwhelming. I think that might be counter-productive.

Luckily, little things here and there make bright patches in my days.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

What a waste!

Today I:

Showered, straightened my hair, did my makeup, picked out a cute outfit fit for going out and being seen.

I went to the bank.

I went to the senate office.

Then I went home.

I'm still at home.

What a waste.

In good news, I have found a new future roommate to replace Mr. L. He's moving in with his girlfriend where the rent is cheaper and he'll be getting sex. My friend Miss N announced on facebook that she needed a place to live within 24 hours of me announcing I needed a new roommate.

I think it's going to work out well. We're both laidback, fun twenty-somethings with a hipster vibe and a lot of creativity. I foresee art projects and music and gatherings of friends.

Right now I'm going to work on my comic, though I think I might change the day that I update. Maybe to Mondays, like all the other one day a week comics. Sure, I might get lost in the shuffle, but maybe I won't.

Ten Reasons I Won't Get Married

10. I just don't look that good in white. Or even cream. 'Cause let's face it, I won't be wearing white.

9. What if I'm wrong? Marriage is the first step to divorce, after all. And divorce, that's a spendy affair.

8. Of a biological father and a stepdad, with neither of whom I have a close relationship, who would I choose to walk me down the aisle?

7. I've had to wear bridesmaid's dresses - I don't want to do that to my friends.

6. I don't believe in God anyway, why do I need to have some religious leader marry me and the person I love?

5. Nobody wants to sit through the ceremony anyway, even if I had the most clever vows, people would still be fidgeting and waiting for the open bar.

4. My mom and dad got divorced, my grandparents got divorced, and not everyone is even all that happy in their new situation - it might be hereditary.

3. Weddings are expensive, I am pretty sure it isn't necessary to spend thousands of dollars to declare one's love. I can think of three little words that do it quite efficiently.

2. And do I really want to support the diamond industry? What a scam!

1. Marriage is a stupid institution which discriminates not based on love, but on matters like WHO someone loves. Why should I support that?

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

In My Bestselling Tell All Novel

Someday I'm going to write stupid pop lit novels like Chelsea Handler. I think I'm slightly less drunk and slightly less promiscuous, but what I lack in those areas my family makes up for.

Oh yes, the saga continues. Via e-mail.

My mom told me that my sister is trying to work things out with HER car, but that's going to prove to be bad news. My sister is having a baby and her current job is as a barista. Having that car would include continuing to pay if off - my parents are making her refinance in her name - and since my sister is (a) poor, (b) going to be poorer and (c) has terrible credit this is going to be costly. And/or they are requiring that she insure the car in her name under her own plan which will apparently cost $250 a month since my sister is (a) under the age of 25, (b) a driver with at least two accidents on her record, and (c) a driver with a DUII on her record.

My parents are helping to pay for the wedding, but then saying "FUCK YOU" to their second oldest daughter and almost ensuring that my sister will end up getting behind sooner or later. At no loss of money to them and at a complete gain in security for my sister, this car could be hers. But my mom, who called me petty for bringing up the issue of MY liability should my younger sister get in a wreck driving a car under my name, then preceded to list all of the things she should have charged me for.

Thanks, mom, I hope the value of the car was enough to make up for you having to raise me.

But, you know, it's ok. I have wonderful friends.

Last night there was a good show of good friends who made sure that I always had a drink in my hand and made sure the night was lively. We had drinks and appetizers at the Hangar and later Miss A, Mr. C and I went to Troxel's for some late night grub and then they dropped me back at the Alaskan where I had another drink. And then Miss K and I hit up the Rendezvous for one last shot before I headed back up the hill to sleep it all off.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

The Burden of Being Born

Happy motha' effin' birthday to me.

Today is my actual birthday, in which I turn 24 years old.

I have had the pleasure of receiving a billion facebook messages, countless text messages, and some friendly phone calls.

I received a print from Mr. CP and a book - received in the mail a few days early. And the owners of Choco's gave me a cocktail ring I had been admiring.

This evening I'll be with friends having drinks and appetizers.

But just now I had a conversation with my mom which turned ugly. I told my mom that I was giving my car to my sister for her wedding present and I mentioned that my other sister who just turned 16 had said she was driving it, so I was questioning that since I already promised it to my other sister... Logical stuff, you know. Then I told my mom it would be kind of a problem if they gave away a car I had already given away and my mom said, "Well, we already did."

My parents gave away MY FUCKING CAR.

Without my permission. Without even mentioning it to me. So now the one thing I could do for my sister's wedding, for my sister who is having a baby, they've taken it away. And my mom didn't want to have the discussion with me, but I forced it, and she basically started talking about how she had helped me pay my bills when I was in college.

Great. So it turns out that the basic duties of being a supportive parent of a kid in college don't come for free. Or cheap. I've been such a burden that it warrants taking my car and giving it away to my younger sister.

