Today, I am mourning.

Today, I am mourning my 13 year old soul. This all backtracks to about an hour ago, when my roommate brought up the Crocodile Café in a group text message.  Being a Seattle newb, and never having heard of this venue, I googled it. And there it was.

Death Cab for Cutie, January 20

And just like that, daggers were thrown at my 8th grade soul, because the show is sold out and I have to work a night shift anyway. I know this might seem melodramatic, but I have been singing I will follow you into the dark in the shower since 2006, and I still put on Transalanticism when I’m driving alone. I don’t know, it’s just one of those bands that has stuck with my ole teenage corazon, even after I shred the DC shoes, Hollister, and puka shell necklaces.

I think we all have those bands or albums, though. Those ones that we will hear a song from randomly and be filled with all of these nostalgic feels. Those albums with which you associate the melodies with growing up.

For me, it was Death Cab for Cutie. And I actually remember being introduced to them, weird as that might be. It was the summer of 2006, and I had a new video iPod. I was loving the band Keane and their album Under the Iron Sea at the time, and besides a couple of staple hits (notably Lean like a Cholo, This is Why I’m Hot, and Lean wit it Rock wit it), it was one of the few selections of music I had actually taken the time to upload. I went with my family down to Chicago to celebrate my cousin’s graduation from high school, and he had an open house party with friends and family. I started talking with one of his good friends, and he took my iPod out of my hand and started scrolling through my music. I remember being super embarrassed, because I had like nothing on it, but he said he loved Keane too, and told me that my library would grow.

We totes hit it off after that. I want to say we played pool and I shoved some cake in his face, you know, all the weird shit you do when you’re an awkward teen, and we totally exchanged numbers on our flip phones. It was a big deal. Anyway, I remember we talked on the phone one night and he told me that I should check out Death Cab for Cutie, since I liked Keane. And just like that, Plans became the album of the rest of my summer. I’ve always associated that album with growing up and starting to embark on my long, peculiar, awkward, ongoing, and mostly great journey of personal growth. Oh, and for the record, I am still good friends with that guy.

Actually, my first couple of weeks in Seattle, back in June, I stumbled into Easy Star Records, and I found a used copy of Plans for like $5. And I’ve been listening to it like it’s 2006 all over again. So, anyway, you can imagine my heartbreak, when, here I am, almost a decade later, living in the city where one of my absolute favorite bands is from, and I can’t see them tonight. Excuse me, while I go cry like a heartbroken 14 year old.

But, that aside, I actually did get to experience some pretty nostalgic and amazing shows over the weekend. For my roommate, Sada, the String Cheese Incident was a huge part of her adolescence. She last saw them in 2007, but had followed them on tour growing up. They had a show here in Seattle, at the Paramount, and I was lucky enough to get to relive the good times with her and some of her friends from home. And good times barely encompasses how awesome it was getting string cheesy on Friday.

And Saturday, Sada and I kept our power weekend rolling, and she took me to her Amazon company party, where Weezer was playing. And Weezer is up there with Death Cab for Cutie on the nostalgia list. From listening to Island in the Sun with my brother, rocking out to Beverly Hills at awkward middle school parties, or using Troublemaker as my anthem with mah home girl Frankie in college, those guys get me. And the show was on point. I’m really loving their new song, Back to the Shack. 

An amazon prom pic

So, although I will have to keep waiting for my dream of being in a 100 foot radius of Ben Gibbard, it was still a pretty solid weekend.

Anyways, thanks for mourning with me. And cheers to our middle school spirits and the albums of our youths!

2K15. Phoebe’s Comeback Tour.

2K15. Phoebe’s Comeback Tour.

It’s been months, guys. Months. Admittedly, I lost the blogging mojo in the crazy that was the end of 2K14, and Phoebegoeswest has been collecting cobwebs. I admit it. But, to all of those who were once loyal followers, or at least to those trollers out there who serendipitously stumbled upon Phoebegoeswest at some point…well, I say this to you, first and foremost:

Pleading, Rose Dawson, and heart-shattering-tin-whistling background music aside, I’ve really missed this, and vow to try and give the 2K15 Phoebe Comeback Tour my old college try.

I’ve decided that I’m really digging some positive change in 2015. It’s a great number first off, and who doesn’t love a good multiple of 5?

Anyway, being a keen observer* of the new-agey, social-mediay meow cats that we are in this new year (*by keen observer, I mean I have a Facebook page), I have noticed that lists are really hot these days. You know what I’m talking about. There are the Gif-filled lists advertising the weird shit that pugs do or the endless abyss of lists about man buns. There are the Elite-Daily-esque lists, which are a basic betch’s ten commandments and tell us, repeatedly, the 100 things we absolutely MUST do before we turn 30. <<These lists generally feature an inspirational picture of the girl-next-door-actuallyjustkiddingI’mKateMoss-type of lady doing a yoga pose, (which, the mere thought of would cause the average human to crumple back into savasana and call it a day), while the sun is setting on a mountaintop.

But anyway, the main reason I even brought it up is because I don’t want to be left behind in this age of bullet points and numbering, and I want to make a list of my own. So, here is to leap-of-faithing into this awesome multiple of a year, and starting it with a soul-bloggin’ list of Six Things that I Learned about in 2014.

