Friends and Fond Memories Version 2.0

Work has been pretty brutal this week (We are preparing for the final stages of our Winter performance) and I haven't exactly had excess energy when I get to the house to produce new content.  I figured this might be a good excuse to post some older content, namely photos of some of my friends.  So here we are: for those of you who don't know, these people are my friends and for those of you pictured, who doesn't like to see photo's of themselves on the Internet?

The throwback continues tomorrow with a post from the past about one of my favorite destinations in the Pacific North West: Wolf Haven International.  Stay tuned.

My oldest friend, Jack.  One of my fondest memories of Jack was when he and I brought in 2006 (I think...) by throwing a 40'' tv off of a stoop in the Mission and almost getting beat down by 4 trill homies on the BART.  Awesome.

Karl is party vibes USA.  Always down to have a good time and get some.  One time Karl and I were driving from Portland to the Bay for Thanksgiving and the engine block in my Volvo cracked.  Like kapoot, broken, zeroed out with smoke flowing and oil pouring.  We had to get towed for like 200 miles into some bum fuck town about an hour north of Redding.  Despite being about 200 lbs overweight, our driver swore he was a pro stock car driver,  not NASCAR, but some other cutty semi pro shit.  Anyway, he told lots of crazy car racing stories and farted the whole ride.

Steven M. is a friend from my hometown who is currently studying to be a bang up journalist at SF State.  He's way into skateboarding and taking photographs of all sorts of wacky shit.  He's also a really decent dude.  Steven was also with Jack and I on the BART train on New Years.  He kept his head down during the whole confrontation and was pissed that Jack kept talking shit to the homeboys, increasing our risk of getting beat down. 

Tiffany on the left and Renato on the right.  Renato is one of my soul brothers.  I don't ever get to see him anymore, as he has a habit of disappearing deep undercover for month's/years on end.  The last time I saw him he was wearing some sort of hippie vest and telling me how he needed to smuggle his pet chickens into CA... I don't know dude.  I just hope you're happy and I want you to know that I miss you.  Renato is the best.  He is one of the only people I know who would always have my back.  Always.

This is Phil.  He is one of the best bar tenders in Portland and if you're lucky enough he'll serve you up some cutty prohibition era cocktail on the sly.  He always seems to be working on some new cocktail and will hook you up with said recipe if you're interested.  One time Phil and I went to this swank bar in the Pearl and had flights of single malt scotch.  It was tight, but we got over the vibe pretty quick and spent the rest of the afternoon boozin down on a budget at the Low Brow.  Phil seems to either walk everywhere or take a cab.  Although he hasn't said it, all other forms of transportation seem to be irrelevent if not obsolete to him.  I have Phil to thank for introducing me to Booker's Bourbon, Sazerac Rye, and Plymouth Gin.

This is Paige.  Sometimes she likes to make weird faces and wear my bike helmet.  I like this picture because it shows how much fun Paige can be, which is not as immediately noticeable as how stylish and pretty she is.

 One time Rachel, Paige, and I went to Value Village for some Sunday afternoon thrifting when all of a sudden, Paige informed us that things were beginning to get a little hairy in the guts department and that if it was all the same to us, she would prefer to get going.  Get going we did.  Unfortunately, on the way home things weren't looking too much better.  This became painfully clear to me when somewhere along NE 33rd my back was basted with a healthy dose of Paige puke.  This continues to be one of my favorite stories to tell anytime vomit enters the realm of conversation.  Sorry, Paige.  That's the price you pay for puking on me in the car.  

Palladino to the left, Carib to the Right.  Every wednesday, this pair, A. Harris and myself would get together and listen to records for hours.  We called it the Record of the Month club even though we met every week.  Getting together with a group of friends and listening to records may be my favorite thing to do.  Seriously.

Lance has a healthy sense of adventure and a sharp tongue.  One of my favorite things about Lance is that when he get wasted he gets this boyish grin on his face and you know it only a matter of time before he starts banging on whatever's around and begins to freestyle about whatever the fuck is going on in his sick, drunken mind.  He is also a really great guy to go on vacation with as he is surprisingly organized (dude can whip up an agenda like nobody's biz).

A. Harris rules.  I like playing basketball with him because he's all limbs (Like 6'4'' of them, the dude's tall).  He is a super nice guy and charming as a can be.  Women can barely resist him, I swear, I've seen it.

Morris makes awesome movies and is nice to everyone.  He is one of the only people I know who is really following his dream, so I've got nothing but love for him.  If you see him, buy him a drink.  You won't regret it.

