Springtime In Portlandia, Part Two

This entry is a continuation of the exciting mystery serial begun in Springtime In Portlandia, Part One. If today's entry doesn't make any sense to you, it's probably because you didn't read the first part. Duh. 

 Picture 4:

We know how to party up in the VIP. WHAT?!? Okay.

One of the aspects of this city I truly adore is the fact the populus leaves celebrities alone. Anywhere else it's all about autographs, pictures, locks of hair and partially-eaten toast. But here in Portland, a famous person can be virtually ignored. This was my experience at the Spring Beer and Wine Fest on April 18. In my recollection, I was never once approached, allowing me to finally enjoy an event in the style of the common folk.

I can only assume my handler made all of the arrangements because the VIP section left much to be desired. I'm used to far more posh accommodations when making public appearances. The drink, however, was first rate. There were so many varietals of wine, and not many of them repugnant. I prefer the sweeter types; the rieslings, moscatos and ports were not to be missed. I especially liked the Passion and Muscat from Noble Estate, the Fortissimo and Vibrato from Vitis Ridge, the Sublime from Silver Falls Vineyards, and the unique fruit wine varietals from Nehalem Bay Winery. Yes, the regular bubbly flowed as well and I know what you're thinking. No, this was not what placed me into a multi-month stupor as I still had a couple more picture clues on my phone after this one.

Picture 5:

This is how famous people slum it.

To continue my enjoyment of Portland like the regular people do, I apparently decided to try some water from a public dispenser downtown on May 22. I'm not used to imbibing this beverage when it's not pouring forth from a plastic bottle I conveniently leave anywhere because climate change is a lie, so ingesting this from a commoners' spout was very traumatic for me. Don't laugh. I'm new at all of this.

After a few seconds of sipping, I started to relax somewhat because it tasted a lot like Coors Light. After having my fill, the trauma returned as I started to feel nausea overcome my usual overwhelming sense of ego. Is this how you people always feel after drinking this swill? OMG. This is it. This is what happened that made me so sick! Immediately after I drank the water, in addition to nausea, I developed a sharp pain in my abdomen, followed by extreme dizziness, a bubonic rash, hemorrhagic fever and hiccups. Also, this happened:

Photo 6:

It ate too much poisoned quadro-triticale.

MY HAIR FELL OFF. THE WHOLE PONYTAIL!

The water. There must have been something wrong. I'm certain of it. It's almost as if someone put a dead body in the reservoir and when it was drained the body was found but everyone in charge said it was a bunch of dead birds instead. I'm never drinking water again. I could take that as a positive but I'd rather find someone to sue. We should have been warned about this.

It's fortunate I regained my health just in time to venture back to Vegas for another adventure in liver destruction but that's a story for another day. Soon.

Springtime In Portlandia, Part One

Oh, how you've missed me, dear fans. Unfortunately for you, I've spent the last several months in an induced coma to reduce a swelled ego. Either that or it was an awesome new weight loss scheme I was researching as part of my gaining even more dieting expertise. Anyway, no matter the reason, I woke up having lost a lot more weight, so I win! The difficult part of this situation is that right before this wonderful mishap, I was out and about so much here in Portland and planning on sharing all of the details with my devotees. My memory is terribly spotty so I'm going to have to do the best I can to fill in the gaps and still do my adventures justice, while also solving the mystery of my missing time. Luckily, I found numerous pictures on my phone to help me reconstruct a narrative.

Picture 1: 

Is this HELL?!?

This first photo is scary, but doesn't appear to contain anything coma-inducing. There are some spooky people in top hats, some hot chicks with fangs, and up on the stage we can see some lovely shadow dancers. Hmm. I'm going to need a little more help to narrow this event down.

Picture 2:

My butt has a spotlight on it.

I got married again or something, but my hair is all lumpy. No, hey, I think I know what this is. If we look at the two pictures together, I'm sure I went as a sacrifice to a satanic party. Clearly. Hmm. I didn't think I'd really do that. Again.

