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June 11, 2009
Should I Facebook-Friend Request My Former Midwife?
June 11, 2009 4:33 PM · Comments (1)
April 17, 2009
Misplaced Old Men and Mailboxes
April 17, 2009 10:55 PM · Comments (2)
April 6, 2009
Buffet Fantasies and the Golden Dragon
Yes, there is a restaurant in the picture. I'll help you find it.
First, find the tattoo parlor with the creative sign: STRAIGHT TO THE POINT.
Next, find the strip club. Now, look at the yellow sign in between that
says, "Golden Dragon". Jackpot.After nearly four years at my workplace location downtown, it's shocking that I coexisted with a buffet in close proximity, yet did not one time grace it. A mere two blocks away from my 6x6 cube, I had passed near the Golden Dragon on foot infinity plus a google times. It seems as though I'm always hungry, and I rarely shy away from opportunities to eat enormous proportions or try a bizarre combination. I'll never forget a chocolate ice cream and bacon shake I tried a few years ago here in Portland. The first few bites were great, then the flavors...evolved, let's say. I suppose I'm a food prospector, always looking for that next enormous or strange bite. A food adventurer, if you will. You might also call me a glutton. You choose.
I like Chinese food pretty well. And 'buffet' is a word that lands softly and sweetly on my ears. It's my comfort word. Sometimes when I am having trouble getting to sleep, I just picture steam tray after delicious steam tray of meatloaf and ears of corn and mashed potatoes and gravy with it's skin lining the perimeter. In this soothing fantasy, I'm sliding a giant platter along giant buffet rails on an enormous steam table. As I add each enormous helping, I hear the platter grind slightly louder against the rails until it's a deafening roar at the end by the desserts. But while this cacophony disrupts everyone else around, it comforts me like white noise on the television after I've fallen asleep.
And buffets have meaning for me, as well. In my personal nomenclature, 'buffet' is synonymous with 'license to binge with or without shame'. Pop psychology has saturated us with the concept that the Chinese translation for 'crisis' incorporates both danger AND opportunity (apparently this is not actually true, but it's a legitimate idea based on the nature of change, nonetheless), and I believe it is also the most accurate description of my experience when I've engaged virtually every buffet through the years. First, opportunity: I fill myself to the brim with semi-tasty, unwholesome calories and finally feel complete as a person. Second, danger: Immediate dizziness, occasional narcolepsy followed by ALL of the predictable consequences of an overtaxed gastrointestinal system.
Last month while again passing by the Golden Dragon Chinese buffet and wondering how on earth it had taken me so long to set foot inside, I took a moment to superficially explore the surrounding elements for clues. Of course, there was the ever-present sandwich board outside that has always read "$5.95 All You Can Eat". I think my glances at the buffet's advertised cheap price had subconsciously triggered ambivalence, touching simultaneously on my thriftiness as well as my vague concern for taste and atmosphere. It also occurred to me how off-putting it was that I couldn't see any patrons from the sidewalk. Most restaurants have a window providing quick validation that normal people are eating normal meals inside. This restaurant-foul provided yet another challenge to me. But, as I described in the picture above, the Golden Dragon's neighbors--bookends of vice--have most likely provided reason enough to dine elsewhere. Despite my persistent generalized hunger. Despite my relative fondness for Chinese food. And even despite my fantasies about buffet food. I've taken the liberty to illustrate a number of challenges the Golden Dragon must overcome to get someone to their cash register:
Another challenge and another turnoff for me. I had to admit that a
nice long pre-meal flight of stairs was the perfect exercise for the
buffet consumer. You might call it a show of compassion from the Golden
Dragon. The Chinese-looking references and stylings in the tattered
wallpaper and
ceiling fixtures helped remind me of where I actually was despite the
stairwell's odd likeness to the urban sequences of any of the Matrix
movies. As I began to climb towards the summit, I had the unique
experience of full awareness--awareness that through the wall to my
left were folks were paying professionals to put permanent stains on
their skin, and through wall on my right were other folks paying
professionals to put permanent stains on their clothes. If awareness is
supposed to be followed by internal calm, I was mostly aware that I was not calm. It's not that I am fully opposed to tattoos and strip clubs. As
I've discussed previously, buffet experience is an emotional one for
me, so intermingling with a little grime gives me pause. Cresting
the stairs, my wariness eased a bit with the subtle knowledge that I
was now above fray and riffraff, about to eat Chinese buffet with
other like-minded individuals. A friendly Chinese woman then greeted me and asked me what I wanted. I replied, "How are you doing today?" She smiled back and said, "Fine." Pause. Then, "What is your order?"