Josh LOVES to have a good time.  The first time I met him we partied for like 30 hours.  Midway through I woke up on the floor of some house in Sellwood I had never seen drunk, and confused.  It was only a matter of minutes until everyone we were with piled into Josh's Impala (Which looks like a fucking bomb went off in it) and went to get breakfast.  Once we were comfortably seated at one of my favorite breakfast destinations (The Detour Cafe) we ordered our breakfast and decided to order a bottle of champagne.  One became three and I quickly knew I had made a friend.

Man I wish I was better friends with this Guy.  Scotty is one of the most awesome dudes I have ever met.  The dude used to be a straight hellion in his younger days, blacking out whisky drunk on the regular.  I once heard a story of some of his friends U-locking his neck to a cyclone fence when he had passed out.  Very excellent.  Scotty is really good at going undercover in the woods and looking like he is about 45, but really he's only like 26 or 27.  He can grow one of the best mustaches I think I've ever seen.  Scotty also used to have the most wretched dread heads I have ever seen on anyone, black or white.  In his drivers license he has the face of Spicoli and the dreads of a Marley.  It also happens to be from New Jersey.  This guy is made of good stories and party dust.

Peter is just as cool as he looks in this picture.

My favorite Pete Fagin story involves the discovery of a questionable clear baggy, even more questionable bars, and Chinatown.  No further information shall be divulged.

Santi and Erica just playing it cool.  The first time I met Erika my eyes almost exploded out of my head.  Lance had been continuing a long distance relationship with her for like a year or something and would always talk about her.  Neither myself nor anyone I knew had actually seen her, so I began to have my doubts as to whether or not she actually existed.  I was really on the fence with the whole issue.  Turns out she is real and really awesome.  I like the way she sasses Lance around a say his name, "Lahhhhnce."  

Stevo to the left Devo to the right.

Steven can squeeze two dimes out of a nickel.  He is one of the most frugal, penny pinching dudes I have ever met and I mean that in the best possible way.  He never seems to have disposable income, but you can find him partying and having a good time just about every night of the week.  Truly admirable.  He is also a primo record nerd and common site at record stores throughout Portland.

Devo enjoys petting his cat Walter, driving his car Geoffrey, and making bitchin' stained glass art pieces.  He is also really pretty.

Danny, Joanne, and Nick

Nick is a talented architect that works for a hot shit firm downtown.  He loves playing music by himself in his room and drinking bud light until he passes out.  Dude has some sketchy bowels and sometimes needs to let deuce at a moments notice.  He calls his affliction "guts."  One time he got the guts so bad he had to take a shit in the little alley in between the little cyclone fence and the Plaidy on Interstate.

Joanne is my friend and former neighbor.  She would always stop by my previous place of employment and shoot the shit with me, keep me up to date on neighborhood gossip, and just generally wild out.  She used to call me "Arithmetic" because it always took me forever to count up her change and sometimes even then I would fuck it up.  I think she gave me another more charitable nick name at some point, but I nor anyone else can seem to remember that one.  Oh, and sometimes she wears one of those tall tees that has the body of a "sexy" lady in a bikini on it, so the person wearing it looks like they are standing behind one of those photo cut out things.  That shit rules.

Lima teaching Johnny to high five.

Johnny is a former classmate (is that the word?  I mean he went to my college, but we never had any classes together) that also used to live around the corner from me.  He is grade A smart ass who loves to talk some shit, which I love.  I think for the first 2 years I knew him I couldn't tell if he liked me or couldn't stand me.  Anyway, one of my fondest memories with Johnny was when we went on a Bar tour of as many shitty bars on Lombard as we could fit into one evening.  The next morning I woke up drunk in the front seat of my car with a case of stolen beer and two dirty pint glasses.

One of the few pictures of the elusive Rick Delucco.

Rick is a bang up artist and one of the nicest dudes I have ever met.  He often has work on display at Tender Loving Empire (NW 17th and Lovejoy).  He has made several children's books, countless awesome paintings and drawings, and all sorts of other cutty prints.  One time Rick got his Corolla stolen from right under his nose and 4 months later received a phone called notifying him that his vehicle had been recovered.  Miraculously enough, the car wasn't even that fucked up.  It turns out some teenagers had stolen it and just drank a bunch of beer and smoked in the thing until it ran out of gas.  I can't remember for sure, but they might have peed in it, too.  I don't know though.

Homeboy line up.

From Left to Right: Sean, Johnny, Mitch, Devo.

Miss you guys.

xoxo