1. Your Palate can Change:

I hated olives in 2013. Hated ‘em. My dad and I used to call them, “grapes with a bad attitude.” And then somewhere between spending time in Europe and having my host mom choke those salty little punks down my throat every few days, I started to love the little rascals. I mean it. I’ve bought several containers chalked full of olives in 2014. My dad still hates them. And I still mostly hate black olives, but crazy how taste can change, you know? I spent 21 years learning to hate those chewy little guys, only to unlearn it all in the past year.

Former relationship with olives.

Anyway, I guess there is a bigger picture message here about how interests and people can change, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing at all.

2. You’re going to get gum on the bottom of your shoe.. or worse.

There was seriously a 3-week period where, between my house and friends out here, at least one person stepped in dog poop or gum a week. And, you know what, it sucks. But make that loud, sticky march to the bathroom or that smelly walk of shame to the nearest patch of grass and wipe it off. And move on. Because that’s life, yo.

And remember, it can always be worse.

3. “Let it Go”

One of the first people I met in Seattle introduced me to a poem by Mary Oliver, called In Blackwater Woods. The poem is really beautiful, and I especially love the last few lines:

I think about those lines a lot in my daily life. For me, this has been my first year out of college. It’s the first full year where I am not living in the proximity of my family and most of my best friends. It’s the first year that I don’t lead that flexible college schedule that permitted mid-week benders and sleeping late on a weekday. And to top off the crazy, I decided to move to Seattle, Washington, where I knew no one. I don’t regret any of it. But, in this whirlwind of a year, I’ve encountered my fair share of loss. Whether it’s the void in my life when I remember that I fall 2,000 miles outside of the delivery zones of my favorite pizza places in Ann Arbor, or it’s a more rattling loss, a loss of interest or passion, a loss that redefines friendships, relationships, or personal perspectives, the conclusion I ‘ve drawn is that loss is an inevitable part of moving forward.

Mary Oliver and the new Disney classic, Frozen, say it well: “Let it go.” In my year of losses and gains, the biggest truth I have drawn is that letting go can be liberating. And it doesn’t mean forgetting either. Honoring our past, but recognizing change and allowing ourselves to shred what has the potential to slow our forward motion is healthy (and very 2K15). So here’s to loving what is mortal and appreciating the beauty of now and what it took to get to “now,” and letting go of some of the excess along the way.

4. Friends who Karaoke together stay together.

 My friends and I went out to karaoke several months ago, while our friendships were still blossoming, and I happened to capture this raw, and beautiful clip on camera. And by on camera, I basically mean, on audio, because you can’t actually see anything. But the moral here is, I think you know you’ve got a true friend when they are willing to give you the honest truth about your karaoke performance, and then you can shake it off and sing “I’ll make a man out of you.”

5. Humble bragging is for weenies.

Don’t be a humble bragger. And please, don’t be a humble bragger who follows up with #blessed. Please.

via http://www.backstage.com

6. And lastly, it doesn’t matter where you are, but who you’re with

Seriously, it doesn’t matter. Sure, I love a great venue as much as the next guy, but sometimes a bottle of wine and a comfy couch or the BDub’s Happy Hour where you are surrounded by families eating smiley fries and awkward high school cliques are the greatest places to be, dependent on the company.

See how happy we look?

That said, being in an awesome place with an awesome person can be pretty neat. Here are some of my fav people and I doing our end of 2014 thing.

On that polaroid 2K15 hustle

Thriftin with mah main girl, ABU

Bench warming with a cool cat

my people

homies

PBR & paper bags

new years, new friends, old friends

da roomz

Thanks for the lessons, the good times, the new friends and the old, 2014. Here’s to 2K15.

-Phoebe

 

Phoebe, Bomm-Bomm & the Gang do Sports Ball

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted. And while most of you might think it’s because I’ve found my Tindered Spirit, it’s actually because I found the show True Detective. I just couldn’t stop. Anyway, I’m finished with that for the time being, so I’ll give you a little update about the first half of my weekend.

Let’s start on Friday. Friday night, I heavily lobbied for going to Nacho Borracho to start the night off. Which, as always, was a really solid move. And I ordered an Avocado Marg & Totachos, because, so good. And then we headed to the Unicorn. Which is a super Cap Hill bar. And Bomm-Bomm, Alex and I took SO MANY PRETTY PICTURES. Just look:

Not too shabby. From left to right: Phoebe, Alex and Bomm-Bomm

And then I got pretty into modeling, and went for the effortlessly beautiful, ‘blurred hand behind the head’ pose

And then I tried the awkward lean pose (instant classic)

Which, naturally, turned into this.

And then I regained my composure and decided to ruin yet another picture with only one half of my face

And then that damn flash brought out my Blue Steel (And Alex’s)

And that’s all she wrote. About the Unicorn, at least.

But obviously, based on my title, most of you are probably tuning in to hear about Bomm-Bomm and Phoebe’s big day out to watch sports ball. And on Saturday’s sports ball agenda was the Mariners. And Bomm-Bomm and I were about this excited about watching the Mariner’s game:

We just couldn’t.