Upon checking the date stamp, 4/12/14, I figured this was the Vampire's Masquerade Ball. I went in white because not only am I completely contrarian, but I was hoping to draw the attention of numerous terrifying bloodsuckers. Do you know how much blood weighs? You could lose a dress size or ten just based upon how hungry the undead are.

The event was as beautiful as usual but I still went home just as untouched as I have each of the other five times I've been to the ball. Maybe someday I'll finally be savagely attacked. I can only keep on hoping. I mean, even the lovely organizer of the evening complimented me on my gown instead of goring me with her ram's horns. I can't win.

Picture 3:

I bet I could do that too if I was in really good shape, ate right, practiced a lot and was in tune with my body. Big deal.

This was one of the acts at the VMB, Night Flight Aerial. In addition to their spinning all over the sky acting all beautiful and cool and making me feel bad about myself, they don't throw up while they're up there or anything. There were other acts, like DJs that play a lot of dark stompy music and people with instruments that I know are mocking me because I gave up practicing the piano years ago, but they didn't spoil my mood. There were plenty of mirrors to look in constantly so I could keep my priorities in focus. As usual, I stayed all night and had a wonderful time even though I wasn't completely exsanguinated, but there's always next year so I can try again.

There are other pictures on my phone after this so this was definitely not what drove me comatose. I'll have to keep on looking in order to solve the mystery. Part Two of this investigation will be posted next week.

PS: Adult vampires are NOT the same thing as Vampire Babies. Not even close. Really.

I'm an Expert Dieter Now... and You Can Be One, Too!

Notice I didn't say "diet expert". No, I'm an expert dieter. As in, I've finally learned all of the tricks that will keep me dieting for the rest of my life. Everywhere you look online, you can find people like me and they are so sort-of helpful. They are women who've been trying to lose weight for at least a decade or ten and this is kind of AWESOME.

I mean, here I was following a plan to the letter and dropping the fat poundage like cray cray (70 lbs!) when I suddenly realized a terrible truth: what happens to all my new friends when I finish losing the weight? Oops, sorry, *loosing* the weight. There, that's better. Anyway, who will I be able to whine to about my constant hunger? Who will absolve me of my binging sins? Who will suggest ridiculous uses for Laughing Cow wedges? I finally figured out that the point of online dieting forums was not to actually help anyone loose the weight but to have camaraderie forever surrounding an enduring abject failure to attain a healthy mental, emotional and physical state. Mmm... this Vitatop smothered in a melted tbsp of chocolate chips and SF strawberry preserves is YUMM-O!

As I have now unlocked Level: Expert, I feel compelled to share diet tips with you all of the time, whether you ask me or not. Please post a list of everything you eat during each meal, like I will, and I will tell you if it's okay (something I would eat), or totally not on plan (something actually probably on plan but I don't like that you loose more weight than me so I will suggest you sub some 40 calorie super preservative-laden 70 year shelf life bread for the whole grain high fiber non-GMO loaf you've been eating). BTW, I'm eating a FF yogurt sweetened with aspartame right now that will totally give me a migraine, preventing me from working out and instead giving me a cool sob story to share on the boards later.

Just for you, my dear fans, I've put together some examples of the most useful tips I've learned online. This is so that when you join a forum, board or Facebook group, you'll be more than ready to spout the latest, greatest gobbledy-gook like the rest of us. You'll be dieting like an expert, too if you follow these key points:

1. Vitatops are ambrosia from the Gods. Eat them at every opportunity. It's required. Also, grab yourself some sandwich or bagel thins, spread with a Laughing Cow wedge or FF cream cheese, add a gratuitous tomato slice and you've got lunch (along with some FF yogurt that makes you poop a lot or a 400% sugar protein shake with lots of chemical names you can't understand).
2. Have you heard about Dole Banana or Strawberry Frozen Dippers? Yum! They're an excellent choice for a 100 cal snack that won't fill you up but you're going to eat them anyway because you're not mentally or emotionally ready to lose weight. You're not really looking at food as fuel yet but as a complete crutch to save you from your sad, tedious existence so you'd better eat the whole box to be safe. Make sure to suggest them to everyone else at every opportunity on every forum you frequent so they can join you in your misery.
3. Manipulate the entire system to bend to how you want to cheat yourself. If the plan says to eat 1 c of whole wheat pasta, sub spaghetti squash. Yum! If it says 1 small personal cheese pizza, make a cauliflower crust and top it with double the cheese and add some turkey pepperoni. Yum! If it says 1 tsp olive oil, use FF spray. If it says avocado, don't eat anything at all. The point I'm trying to make here is, you have do nonsensical substitutions so that you will either not loose any weight from eating too many add-ons and you can blame the plan, or My Fitness Pal alerts you that you're not eating enough calories and you can blame the plan for giving you a slow metabolism. Either way, you win!
4. That whole container of Costco cookies isn't going to eat itself.
5. Work out way more than you're supposed to so you injure yourself and you won't be able to exercise any more. Don't let that stop you from encouraging others to do the same.
6. End every meal/snack suggestion with the following: YUM! Also, you spell "lose" as "loose" now.
7. Dr. Oz likes to talk about poop a lot. Now, so do you.
8. Post frequent pictures of: your food, your body, your old body, your children, the wedding you went to last week, the clothes you're going to buy next week, the FF popcorn on sale at the store, the PB2 you bought because now even natural peanut butter is evil for some reason, and every other damn thing you'd like to share whenever it crosses your mind because you actually think we all give a fuck.
9. Have a monthly fundraising cupcake bake sale at your place of employment so that you can look like you're loosing weight by getting everyone else fat. 
10. Whatever you do, don't ever, EVER eat any real food. It's your duty now to eat as many boxed, canned or frozen diet foods as possible to keep the industry afloat. They're banking on you becoming expert dieters and buying their products for the rest of your life.

Make absolutely certain that if you do go on a plan that encourages healing your emotional self, working with physical or medical limitations, eating healthy yet tasty foods that you cook for yourself, and exercising in realistic moderation, that you still take over the related official groups and bombard everyone with all of the processed foods, cheats, and lingo you've learned from being an expert dieter at the 20 other plans you've been on your whole life. Thank you for sharing your delightful hints, wisdom and sabotage. I've learned so much from you, the real experts. It's to ladies like you that I owe this entire post.

Smoky Vegas High (photos)

As I have referenced in a few other posts, I made a long trip to Las Vegas this summer to do a bit of fashion exploration and photography practice. Upon returning to Portland I was immersed in summer school so I placed my photos aside for another day. I suppose today is as good a day as any to bestow upon you the photographic evidence of decrepit Las Vegas. I hate it there so much I only go several times a year.

I have been impressed with recent developments in smoke fan and ventilation technology, as the casinos have been not nearly as hazy and stale as they have been in the past. I honestly did not mind spending hours wandering the shops because the ventilation was good, my asthma medication was good, and, well, it was 117 degrees outside. Literally. A vast difference from the weather in Portland as of late.

After a few days, I ventured outside for pool time, armed with gallons of water and SPF 15. Gazing through my sunglasses, I saw a haze I wasn't used to outside of my neighborhood: endless smoke. At first I assumed the casino ventilation fans were extremely efficient to the point the outdoors were now more smoky than the indoors. After a few moments, I let my intelligence creep in for a moment and realized the smoke was coming from a massive wildfire to the west of town. The following pictures are of Las Vegas and the wildfire smoke at the end of June 2013 through the beginning of July 2013. Click on them to view in large format.

Hazy skyline. Those aren't rain clouds.

Smoky sunset.

Triangular smoke face.

North Strip.

Early construction of one of the many new rides/observation wheels/vomit inducers.