I'm pretty possed right now. I wish I hadn't even talked to my mom at all today. I wish I didn't have to see my parents at all at my sister's wedding.

I wish none of this were happening and I wish my family weren't so fucked up.

Hopefully drinks and cake will make this all better.

Sunday, September 6, 2009


Saturday night included yet another excuse to dress up. General Juneau attire includes the ugly brown neoprene boots with jeans and, most likely, an Alaskan Brewing sweatshirt or some sort of performance fleece. Or a rain jacket. But Saturday night Mrs. D & Mr. M had their 4th anniversary party and as classy people, they requested that everyone dress to the nines.

First I went to dinner with Miss M and Miss C at the Hangar where we were lucky enough to be given a free appetizer from some of the staff - thanks, Ladies! We had some drinks and shared appetizers and had a generally lovely (and filling) evening. We then went to the super secret location for the invite only Anniversary party and drank cocktails with people dressed in cocktail dresses, suits, evening gowns, etc.

Then we went to the Viking. Miss M had said she thought this was the last weekend Deering and Down would be playing and I do love to support those two. Usually the Viking is the last place I would ever head (though somehow it had ranked above the Lucky Lady before) but for the sake of the music, I went. Now, the problem I have with the viking, mainly, is that I can't recall a time I've been that I haven't been hit on and even groped. This night was no different, including a thoroughly uncalled for ass slap, another grope in passing, and one old sketchy guy who had been watching us dance did the "accidental" ass graze. He also tried to tell me later that he liked my dancing. Or something. Gross. Around 2, after maybe an hour and a half there, total, we went to find Miss C, who was not where I had anticipated. We ended up at the Alaskan, which is where I figured out that gin makes me sassy.

First thing, former flame was accusing me of something in a rather belligerent manner (this isn't a first) and I stood up for myself and told him that I didn't want to argue with him and then went back to spend time with my girlfriends. I also pointed out at one point in the night that I didn't like his "tone" just like my mom used to say. But the real sassiness came out when some dumb hick bummed a cigarette from Mr. P and then proceeded to make fun of his hair. I don't know about you, but I am pretty sure that you don't disrespect someone who has just done you a favor. I called it, though. He was a dumb hick and even a little tipsy I have enough wit to run circles around guys like this. I managed to make mad fun of him right there until he stumbled off the curb to go to (most likely) the Viking or the Imperial, or to go shoot something.

Then Miss N and I headed to an after party, where we stayed only briefly because we (a) weren't drunk enough and (b) weren't any good at speaking Spanish.

Overall it was an interesting night and I, admittedly, looked damn good. I guess I can't blame the grabby guys. Wait. Yes I can. Pervs.

And today was craft brunch! I made some savory scone egg sandwiches, which were delish. I think the best recipe I discovered was one that was a basic scone recipe with pointers on changes to make when adding additional ingredients. I like the versatility of it and, when I added garlic and herbs de provence, the scones turned out great. I think it might be best for someone with a sense of what they are doing, since it is a little more open ended than many baking recipes, but I am happy with it. Here it is.

Now I am working at the bar and I've just been informed by one of the owners of the Rendezvous that the male strippers are staying upstairs in the hotel and that, well, I may have strippers in the bar again. Hopefully this time all the clothing will stay on.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Diving Lessons

I remember when I was younger I heard talk of "dives" or "dive bars" and I was confused and curious. What is a "dive?"

Since turning 21, or even during the month before the birthday when friends and I managed to crash a truck stop bar on I-5 outside of Eugene, Oregon, I have gained vast amounts of experience with so called dives, even tending bar at a dive or two.

Still, even in terms of dives, I had my standards, damn it. Until yesterday.

Girls' night started out as classy as can be. We all primped and had dinner at the Gold Room at the Baranof where we were certainly a bit uncouth, but our server was happy to tolerate our antics, especially when those antics included trying to touch our elbows together behind our backs. It's along the same lines as that creepy kid in middle and high school who used to run his finger up unsuspecting girls' spines to get that chest out reaction. In any case, after a delightful dinner we went to the Breakwater which is now Troxel's. The Breakwater was known for being a dive. I had never been. Not only is it all they way over by the high school, it just had that reputation of being sort of sketchy. But with the new ownership, the place has risen above. It's got all the nautical kitsch you could ever want, with a raised platform gated off with thick rope, but without the sketchiness. Deering and Down played and I don't think the poor bartenders were prepared for the onslaught. The place was packed with people who usually inhabit the Alaskan or the Rendezvous. But before the band even stopped playing, an exodus occurred - where did the people go? We never found out.

But it wasn't the Alaskan. Around 12:30 or 1am we went downtown and discovered that the Rendezvous had Karaoke and a scary crowd (scary-oke) and the Alaskan had some familiar faces but we didn't leave the Breakwater to listen to the Killers' first album playing from someone's iPod. We were feeling adventurous and decided to head to the Imperial, only to stumble upon some friends at the Triangle. We, a then ragtag group, turned around and headed past the Rendezvous and straight to The Lucky Lady.