So we made our way over to Safeco Field for the big day. BUT. (and this is important) On Bomm-Bomm’s and my way over to the field we ran into a tour bus in front of a club in Capitol Hill called Neumos.  Said tour bus was swarming with teenage clones. And I didn’t get a picture because I was so overwhelmed and a little scared, but I’m serious about the clone thing. There were like 50 high school girls who looked like they robbed the same exact Urban Outfitter’s mannequin standing outside of a tour bus. And the tour bus read, “Kalin and Myles.” So of course, because Bomm Bomm and I are trying to stay hip and with the times, we looked them up, only to find this beaut.

So here are four things I just want to focus on with regard to this whole Kalin and Myles business. 1.) How, and I quote from about every other word in the song, “turnt” they are. 2.) Myles is spending almost the entire music video getting a Macklemore haircut. 3.) Their tour is called the, “Chasing Dreams Tour” and 4.) 1:01 in the video.

LOL. Let’s move on.

We got a little distracted on the way and stopped into Elysian Brewery on the way to the game. And sat in this little nook, that looked very VIP to a pretty poor human, like me. And by VIP, I mean there were fish tanks. The whole encounter felt very rags to fishes. Bad joke. Moving on again.

And then we walked to the game.

And Bomm-Bomm and I found our seats. And we were SO ready to watch some sports ball.

So after being avid Mariner’s fans, we decided to meet back up with the gang at the beer garden at the bottom of the sixth.

And if you think, for even just a minute, that Phoebe’s gang isn’t as cool as Kalin and Myles, you are wrong okay. You’re just wrong. Look below for how simultaneously hip and gangster they can be. (Note: the du-rags may or may not be the free Mariners towels provided to us at the door. And it’s still very Wutang of them to wear #blessed #turnt #KalinandMyles)

   

And, no, we might not attract teenage clones as fans. But we do attract really nice ladies like this:

oh snap, here comes a fan

So take that Kalin and Myles. Anyway. I don’t know why I got so fixated on that. What happened next is Ross bought cotton candy and turned everyone’s teeth blue. The effect was something like this:

image courtesy of :
http://tattooedbroad.tumblr.com/post/20001115398

Well, maybe it was more like this:

sharing

And I’m really trying to think of a way to make this whole post come together and have some deeper meaning about post millenial rap stars, friends, beer, baseball and cotton candy. BUT writers block. So instead, I will leave you with the next best thing. Which is, of course, a Sportsball information station on a Segway.

#prayerhands #blessed

And I actually changed my mind and decided to end this post with a flashback video of my own dear family on segways from June of 2013.

You are all very welcome.

God Bless,

Phoebe

Phoebe Tries to Find her Tindered Spirit

Sometimes I like to play tinder. Which, I recognize as I write this post is probably something that should not be admitted on the world wide web. And is probably even furthering my forever singlehood. But, I feel like, based on the number of mirror sefies I have swiped through since downloading this oddly addicting app, there are enough humans out there who also occasionally play tinder that perhaps we can all take a moment here and reflect on this cyber match-maker that uses the only criteria people ever really needed to find their soul-mates, a Facebook profile picture. And it’s a pretty serious app, because after you establish that you are both on the same caliber of physical attractiveness, you can delve into the more important things, like religion, politics, what have you:

Anyway, a little history. I downloaded Tinder on a sunny day in Seattle back in June, when I had no friends and too much time on my hands, and I figured, “Hey, today seems like a perfect day to meet my soulmate.” And I touch screened my way to the app store and hit download. Since that time, however, I have not found my soulmate and, rather, I have lost about 99% of faith in humanity because, I did not realize how many people do not know the proper use of homonyms (They’re/their/there GUYS COME ON), and I also did not realize the astounding number of people who write, “people” as “ppl.” Seriously Generation Y, I thought we cut that shit out around the same time that we stopped using AIM. I digress.

Anyway, I’ve actually only gone on a whopping one, “Tinder date,” if you will, and I would give it about a 7/10. And the main reason I deducted points lies in the giant problem of putting all of our soul-mate stake on a profile picture. And that problem is height. And well, the guy I went on a Tinder date with was, I’d say 4’11”-maybe 5’1 on a good day. And he just couldn’t be nicer, it was a great time, except, there I was at a whopping 5’8″ feeling like I had scoliosis by about hour 2 because I was so focused on hunching over at the bar so that we could speak within 2 inches of each other. But the worst part was the goodbye. I mean, goodbyes after any date are pretty awkward I would say, but this goodbye really took the cake.  And it went something like this. We finished our drinks and the check was paid, and it was generally assumed that our date was reaching its end. So we stood up from our barstools, (and my back sighed a few cracks of relief that I was done pretending to be Quasimodo), and I was back to feeling like an Amazonian next to my Tinder nugget. That’s when I realized I had about 20 seconds to figure out how to execute this goodbye. My first instinct: a hug. It’s a classic, warm, but platonic, way to go about saying goodbye. Except then I realized that in order to go with the embrace and race exit strategy I would either have to get into full squat or full hunch position. Both seemed super awkward. 15 seconds. Next idea: a handshake. No. No. We did not just sign a business deal together, the hand shake was out of question. 10 seconds. A friendly wave? No. Lord, no. So in my remaining 5 seconds, I panicked. I half went in for the hug, but I didn’t fully commit, and it ended up looking more like a painfully awkward curtsey. And then, I did it. And I just pray that there were minimal eye witnesses, because I just can’t handle walking the streets of Capitol Hill knowing that people out there might remember this moment. I pat his back. And I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. I curtseyed and pat him on the back. I honestly don’t know what came over me.