Another day, another smoke column.

Smoke close-up.

It moved.

Swirls at sunset.

Sometimes it's okay to stare at the sun.

Sun up close.

Thicker smoke now than in the other construction shot.

Stop Inviting My Nemesis to Your Parties

I hate you.

Some pig.

Whomever invites the pig, you're on notice. That swine thinks she's all that. "Look at moi!" "Where's the food?" "Ooh, champagne!"

She's always showing up at the same parties I do. By the time I get to the bar, it's empty. I dash to the buffet, she's on the floor, rolling around and snorting in the remaining scraps. This one time I tried to pull a carrot stick out from under her and she let out a huge, "Hi-Yah!" and chopped me in the throat.

From her stupid big sparkly rings to her super flexible little on-again-off-again boyfriend, she just can't stop talking about how awesome her life is and how great it is to be so famous. "Ooh, Lars is the BEST personal trainer," or "Call Bernie to book me, I'm just too busy to talk right now." Seriously, I'm getting sick of hearing about all of it. Get over yourself.

Well, get this. A couple of weeks ago, we were at the same type of function again and I unfortunately got there less fashionably late than she did. However, that did allow me to eat a box of delectable cookies before she could touch them. She swept into the room, all fluttering eyelashes and cooing in that ridiculous high-pitched squealy voice she does when she puts on a show. I know what's she's really like under all of that: a gravelly-voiced rage monster just waiting to karate kick you into next week. Anyway, there was still a large pot of warm chili on the buffet stand and I directed her attention to it. "You have to try it. It's delicious."

She didn't reply because she was too busy putting her head in the pot and gobbling down ever last meaty morsel. Oh, the tears I cried from laughter. I hope you enjoyed that pork chili as much as I enjoyed watching you eat it.

OMG. I think we're best friends now!

My Mother Ruined Everything

Dear New Neighbors,

I am sorry. I am so SO sorry. My mother has these antiquated ideas about life, you see, and she just does not understand how it is these days, no matter how hard I try to educate her otherwise. I am truly ashamed for what she did to you and I simply do not know how I can go on. I greatly lament the fact you will now miss out on knowing the greatest creature to ever grace this universe: ME.

Condolences,

J. Kesgard
Famous Person

Wracked with sadness & regret.

BACKSTORY
The fact our neighbor of 23 years had moved out and sold her house was a frightening prospect. Who would buy the house? Would they know who I am? What presents would they give me in order to curry my favor? These were questions I just could not answer until I laid eyes on the people themselves. One day, I witnessed one of them quickly moving cleaning supplies into the house. I assumed he was the new owners' servant but I soon realized he may have been one of the owners himself as he had a vampire baby with him.

We allowed the new residents to move in uninterrupted, as I would have liked them to be settled and focused when I sent over the brochure of gift baskets for them to choose from to give to me. Unfortunately, the day I was to send my publicist over, my live-in annoyance, Mommy Dearest, RUINED EVERYTHING.

Mother lives in the servants' quarters in my McMansion and decided to go outside without permission. She was putting something in the garbage can like a peasant and noticed the neighbors working on cars in the driveway. She approached like a tiger, slow and slinking but pouncing at the last second, uttering a terrible phrase I will never forget, "Hi, I'm Jan. I live next door."

The absolute nerve.

The new neighbor glanced at her for a second, said a quick, "Hi," and went back to working on his car. Mother stood there for a few moments, receiving no further acknowledgement, and finally walked off. Later, when my footballer husband was outside surveying a garden project, he attempted to introduce himself as well, and received a mere grunt. These two events destroyed my chance at becoming even more famous. At first I assumed these people would merely become my devotees, but from how they acted, it's clear they must be super famous people themselves and now we'll probably never snort coke off of a model together or anything!

