Failing Street Drama Vol.1- Pilot Episode: Mac Daddy Lake
This weekend turned into a hardcore housemate bonding fest.
With nothing to do on our Sunday afternoon, Jenn and I both agreed that it was imperative that we don our swimsuits for at least one day of the summer of 2007. Jenn knew of a lake in Troutdale, and this became our target destination. After being sidetracked by reruns of ANTM sharing the only bathroom, and a Safeway pitstop to pick up all the celeb gossip $20 can buy, we were ready to go. But...ready to go where? I205 South? 84 East? We don't know. Ten phonecalls later, we were directed to the right road.
Our next challenge: Actually locating said lake once in Troutdale. Problem solved quickly and easily with the help of a local at the Plaid Pantry.
Wait: Our heroines aren't in the clear yet. The lake was actually a river, much like the one I went to last year. To get there, you need to freaking mountaineer down the side of a cliff...in our respective pairs of shoes that lacked traction. As we contemplated our descent, some "gentlemen" came to our rescue and offered to carry us down on their backs. We declined, because we did not appreciate being "macked on by the big daddies." We made it down, but not without hilarity ensuing. Jenn wouldn't touch dirt and did things like go around a fallen log instead of climb over, while I said that I would straddle the tree trunk- or anything for that matter to help me get down- as long as it wasn't one of the men.
At the river, I made my token Queens girl, "There are THINGS in the water" comment, but was brave enough to go underwater. Jenn stayed on the side and obtained photographic evidence of this feat. While settling down in a sunny, sandy spot to read the true literature of our time (naked Britney Spears in Allure, Katie and Suri in US Weekly, his #1 sex fantasy in Cosmo), we also managed to obtain photographic evidence of something else: some dude's butt crack.
What's worse than doing the paparrazzi deed? Being caught! We were startled by the approach of a man with no teeth in a Pabst hat, asking if we took a picture of them. Only one thing to do: Deny Deny Deny. Later, we saw the same man peeing. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a penis? Nope, too small to tell!
In a fit of giggles, we left the river...only to have the river fight back. My left arm is mangled by blackberry bushes, and Jenn, mommy that she is, bandaged me up. Then it was back home, for a mac-and-cheese-off (Kraft won) and a viewing of "The Nanny Diaries."
What fun! We needed to share this with others! So we returned to our river spot (this time, I wore sneakers) this afternoon with Jenn's friend Natalie. Saw some of the same losers (no teeth, Pabst hat guy tried to talk to us, but was quickly rebuffed) and some different ones (other guys came over and offered us Pabst. Now Jenn is a classy lady, not the sort who you try to impress with cheap beer, and even I won't drink some strangers Pabst. Now if it were decent beer, that would be a different story). Jenn, Natalie and I waded into the river for some girl talk, but spent most of our time on the shore with our celeb gossip. For dinner, we went to Edgefield, which was awesome, and ended the evening at Failing St. with "The Devil Wears Prada."
I feel like I had the best summer had to offer in one weekend, and I got to spend time with my *AMAZING* housemate. For the first time since I got my job, I'm actually not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.
With nothing to do on our Sunday afternoon, Jenn and I both agreed that it was imperative that we don our swimsuits for at least one day of the summer of 2007. Jenn knew of a lake in Troutdale, and this became our target destination. After being sidetracked by reruns of ANTM sharing the only bathroom, and a Safeway pitstop to pick up all the celeb gossip $20 can buy, we were ready to go. But...ready to go where? I205 South? 84 East? We don't know. Ten phonecalls later, we were directed to the right road.
Our next challenge: Actually locating said lake once in Troutdale. Problem solved quickly and easily with the help of a local at the Plaid Pantry.
Wait: Our heroines aren't in the clear yet. The lake was actually a river, much like the one I went to last year. To get there, you need to freaking mountaineer down the side of a cliff...in our respective pairs of shoes that lacked traction. As we contemplated our descent, some "gentlemen" came to our rescue and offered to carry us down on their backs. We declined, because we did not appreciate being "macked on by the big daddies." We made it down, but not without hilarity ensuing. Jenn wouldn't touch dirt and did things like go around a fallen log instead of climb over, while I said that I would straddle the tree trunk- or anything for that matter to help me get down- as long as it wasn't one of the men.
At the river, I made my token Queens girl, "There are THINGS in the water" comment, but was brave enough to go underwater. Jenn stayed on the side and obtained photographic evidence of this feat. While settling down in a sunny, sandy spot to read the true literature of our time (naked Britney Spears in Allure, Katie and Suri in US Weekly, his #1 sex fantasy in Cosmo), we also managed to obtain photographic evidence of something else: some dude's butt crack.
What's worse than doing the paparrazzi deed? Being caught! We were startled by the approach of a man with no teeth in a Pabst hat, asking if we took a picture of them. Only one thing to do: Deny Deny Deny. Later, we saw the same man peeing. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a penis? Nope, too small to tell!
In a fit of giggles, we left the river...only to have the river fight back. My left arm is mangled by blackberry bushes, and Jenn, mommy that she is, bandaged me up. Then it was back home, for a mac-and-cheese-off (Kraft won) and a viewing of "The Nanny Diaries."
What fun! We needed to share this with others! So we returned to our river spot (this time, I wore sneakers) this afternoon with Jenn's friend Natalie. Saw some of the same losers (no teeth, Pabst hat guy tried to talk to us, but was quickly rebuffed) and some different ones (other guys came over and offered us Pabst. Now Jenn is a classy lady, not the sort who you try to impress with cheap beer, and even I won't drink some strangers Pabst. Now if it were decent beer, that would be a different story). Jenn, Natalie and I waded into the river for some girl talk, but spent most of our time on the shore with our celeb gossip. For dinner, we went to Edgefield, which was awesome, and ended the evening at Failing St. with "The Devil Wears Prada."
I feel like I had the best summer had to offer in one weekend, and I got to spend time with my *AMAZING* housemate. For the first time since I got my job, I'm actually not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.