Let’s move on. Anyway, after that horribly failed date, I’ve resorted to mostly just using Tinder, the way I use, say Instagram. As an occasional time-killer on public transit or on a lunch break.

And because I am a natural conversationalist, I usually start off strong- with something like this

So for those of you who couldn’t follow the intellectual depth of the above conversation, I will translate it in layman’s terms :

Me: “Hi, I’m Phoebe. I love pizza. And so many slices of it.”

Tinder: “Hi, Phoebe. Want to go for a ride on my canoe? Who am I kidding, of course you do!”

Tinder: “Sorry, did I say my canoe? I meant my super fast speed boat!”

Me: “Sounds neat, do your Grandma and Grandpa live nearby and enjoy fishing?”

And I would say generally, I don’t even reach the message phase of most of my right swipes, because, mostly, I’m vain and I love just the actual game part of tinder. The game part being how fast I can judge a person’s face. But, of course, I will occasionally sift through the message part. And some people, it’s just like, why? A few examples below.

Why don’t you ask yourself that, and try again.

Oh, I’m sorry, I must have missed that you were a leprechaun in your about me.

BUT THE ACTUAL WORST

Hey there. You’re gross and I hate you.

So that always kind of just ruins it for everybody. But even worse than that, is when you occasionally take the 18 seconds it requires to respond to a Tinder human and they do this to you:

You are literally more vain than me, and that story wasn’t funny.

But I would say a majority of my conversations go something like this:

And I feel pretty good about that.

So, as I reach the end of this post, I guess the take away message is that it’s not always easy to find your tindered spirit. And there are a lot of things out there making it really hard, including but not limited to: mirror selfies, faceless pictures, bad grammar, and more generally, the internet. So I leave you with this, Generation Y. Don’t lose hope. You never know when you might swipe right on a catch like this.

God speed with the swiping my friends.

-Phoebe

A Thrown-back Thursday

It started raining today in Seattle. A statement to which, I would assume, the general public would respond, “Thank you Captain Obvious.” Except, it really hasn’t been raining since I moved to Seattle, and I guess the way weather patterns work around here, it really doesn’t start raining until summer is over. And that’s when I got all nostalgic and sad and realized that somehow summer is over. And if I wasn’t an old maiden these days, I would be back at college, dancing on tables and drinking the glorified hooch that the kids these days call, “Jungle Juice.” It would look something like this:

Phoebe cerca 2010

But, somehow, 2010 turned into 2014, and June turned into September, and in a passage of time that feels as quick as my first college game of flip cup, I find myself on a completely new adventure, living in Seattle (in the fall). And I think when it started raining today, there was a feeling that stuck in the air, about as much as the frizz from my bad hair day did, that this isn’t just another study abroad trip or summer job. This is my new home. And that is awesome, bittersweet, weird and exciting all at the same time. So if you all haven’t jumped in front of buses at what a total Nostalgic Nancy I’ve been so far, I promise this rainy day post is generally pretty sunny.

And where I want to direct this post to now, is my best memories of summer, beginning with the end of my time in Michigan with my best friends in the widest of worlds, to my new home, here in Seattle. And as much as I am ashamed that I am joining the horrendously overdone bandwagon of throwback Thursday, I think since Phoebegoeswest.com has not been around as long as Phoebe has been west, it seems like the right thing to do.

So starting from the end of my collegiate career, here is good ole memory número uno:

1.) Graduation Time 

From left to right: Lady Bligh (Abby), Phoebe (Paige), Jersey (Cassey), Lamey (Amy), and Frankie (Jannelle)                     Photo Cred: Our Dear Friend Shmelsea

Photo Cred: Our Dear Friend Shmelsea

Photo Cred: Our Dear Friend Shmelsea

Photo Cred: Our Dear Friend Shmelsea

So I’m all waterworks over here looking at these pics again. I was super lucky to get to spend my last year of lollege living with my best friends and partners in crime. I cannot freaking wait until we can once more reunite and submerge underground into the sweaty dungeon that is Rick’s American Cafe and hit the dance stage. But because I’m on a sappy role, I would like to elaborate on how great my pals are.

Lady Bligh/ Abu Congdon and I met in Organic Chemistry lab sophomore year, and it was one of the most splendid, game-changing things that has ever happened to me. Somehow, even though we arguably might have been underprepared for approximately every lab, we managed to be like the only 2 students in the whole class whose experiments ever actually worked,(we are still uncertain as to why). And when that happened we would spend the rest of class eating food at the bake sales that were always happening in the Chemistry Building. And our best friendship only got better from there.