I ventured outside to supervise* my husband's gardening supervision and looked over to the neighbors' house. The woman that lived there was now outside as well. She barely glanced at me in her chain smoking session; she was too busy associating with the male resident and a friend that came over wearing pajamas at two in the afternoon. When they were finished working on the cars, smoking, and listening to the baby wailing from inside the house, they hastened to disappear back into the domicile so I couldn't recognize them and call TMZ.

I can only assume their standoffishness was due to how famous they are, combined with how old fashioned my mother is. Back in the day, when you moved into an established neighborhood where most of the residents know each other, you'd welcome the new neighbors and everyone would introduce themselves. People used to like knowing who their neighbors were, so they could be friendly and look out for each other. Sadly, some of the other older residents on my street still insist on saying hello to me when they walk past. They even want to have whole conversations. The worst is when we actually step foot into each others' houses. I'm so sad these old neighbors haven't gotten the memo. Get with the now, people.

If my mother had listened to me, she would've known how to approach our new superstar neighbors: on hands and knees, eyes averted, pushing a carton of cigarettes along with her nose. When given permission to rise, she would then curtsy and kiss their rings. At that time, she'd then give them my publicist's card and she'd receive theirs in return. Someone's people would call someone's people, and then a few days later we'd be waking up in an infinity pool in Vegas, surrounded by champagne bottles and vomit. Now none of it will EVER HAPPEN. Now they will never know how super cool I am and we will never sext nudes to each other that will end up on The Dirty. They will never know what they are missing. I'm sorry. I'm just so SO sorry, new celebrity neighbors.

*If you are approached by someone insisting they have pictures of us digging up a stump, don't believe them. It's a lie!

Here lies my neighbors' chance at knowing how fabulous I am.

Now Making Guest Appearances!

I receive inquiries ALL THE TIME from so many of my fans regarding social functions and entertaining. Jennifer, how do I make my party exciting? How do I truly celebrate a life event in a special way? Do you know the secret to throwing the best bashes? DO I?!? Duh...

The best social gatherings all have one essential component: me.

Mingette & I on the wood carpet.

Now that we are entering the holiday season, my services will certainly be required at a great number of public events. In the last couple years, I limited my appearances to a select few engagements due to my time being occupied by other projects and a great many naps. This year, I aim to attend numerous celebrations, especially where I can get lots of free stuff like all the other celebrities.

This last weekend, I was invited to a VIP screening of an epic sporting competition. Mingette and I were amused by the idea of making an appearance as sporting events are not usually known to possess the level of class and sophistication we do. Fortunately, this gathering required only my presence and an offering of [redacted] candy and the plans were set. My driver had me to the door a reasonable hour late and I was ushered in quickly; no velvet ropes for this superstar!

I enjoyed a wide variety of exotic foods prepared by my personal chef (which we brought in, Hugh Hefner-style). The most wonderful surprise of the evening was the choice of beverage. Usually I enjoy a delightful glass of something grape-based and bubbly. However, I was introduced to an almost equally delicious beverage that was derived from another fruit: apple cider. How exquisite. This is soon to be a topic on which I will soon be an expert and eternally annoy friends, family, acquaintances and strangers alike. Cider is my new best friend.

Mingette loves Diego Valeri and would enjoy a scratch & a pat.

Mingette and I made our way to our reserved seating and watched some muscularly blessed men topple all over each other. As I am the Worst Timbers Blogger, I made sure to place most of my attention toward glimpsing abs and butts. Mingette is far better of a sports mind and often interrupted my viewing experience. She's writing a book about NASL Timbers and how much she hated their shorts.

The only difficulty I had with the evening was the fact the VIP area wasn't separated enough from the main viewing area. I'm sure I had to breathe the same air as some of the lesser people who probably haven't been on a reality show or made a sex tape yet or anything.

All in all, the evening was a success and I'm looking forward to more this season. I already have a few engagements booked in the next month and I'll be sure to tell you, my dear fans, all about them.

Post engagement on-site nap. The VIP area lacked the cushy couches I'm used to dancing on.