pdxcross

Wow.

This is really incredible. It's like talking to your idiot republican sister-in-law after 3 glasses of wine.

I can't believe this is happening.

Many visitors and smiles planned for the next few weeks.

The Oakland G's will be on hand for some eating/drinking/chilling action.
I'm thinking Ceveche for friday night (photo recipe to come) and a suitcase of little red pills. I gotta pick up my jeans from my tailor Jae who is right near the seafood counter of my dreams, so I'll grab few fishy things.

Then maybe some pokpok?



The Khao Soi Kai might be my favorite dish at any restaurant, ever.


Then the 43's will be winging in from Les Bois, bikes in tow, and kids at Sis's house.

You bastards.

Mr. Chris will be happy to know that I've been involved in some deeply satisfying R&D into weird asian things we can eat, and have inadvertently stumbled upon what may be the Best Sardines of All Time.

Which is great, because Mang Tomas All Purpose Sauce is fucking vile stuff.



Thank god for Uwajimaya, in
all its glory.

The School's visit is supposed to have something to do with their old-asses reaching an anniversary of some sort, but it just coincidentally co insides with the
Oregon Manifest weekend of handmade bikes, booze and some sweet cross action.

My advice to Mr. Chris is to do nothing to prepare. Should I drop a mid-pack, master C victory upon his ruined, old self, I shall be pleased.

Looking forward to seeing you all, good friends.

vanaru

First thing tomorrow I'm gonna go trade in the saturn on one of these nifty 4-wheel-drive vans with a 3.3L subaru SVX motor in it. Looks like fun, no?





More.

ain't it the truth.

This is where I want to be. Stale sweat and the grating whine of industrial rollers. Heaven.

Molly Cameron just killing it.


If anyone knows who took this photo, could you please let me know so I can credit them?

Training Log Vol. 1

The hills are thataway, bitches.



Down!



The Beer Store.

That Palin woman is as poisonous a bitch as was ever hatched.

My professional advice would be to get your fucking passports in order, pronto.

You think the last 8 years have been bad, we're in for the mother of all clusterfucks when she's the new Cheney.

At least when they close the borders and lock up all the queers and Mexicans, the rest of us will have good paying jobs out on oil rigs somewhere.


Mommy?

hot stuff

First, you gotta grow yourself a freaky looking two-pound tomato in a container on the front porch. Very important step.



Next, round up some onion, cilantro, salt, and lime. Garlic and peppers, too.
Pan roast those nucks until your eyes are sweating and the house smells like the third world.





Then, mucho chopping. What else are you gonna do while The Lads scream at the dog and throw Indian food on the floor?

It was all worth it, bitches.

kismet

This morning I asked The Cuban if he'd ever seen the footage of Townes playing Poncho and Lefty in the trailer. He just smiled and pointed to a little tiny painting hanging above the cash register. I never really noticed it before, but now I'm real happy it's there.

The Cuban, he notices things.

TVZ

Thanks to Reverend Dick for this.

Jonny Hamachi is throwing it down these days. You must read this.






.

Beer.

I drank beer last night.

Big fuckin whoop, you might say.

Some of you may never have seen me without a little red pill grasped in my mitt, and would find it odd to picture your old pal the pleasurefucker any other way.

But, since I've decided recently that life is nothing without some sort of painful sacrifice to really make you feel vibrant, I decided to quit drinking.





For a month.





Big fuckin whoop, you might say, again. And you'd be right. Most folks don't mind a dry spell here and there, just to get things on track, but me, I've been beer-drunk since my sophomore year of high-school, and have rarely taken any kind of break. In fact, last time I didn't drink for a month I had pneumonia and nearly died freezing my ass off in a drafty flat on Turk St.
I was 22.

Fourteen years ago.

So, I thought I'd give it a go. Give myself 35 days of good food and clear water to get in shape for the Cross Crusade opener in October.

12 days was pretty good. Guess I'll have to ease into this deal, huh?

Found

Dear Patches,

You're doomed.

Sincerely,

The Lads.

Amos Moses

Cocaine Country at it's finest. Toledo, '83.



Thanks for all you gave us, Superclaw.

In the Sweet Bye and Bye

Good god did fall come upon us as we woke this morning, the snap of air billowing the shades and bringing a bit of wood smoke and a scuttle of leaves.

No better reason then to revisit times gone and make a little crosstown jaunt to the Ristretto roasters. Finer coffee ain't never been had nowhere, by any man I can name.



I had a nice afternoon shift at the bye yesterday. Paintings by The Cuban, Juan Casas.









I was downtown the other day and spied this Long John, gettin it on.



And finally, The Weapon is looking pretty good. How you feeling, fat bitches?