The Molinas (Frankie/Jannelle in the middle, Shmesshica/Jessica on the right). I don’t even know where to begin with these two. Let’s see. I first met Jessica Freshman year of college, and quickly fell in love. And apparently it was mutual, because a few weeks later she abducted me while I was studying with my calculus group. And I give her mad props for being my friend, because I was still at a point in my life where I thought that this would be a perfect outfit for a night on the town (See photo below)

Really cool T-shirt/sweater vest combo, I know. Anyway, now that I’m sufficiently embarrassed, I would like to continue on bragging about how good my friends are. And the next friend I would like to introduce is my dear, dear partner in crime Frankie, to whom I owe my own nickname, Phoebe. And I think eventually I will need to do a full write up on that lil shit I call my best frand because it will make my blog name and a lot of things make more sense. I think. So anyway, this is Frankie on graduation.

Next in line is Lamey. And Lamey will always hold such a special place in my ole corazon because she was really there for me when shit got real my freshman year of college. She was also my first friend that I met in college- in Wei Zhang’s Calculus/Mandarin 1 course, and she has always been a person that I can tell literally anything to. And bless her soul because she has probably had SO MANY seriously TMI Phoebe moments, but she never judges me and I always feel like I picked a real warm fuzzy after our chats.

Don’t mind my hair

So I could expand on my friends so much more, but I have to focus on the meat and potatoes of this post which is where I show you my favorite memories of summer. So now that I have moved past my time in Michigan, here begins my memories since embarking west.

2. The car ride west with Kev

Kev-man, aka my dad, is the coolest. Like he’s really the coolest. He’s pretty damn goony at times, but I consider him my best friend, and we share the same taste in music (and his musical knowledge is off the chain) and humor and so much more, and I am really so lucky to call him dad. –I’d like to pause and say wowie wowie I don’t know why I have so many feels going on today, but just go with my sappiness– So anyway, when I found out that I was going to be going on a 39 hour car ride, and he was going to be my companion, I was pretty stoked. There are few people in this world who can actually get me geeked about going to the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota, and, well, Kev is one of them. So here’s our roadtrip.

the beginning. drink that coffee, dad, it’s going to be a long ride

The Bad Lands

Our last stop to Seattle

So by the time we reached Seattle, our photo game was really on a roll. And we decided that obviously the next move would be to bring our tourist A-game to the new town.

Welp, I put those on the world wide web forever. Who knows- Maybe Kev and I will be featured in the next awkward family photo book. Big break anyone?!

3. My Birthday

Of COURSE my birthday made the list of all things awesome. So for my birthday, I decided to be all PNW and buy myself some hiking boots. Let me revise that, my parents bought me some hiking boots- thanks padres. And I went for my first real hike out here, and it was a game changer.

AND THEN. I got home and a man came to my door asking where Phoebe was. And I was so utterly confused, because I wasn’t aware that I had friends in Seattle yet, let alone ones that knew of Phoebe. But turns out he was a pizza man, bringing me a special pizza from Frankie and Jess!

And I should also shout out to my roommates and their friends who threw me a mojito party. And to Linda, who gave me a giant chocolate cake, which I made my 3 square meals for the next week. #fitness

4. Cribbage with Jeremy

One of the first people I met when I moved to Seattle is Jeremy, who is a barista at Victrola coffee on my street

Victrola

And Jeremy is one of the most interesting people to talk to. He is super smart, and knows a shit ton about symbols and philosophy, and he is also a very talented musician. So one day, shortly after I moved here, he invited me to play cribbage at Volunteer Park, which is just down the road. And I was totally stoked because 1.) I made a friend, and 2.) I hadn’t played croquet since I was a kid and I was pumped. –Did you catch that I said croquet just there? Yeah, totally different than cribbage. Which is a math based card game. So you can imagine my shock when I arrived at Volunteer Park ready to mallot away, only to learn that cribbage was in fact a card game. But eventually I got the hang of it, and it is so fun.

5.  The day I went to the beach with Dallas

Madison Park Beach is the greatest people watching beach spot ever. It is full of children, families, and plenty of things children should never see. One day while at Madison Park Beach with friends, someone who will always hold a significant part in my first summer in Seattle, stumbled upon the blanket where we were sitting. And that person is Dallas. That night we ended up staying at Madison Park Beach until sunset, and everyone else played guitars and sang. And I sat and occasionally hummed, because that’s about all I can bring to the musical table these days. I should also note that Dallas is also an incredibly gifted musician, and has a way of bringing people together with his gift. Don’t believe me? Check it out here.  Anyway, about a month after that first meeting at Madison Park Beach, we went back with a couple of friends, and it was just one of those perfect summer days with nothing to do and nowhere to be, except exactly where we already were.

Photo credit goes to Dylan- I stole it from his insta

6. The day I met the owners at Flowers on 15th

Flowers on 15th is this adorable flower shop on my street that I had meant to pop inside from the day I set foot in Seattle, but I didn’t get around to actually going in until last month. And I’m SO glad I did.  Carolyn and Alex, who run the place, could not have been more genuine and kind people. I don’t even think I had realized how much I was starting to get a little homesick when I walked into the store, and they immediately made it feel like a home on my street.  Alex even gave me a pretty little plant that is still sitting in my windowsill. And as it turns out, Alex is from Grand Rapids, MI too, and we ended up having a wonderful chat. And I left all blubbery and happy that good people like them exist. Small world. Great people. Gorgeous flowers.