"Um, do you own the Golden Dragon?" She glanced towards the wall, smile fading, "No." I cleared my throat. "Who does?"
"My brother," she said with finality. I appeased her, "I would like one buffet meal, please." While my credit card processed, I exercised my small-talk superpowers with, "How long has he owned this place?" She put the receipt on the table with a pen, then said, "Twenty years," while walking away. But it was ok. After all, I was at a buffet, and I knew the rules.
The idea that one person owned this place for twenty years stuck in my head for a little while as I looked around the place. I got the impression that they must have given up on atmosphere years ago. Reminds me of when single or widowed men get into their 60's and don't have anyone to remind them the comb their hair or put on clean clothes when going out in public or to trim their ear and nose hair. The Golden Dragon is a widowed 65 year old man that is not yet retired and sees no end in sight, wearily working simply because someone will employ him and he must continue to survive.
The dining room was enormous. I counted 25 people eating, but it felt like 5 were actually there. There is a bar (picture below) that I walked through and actually thought was kind of cool. But with zero booze, it was merely a memory of happier days, possibly when then the homeless patrons currently eating their won tons were a little better off. It was also the place where they store piles of dishes in bus tubs waiting to be washed.
Keeping my belongings on my person at all times, I grabbed a tray and a couple
of hot plates. I piled some orange chicken, fried rice, egg rolls and
pot stickers and chose to sit from one of many big, empty booths. I was able
to count by feel three distinct springs holding me up beneath the ancient seat fabric. Unfortunately, I
needed to use the facilities and I spotted them here behind the bar:
The emergency exit doubled as
the entrance to the restroom. After eating some of this food, it was
clear that this hallway had probably serviced many "emergencies" that
were solved easily via fast access to a toilet. I was cheered a bit by "Rest
Rooms" glowing in neon (camera couldn't decipher the lettering well),
but I don't believe the owner was thinking of my mood when he hung it there. I'm all but
certain the sign was given it's second or third chance at utility here
at the Golden Dragon after being pilfered from some poor failed
restaurant long ago.After customarily stuffing myself with average Chinese food, I felt strangely depressed rather than whole again. The other folks eating their fried fish and rice looked a bit crestfallen. Some looked downright impoverished, or even homeless. Suddenly there was noise outside as a parade of 15 protesters marched down the sidewalk calling for a Free Tibet. Normally you would see a group of people get up and check it out. Instead, everyone glanced up for a second, but then just continued eating through the ruckus (many of the windows were open) without care, myself included. Maybe that's just life in downtown Portland with the frequent demonstrations, but I wonder if we were just all too overcome with calories and melancholy to move. I started to pack up my belongings and fought off the urge to search the steam trays for antidepressants. This passed quickly as I suddenly realized I might not be feeling the good "buffet effect" kind of physically bad, but instead just physically bad.
Aware my insides were decidedly wrong and settling back on my three springs for another moment, my thoughts drifted to a happy place. I saw myself at a buffet, gliding my platter along the steam table rails and happily noticing it's weight making more and more noise. Then somewhere between a malodorous vagrant passing me by and the sight of six tables unbussed, it occurred to me that it was time to make my exit.
As I staggered green to the bottom of the stairs and went out the door, I turned back trying to remember if I had all my belongings with me. A middle-aged man and his loving bride passed me on their way out, smiles around. The man apparently mistook me for someone entering the Golden Dragon to eat. He said, "You'll enjoy it...best Chinese food around. Enjoy."
4/7/09 Addendum: You may wonder why there might be a strip club in the middle of downtown Portland and not on the outskirts of town. The answer is simple: Strip clubs are not disallowed in the City of Portland. They aren't on every street corner as one might imagine, but strip clubs are here and there all over town.
April 6, 2009 9:40 PM · Comments (5)
March 30, 2009
Coin Operated Gold
Bet you want to do some laundry now. Everybody knows that nothing
ropes business in like a new big 75-pound washer. In all seriousness, though, you'd
have to be a real laundromat aficionado to fully understand the impact of a 75 pound washer when reading the sign while driving home from McDonald's.