I had never once set foot in the Lucky Lady. I even had a free drink token once and I gave it away because I was CERTAIN that I'd never go. But go, I did, and I don't regret it. We all drank cheap beer out of small pitchers ($5.50 a piece) and Mr. S and Miss BR took over the jukebox (yes, there was a jukebox) so we got an ear full of Flaming Lips (Mr. S had seen them in concert recently) and some sing-along worthy 80's hits thanks, probably, to Mr. MW. After a point that blueberry mocha martini, 5 shots worth of vodka, and the glasses of cheap beer kicked in full force and I experienced "time travel" as some like to call it. I blacked out and was lucky enough to find myself on my couch wrapped up in a blanket this morning. A few key things that make the night, overall, a success: Waking up without a stranger, with my glasses near me and un-broken, and with a blanket to keep me warm. Score 1 for Melissa, 1 for alcohol, 0 for, um, sobriety. Let's face it, booze and me are on the same team.

Friday, September 4, 2009


I need a sign, maybe a big blingy necklace, that reads "OCUPADO" or "DO NOT DISTURB" or something.

I was mentioning being a homebody lately, so last night I determined that I would not be a homebody. Mr. T invited me to play some pool at the Berg and I accepted the invitation, meeting him there and having a beer while playing a couple games of pool and talking about life and growing up. We got a little philosophical.

I then went to the Alaskan where I saw Miss H and sat with Miss MO and another Miss H (too many, suddenly) until they left. At which point I headed back to hang out with Mr. TB, who had been reading. I was hanging out, enjoying the music, drinking some beers, and life was good. Mr. TB is fantastic and I really like hanging out with him when he is being social. Then the magic hour was upon us. We had to finish our beers and be ushered out the door. At this point I had had a beer more than intended, something like 4 or 5 through out the night, and so had some other people, apparently.

Right at bar close, there is always a big crowd of people directly outside the bar, last night was no exception. I learned that there are consequences to saying "maybe" instead of "no" and I learned the hard way. "Maybe" gives a person the idea that confessing undying love or trying to romance you might be a good idea. "Maybe" puts you in the awkward position to drunkenly try to explain that you can't be what the romancer wants you to be. "No" would have been the better route. So after failing to make things turn out well, I decided that going home ALONE would be the best option, but then a mutual friend of the romancer and me was walking with me, not trying to push the romancer on me, as one might think, but hitting on me, I'm pretty sure. I managed to shake him and make my way home.

Then I tried to post my comic but my darling tablet PC has some virus, perhaps the swine flu, and I fell asleep before I managed to post it. But it's up now! So you should read it.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

There's No Place Like Home

I sure have been a homebody lately. I don't know what my deal is. I've been staying home most nights. I think I went out one night last week. Maybe two nights the week before. I think real homebodies don't go out at all, ever, but this is pretty quiet for me.

I stopped by a bar tonight, after attending the Sustainability Commission meeting and a reception for a Dutch film maker who is in town for a month, but I left without buying a drink because the patrons were loud and obnoxious. I didn't stop by the other bars, even though I ran into some friends in front of one.

My only real response to this is, "WTF?" That's right.

I have got to quit being lame.

Speaking of home, or the neighborhood at least, I ran into the neighbors today. It was actually sort of bad since I had meant to go talk to them about something job related and a month later I never stopped by. Oh well, looks like they hired someone. Despite the speech I sat through on how he only hires educated people, the neighbor apparently hired some 18 year old kid. Whatever. The other employee there I know said it might be for the best. I'm rather inclined to agree. She is thinking about leaving too, not forever, but to go to law school. She'd go back then.

I also ran into another neighbor. The son of the really friendly neighbors. He called out to me from their mini-van while I was walking. He asked to borrow my cell phone and invited me to get in the car. I made the right decision in declining the invitation because he told his friend he called that he was drunk. Drunk driving. Great. Am I obligated to report that? I adore his family, his mom is the sweetest woman alive and his sister is great also. I hear good things about his dad as well. It's really tragic that this kid is so self destructive.

Today Miss B and Miss R helped me pick out a pair of glasses after my appointment. They are not as flashy as my current pair, which are pretty red, but they are still sort of sassy. I guess it'll be two weeks before I get them.

And here's another good segue:

In less than three weeks (get it, I said weeks int he last paragraph?) my sister is getting married. I'm the maid of honor. I've bought my dress. I've bought my plane ticket. I've arranged a place to stay in Portland. I'll be buying a pair of shoes soon. But guess what else I have to do. That's right. I have to write a speech. Oh. Dear. God.

Anyway, if you read this and you are in Portland and you are a friend of mine and not just a creepy stalker, we should get together!