7. The day my best friend ever came to visit: “YES, SHE DID”

I can’t even express how excited I was when my favorite little goober came to visit Seattle.  Where to begin with Maeve. Well, for starters, I usually call her Mushu, because she wouldn’t stop watching Mulan cerca 2000. And we also have a tendency to create some really funny to us, obnoxious to the general public, one-liner inside jokes that we are not afraid to use over and over and over. I guess this trip, the phrase that was running like a broken record was, “Yes, she does,” (said in our best Bob Dylan singing voice). And that started, because upon picking Maeve up from the airport, “Just Like a Woman,” by Bob came on- listen to the song if you aren’t following here- and I proceeded to ask Maeve if she was hungry and wanted to get food, to which she responded in a long Dylan drawl, “Yes I dooooo.”

So our conversations for the next three days went something like this:

“Mushu, do you want to wake up early tomorrow and go to the Market?”

“Yes she doeeessss”

or,

“Did you guys want to place that pizza order for delivery?”

“Yes we doooo”

You get the idea.

             And while she was here we had a photoshoot

Phoebe photography

Phoebe photography

And she’s so pretty and just the best.

8. The first time I tried an Avocado Margarita. You heard right. 

So by this point in time, if you have even made it here, you are probably concerned about what a rainy day sap ball I’m being. Which is why I am going to clinch this memorabilia in true-to-Phoebe-form. And that is by concluding with the day I found Nacho Borracho. And you are probably also thinking, ‘wow Phoebe, that’s a rather fat ass way to end.’ And I completely agree, and would like to draw your attention to two very important things about Nacho Borracho. 1.) Avocado Margaritas 2.) Totachos. (That’s TATOR TOT NACHOS people. I repeat. TATOR TOT NACHOS)

ON THE RIGHT

You are welcome for that. Visit me in Seattle and totachos on me.

Peace, Love, and Pizza/Totachos,

Phoebe

Phoebe Rides a Beer Bicycle and Meets a War Veteran

Hello, everyone.

So first things first, the finger is healing great, thanks for all the love. I actually think there might be one speckle of mac glass remaining, but I really don’t want any more shots. But like seriously, I don’t want anymore shots. I had two more shots today, to be all immune and healthy and whatever. And I’m just done, okay. If September shot month wants to continue it’s going to have to switch to Tequila, end of story.

So anyway, today I want to flashback to Saturday, when I rode on a 16 person beer-mobile. It was like the Flintstones car met Seattle-hipster-microbrew culture, which I think we can all agree is a hilariously awesome combination. We went for my roomie Katie’s birthday, and I’m telling you, it was a riot. In fact, it was such a riot, I showed my buddy in the Emergency Room these pictures and he showed the attending physician, and bada bing bada boom, all the doctors want to cycle saloon sometime. And naturally I called dibs, because I showed them, and they said I can come. And I get immense satisfaction at the visual of me and the ER docs flinstoning our way from brewery to brewery in Seattle. I wonder if one of them will let me borrow their stethoscope. They better actually invite me.

But dreams aside, here is the cycle saloon

Our Designated Biker

And due to a mild directional mix-up, we might have just taken cabs to stop one- Bad Jimmy’s. Which, based on my swass after pedaling the other links of this cycle saloon, may have been for the best.

And we pedaled from Bad Jimmy’s to Stoup

the whole gang

And then to Hale’s

And at this particular bar, love was in the air. I mean couples shots were being taken left and right

Katie and Ian

Katie and Emma

Sam and Thomas

Naturally, I got jealous and wanted one too. So using my extreme wit and charm I scanned Hale’s Ales until I found the perfect man target.

Phoebe and Lee

Turns out, my new boyfriend, Lee, is also a World War II veteran, and he is 93 years old. AND he’s freaking hilarious. Like so funny. He made me switch sides for our pictures so that he could show off  his “George Clooney looks.” Which, normally I would be really mad about, but turns out our good sides lined up perfectly, furthering our power couple status. AND GET THIS- He blogs too. He is 93 stinkin years old and blogs. And he has a business card. And he wrote a book.

Best boyfriend I ever did have. Unfortunately, he ordered a sandwich and the Beer Bicycle couldn’t wait for him. So we parted ways, but I read through his blog, and it’s pretty impressive.

So anyway, we hopped back on the brew bicycle for our last link.

And by this point, I was really thinking safety first.

And we ended and George & Dragon Pub…

That waitress is making CASH MONEY

…which is where I found the second cutest thing to Lee. And by that, I of course mean a buff man and a puppy.

THOSE BICEPS. THAT PUPPY

No surprise here, I got real basic, and did this

And I call the next three photos in this series: “Three times that Steffi (on the left) can’t even handle the cuteness of mini-husky-and-Phoebe’s photo shoot”

And can you blame Steffi? I mean look at us go

so natural

so fierce

And then the birthday girl got in on the adorableness

Ugh, so cute. I’m pulling a Steffi over here

And then we went to Volunteer park for a picnic

Did I mention we were hanging out with an outfit-coordinating boy band all day?