Makes me wonder if they only bought two as a loss leader: Get patrons in the door, then they have to use whatever machine is open if the new ones are taken. It reminds me of when I was in junior high and I heard about the new controversial, bloody arcade game Mortal Kombat. Of course I wanted to play it, but by the time got to an arcade, there would be a line of players 6 deep with only 90 minutes before my dad picked me up. So I would end up playing pinball or an oldie like Centipede. Lame.
After reading this sign the first time, my first thought
was, "What the heck? That's wacky so I'm taking a picture of that." As I examined the photo
more, it occurred to me that a 75-pound washer would be personally significant to me if I ever
used the laundromat with regularity. If I frequented a laundromat, I
might actually check out the load capacities, time machines individually for speed and efficiency,
and evaluate each machine for quality. I might then keep this research secret to increase the chances that my fast machine would be available when I arrive. And I guarantee I would
know the difference between a 60 pound washer and a 75 pound washer. In fact, if I used the laundromat, I bet would have pulled over the first time I saw the sign to make sure I read it correctly. Then I would point at it out of my car window and glare at my loving wife, and say with much gusto, "That Just Happened." Then I would wait for her to acknowledge that this is very important information. Then with a satisfied grin I would put my hand back in the car, pull back into traffic safely, and go home looking for dirty clothes.
So I commend you, Glisan Sunshine Center, for catering to your customers and knowing what they are looking for. And though I have a washer and dryer at home, I'll definitely come over as soon as you put Mortal Kombat arcade game in for me to play during wash cycles.
March 30, 2009 3:56 PM · Comments (4)
March 18, 2009
First Ever Loose Gravel Sports Interview
Gavin: Hey, is it true that Missouri ran a full-court press the entire game when you played them earlier this season? March 18, 2009 7:53 PM · Comments (2)
March 9, 2009
Facebook Ads - Get Rich Quick?
Why are all the Facebook ads all about losers who figured out how to make thousands of dollars a month by working from home?
Thanks,
iwannworkfromhometoo
Hi Iwannaworkfromhometoo,
After I received your note, I checked my own facebook account to see what you mean. I cropped a screenshot of my page. Here it is:

Geez, there are a ton of ads about folks able to make lots of dough from the comfort of their own home!
I like the top ad "I got $11,668 in only a month", like this is some impossibility. If you make $150,000 at your day job for "the man", you would be bringing in $12,500 monthly. Of course, your ad might read, "I earn $12,500 each month, click here to earn your degree and work hard like I did...".
The bottom ad is a little weirder. "Learn how I make $1250 a week from my kitchen table in my underwear"????? I think the picture paired with that quote tells us everything you need to know. It might as well read, "Learn how to rake in dough with porn cams in your house!"
If you go to the advertise page with facebook, it tells you about how you can make your own ad with their utility and target it to just the right folks. So maybe iwannaworkfromhometoo and I have something in common: Facebook thinks that our facebook profiles suggest we both want badly to be lazy and while simultaneously pulling down Bejamins. So be it.
On facebook, most of the ad placements are in a rightside column. At the bottom of the row of ads, you can click on 'more ads', and then you a big list. I really liked these two side by side:
I wonder if I should click on the $75/hour or $100/hour? I'd like to make more money per hour, but what if I have more responsibilities? And could that stack of money the dude is holding look more ill-gotten? Wrapped in rubber bands? Remember folks: If he's holding $10,000, working at $75/hour rate, he put in 133 hours for those bucks. Nothing comes easy, right? With just a little research about these ads, there is one resounding theme: Don't send anyone your money, because you shouldn't have to pay your employer, but vise-versa. Wise words, indeed. These types of ads have been around forever in newspapers, and Facebook is just the most recent, hottest ad farm. So iwannaworkfromhometoo, why does Facebook have a bunch of work from home ads? Gawker.com has a nice idea about that here. But I'm certain that the ads are there because lots people submit them, and lots of people click on them. If you grow tired of them, just click the "thumbs down" icon under the ad. You can cite the reason for the thumbs down as "misleading" or "offensive". That's what I did, and now I make $500/hourly working from the comfort of my mom's basement!