Because we were

We’ve NEVER looked better

And I call this next series of photos, the time that Phoebe was being so rude and so oblivious to Katie and Ian attempting to take a nice couples pic in the park. Sorry guys.

oh, just me in the way

Oh, what? Someone wants to take a picture?

Okay, I’m leaning back. TOTALLY out of the way. Go for it guys!

Wait, wait. Time out. I forgot my Rainer that I absolutely need to be double fisting right at this very moment

But eventually it all worked out

So, from a great brew-hoppin crew to beer bicycles to boyfriends to buff men and puppies, it was a pretty rad Saturday.

And I would like to take a moment to leave you with an old Irish blessing, “May the road rise to meet you, may the wind always be at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, and may the Rainier fall softly upon your fields… ”

Have a great Tuesday everybody.

-Phoebe

Phoebe Goes to Urgent Care

This morning, I am writing to you all from my murderous laptop, which betrayed me yesterday. Let me start from the beginning. Yesterday morning, I woke up, made some coffee and eggs, and prepared to embark on a journey around my neighborhood here in Capitol Hill. And I did just that, for awhile.

But then, I decided to go to a favorite coffee shop of mine, Roy Street Coffee &Tea, which is where this cheerful morning took a turn for the dark side. And it happened quickly. I ordered an iced green tea, “for here,” without knowing I wouldn’t be staying, and I took my refreshing bev out to the front patio, opened my laptop, and noticed that my screen looked a little dusty. Okay, so I should probably add that, yes, my Mac has a cracked screen, secondary to an incident that occurred back in Ann Arbor. However, I did not think that lying in between those cracks were carnivorous little shards of Mac glass just waiting to destroy my finger. But they were. And it took about one swipe of my formerly unscathed fingers across the screen to cause a horribly embarrassing and bloody scene in front of a really attractive man and his dog, named Douglass, also sitting on the front patio. So I asked the attractive man if him and Douglass could watch my stuff while I bled all over Roy Street Coffee & Tea, to which he graciously agreed, and that’s when I realized that there were shards all up in my right middle finger.

So, I ran back to attractive male and Douglass, and he helped me pack my belongings and sent me off on my way for help. I ran home and tried to tweeze my fingers- No luck. My left hand is about as good as a raptor hand when it comes to usefulness. So, I asked my roommate. Still no luck, and this is when I was rushed to the Urgent Care Clinic, courtesy of my roommate Tyler.

So, I walk a couple of blocks down Broadway to the Urgent Care Clinic- and I should note, there are few times in life when you can wave a middle finger in the face of that person trying to aggressively shove fliers in your face on a street corner, and still have it be acceptable. And when your finger is bleeding profusely, well it’s one of those times.. and it’s awesome. That aside, I reached the urgent care clinic, and warning, the next few images are graphic.

why mac, why?

So then, the doctor treating me is all, “yup, we’re going to need a digital block on this one.” And I’m all “Betch, WHUT. I work in the ER and I’ve seen the size of those needles.” For those of you who don’t know what a digital block is, it’s a lidocaine and marcaine injection that numbs you up. And it is administered through this bad boy

So that happened. Approximately 10 times. But the good news is, afterwards I felt, like really good, and could watch them scalpel and poke away at my finger in peace.

finger post digital blockage

get it girl

But then it was all done, and I got to leave looking like the world’s most obnoxious human ever.

So ultimately, I feel the message I should leave you with is this: When life gives you Mac shards, give the world a blue & white compression bandaged bird and go get some pizza and beer.

welp

I’d also like to give a shout out to all the awesome people out there who really supported me through my time of need

thanks, mom

And best of all,

^^^ Disclaimer: After much negotiating (see photo below)

She finally agreed to let me include the screenshot under the condition that I state this:

“The above screenshot was only placed for comedic relief of my terrible wound. The photo is not representative of the subject in question. The actual human who sent this picture generally bears no resemblance to a grandmother, turtle or troll and in fact looks like this:”

Phoebe Photography

Phoebe Photography

So anyway, I think that’s really all I have to say about that. TGIF, AMIRIGHT?

Columbia is GORGES

Because I did not want to overwhelm everyone with how simultaneously urban and outdoorsy I can be, in my last post about my trip to Portland, I decided to wait and save a post about the Columbia Gorges for, well, today. I would also like to take a moment to reflect on the extremely punny title I drafted for this blog post… that I might have stolen from Ithaca, New York. And, I might have a sticker on my laptop that makes the title even less clever.

I’m either pitiful or witty-ful

But, anyway. Onto the meat of this bloggage, which is the part where I wow you all with just how Pacific-Northwest I am these days. And in all seriousness, upon leaving Portland, I google-mapped all the way to the first yelp-reviewed highway stop for the Columbia Gorges, hiked a solid 3 miles up, realized that I don’t think the trail ever really ended, and I hiked back down. Call me Emile Hirsch from Into the Wild. And this is more or less, the chronology of photos from my extremely outdoorsy approximate hour and a half at the Columbia Gorges. 

I would prefer that on the above two photos we focus more on the surrounding beauty, and less on my awkwardly crinkled shirt. Thanks. Impressive, huh? I thought so too. What I didn’t capture photographically of this adventure was getting extraordinarily lost on the way back to Seattle and spending WAY more time in Mount Hood, Oregon than I could have ever dreamed. Or planned. And also, while in Mount Hood, I was totally about to text all of my friends telling them that some dumb lady was attempting to siphon gas out of my car, at a GAS STATION, while I was SITTING IN MY CAR, until I realized that Oregon pumps gas for you; and said dumb lady was, in fact, me, and not the gas station attendant wondering who the dip-shit not unlocking her gas tank was. So I leave you with that.

Love,

Phoebe

Sea…HAWKS

Sorry Detroit Lions,

I’ve moved on, and since you never really brought home the bacon, and I do love bacon, I have changed my loyalty over to the Seahawks (don’t worry Red Wings, I’ll always stay true). Anyway, I didn’t have bacon, but I did have chicken nachos and I also made a 44-year-old friend named Mark, who guarded them. Not bad for a Thursday.

Anyway, here are some pics, and go Seahawks.

Love,

Phoebe

just a few friends

If I could go back in time, I would be in this picture and it would make a lot more sense

not my best pic and yes, i did change into a seahawks shirt at halftime. Double embarassing

And I leave you with this couple, who so beautifully and drunkenly prove, that love knows no boundaries- or team affiliations

A Dream of the 90’s is Alive in Portland

I decided to start my first blog post, covering my recent journey to Portland, with the ultimate cliché- a link and title referencing Portlandia. And I don’t regret it because the song is funny, and I saw like 12 choker necklaces that I rocked the shit out of in 3rd grade, so it doesn’t seem totally erroneous. I’m actually not kidding about the chokers though. I walked from the airbnb place I was staying at to the bus stop on the second day I was there, and I passed by a high school; a high school comprised essentially of everything I could have ever dreamed of being circa 1998. And I feel good about that.

Clichés aside, I absolutely loved Portland. It is a lot smaller than Seattle (where I currently reside), which surprised me a little, but I was also surprised by how big Seattle was upon hopping off I-90 West back in June, so I digress. I stayed in the South East Side, in the Division-Clinton area, which was a really interesting and up & coming neighborhood. A famous thai restaurant, Pok Pok, has drawn a lot of foot traffic to Divison street, and within the last few years a bunch of bars, microbreweries and food trucks have moved in, creating an eclectic little neighborhood in SE Portland.

Another stop on Division St.

Food trucks

Four words about this joint: chocolate gooey brownie ice-cream.

Honorable mentions for the Division/Clinton neighborhood, for which I do not have pics, go out to my new pals Rob at Imperial Bottle Shop & Taproom and Jenny at The American Local, both great places to grab a drink. Also, fun fact about Oregon. Any place that sells spirits is also required to sell meals, and not just potato chips and slim jims behind the bar, like actual meals, so a lot of the bars also have great food—added bonus. Although I am also told some clubs literally have five varieties of TV Dinners in the freezer, simply to meet the requirement.  Another interesting fact. Portland is known for it’s strip clubs, no mom and dad, I didn’t go to one, but Jenny from American Local told me that apparently the strip club Acropolis has one of the best steaks in town. Reason being, the owner, apparently also owns a giant ranch and serves his own fine beef along side his own fine…dancers? ‘MURICA.

So, anyway, because it would seem, based on this post thus far, that I have no other interests besides food, I am going to continue with the theme. Which leads me to another great area in Portland is Hawthorne street, where I found some BOMB Mexican food at ¿Por Qué No? Taquería

Mhmm.

(Emphasis Pic)

😥

Now, I am going to throw a non-food curve ball at you for a hot second, and show you more pictures that I took on my stroll down Hawthorne, mostly to impress you with my non-food related interests.

Powell’s Books, a Portland original/legend

and you know it’s good because they have a ladder, all Belle from Beauty and the Beast-ish

Richard Wright on a wall. love this one

Virginia on a wall

Now that I’ve covered Division & Hawthorne, let’s move along frog to the Pearl District/Downton. Shout out to my roommate Katie for the recommendation on NW 23rd street, because there are some seriously awesome boutiques round thurr. Also, because it’s me, Phoebe, speaking, there’s also some seriously awesome food around.

Lovejoy Bakery- right in the Pearl D

In the words of Joe Cocker, “You are so beautiful…to me”

cute local brew

So, this is the part where I found it. And by it, I can only mean…

VOODOO DONUTS

Good things come in pink boxes.

For the win. What’s your fav donut? Suggestions appreciated for my many impending future visits.

Now that I’ve covered Division, Hawthorne, and Pearl District/ Downtown. I will conclude my tour de Portland with what may be my favorite neck of the woods, Alberta Arts District.

Love this

the only evidence that I did, in fact go to Portland

I will Portland. Thank you.

if you say so, Little Big Burger

Pretty content in Back to Eden bakery with a good read.

That’s a sampling of Alberta- such a fun and walkable area.

Last but not least, here are a few pics of the AWESOME place I stayed at in Portland.

It’s been real. I’ll try and include more people pics in da future. But for now, I leave you with this