March 9, 2009 3:57 PM · Comments (1)
March 4, 2009
Old School - The Wedding
Now technically, I think I was the oldest of groom's coevals, but his older brother and I are close in age. And my cousin, his rowdy friends and I are only a couple years apart in age, 33 on my end, 30 on the young end.
But the bride and her peers? I don't think one of them has had their 25th birthday yet. Now, I didn't really feel old around them, but I'm certain that when they first met the beard and dissolving hairline the thought was, "Who dug out this artifact?", or, "My aunt Sally might like him...".
What do 24 year-olds like to do? With state college barely in the rear view mirror, I'm guessing nightly beer and horseplay. It's that magical time in post-pubescence when you can live like you're in college while actually pulling in a paycheck. Nowadays I like television, like 24 (Monday nights!) and Lost (Wednesday nights!). That's because television happens inside my house, where I need to be now pretty much every night.
But wait! I have pictures of my son and wife!
Who cares, geezer!
And dog!
What a bore!
So you might think, "Gavin, I bet you wish you could party like a 24 year-old!"
The truth is, I can party like a 24 year-old, but I choose not to. You see, with my ever-increasing value on sleep, I don't like it disrupted. A couple weeks ago I went out late at night for a little while and ran around with some youngsters. It wasn't all that great. Any fun I had was countered by thoughts about how tomorrow's misery was increasing incrementally with each passing minute away from bed. What a bore, indeed.
But the old crowd did well hanging with the youngsters this past weekend, no doubt. Up past 3am a couple of times, we were. That's pretty good. Too bad on Tuesday morning after the weekend I still felt beat-up and tired. Betcha the young crowd felt great Tuesday morning, putting together more horseplay plans for the next weekend.
I noticed the old crowd filled up the wedding hotel jacuzzi a couple days in a row. Gotta relax after those hard nights of socializing. Unfortunately, a glance or two from the young crowd getting out of their cars and walking past the back of my grizzly bear shoulders sticking out, and I was crossed off even Aunt Sally's list.
March 4, 2009 9:59 PM · Comments (0)
February 18, 2009
Greetings from Downtown Portland
I am a civil servant for the local county here in Portland, Oregon. I love working downtown. Above is a snapshot of the view from my office building. It's a far cry when I lived on E.N. 16th St in Abilene, let me tell you.
I'll never forget visiting Portland from Abilene in twice in August of 2001. Going from daily +100 degree days to the 70's and rainy (it actually doesn't rain that much in the summer) was pretty fabulous for a big guy like me. Though I miss the excellent bar-b-q and authentic tex-mex of Abilene, I don't regret the decision to move here for a minute.
February 18, 2009 12:38 PM · Comments (0)
February 17, 2009
25 Random Things About Me
What the heck is up with 25 Random Things on Facebook? I keep getting tagged by my female friends who want me to read them. I refuse to respond, or even read any of the random items. The name itself, "25 Random Things" is even irritating me. Before you read any of the "random" things, there is this paragraph:
Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
I don't like rules like that. And when someone has put in the effort to write 25 random things, and then took time to take me, I wonder if they are going to think I'm a jerk for not even reading.
My questions:
1. Do I have to then write a note with my own 25 random things?
2. Am I going to make someone feel bad for not reading theirs?
Thanks,
Gavin
No Gavin, thank you.
Here is 1 random thing about me: I have no problem writing a question to myself in the form of a journal entry.
I've been thinking a lot about 25 Random Things About Me from Facebook recently. This NYT article explains it pretty well, if you aren't sure what "25 Random Things" is.
Time has an excellent article here about some of the annoying nuances of this feature, pointing out that 5 million of these notes were written last week. The author, Claire Suddath, refers to this as "viral narcissism", which is apropos given that people share completely boring and unfunny facts about themselves on these lists. Wouldn't 5 Random Things been a much better idea? Less fluff.
Salon.com points out that people really do write some insightful things here and there. But I don't want to put in the effort to read all that stuff to find a couple gems. The wonderful slate.com gets some science in there to talk about the parasitic nature of "25 random thing" and how it's evolved.
February 17, 2009 4:06 PM · Comments (0)
Wife My New Editor - Part 2
February 17, 2009 12:22 PM · Comments (3)


