Round-Up at the Wild West End

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I’ve been spending a fair amount of time in Portland’s West End, so I thought I’d do a brief update on some of the things I’ve been writing about. As I started writing, I noticed a barnyard theme forming, so I’m going to roll with it.

I still haven’t seen the naked biker chick. Although, two weeks after I wrote about it, the Oregonian picked up on the story. Call me Scoop Jackson. (Thanks again to my anonymous photographer. I won’t tell the wife, I promise!) Roll on, Gen, roll on!

According to Willamette Week, Ray’s Ragtime was visited by Cindy Williams of Laverne and Shirley fame. (Did you know Squiggy used to be part owner of the Portland Beavers? And Lenny is a founding member of Spinal Tap? “Big bottom, big bottom”…) In unrelated musical news, Kid Rock really hates waiting in traffic, so he got a police escort to St. Helens. I always assumed it would be an escort out of town. “Cowboy…”

After reading about toys and grown-ups, I paid a visit to Finnegan’s and bought a rubber chicken. Why are rubber chickens so damned funny? I have a thing for chickens… I also bought a pair of $1.50 squirt guns; defense weapons for the wild critters roaming my house.

I spent a little time with Geno, getting the latest dirt on Peterson’s. The store is staying, at least until they tear the structure down to build another one just like it. Geno has taken the SavePetersons.com site and converted it to PetersonsPortland.com. (Thie site is in transition as I write this, so if you can’t get on, give it a few hours and try again.) He’s put up customer profiles, product info and other assorted funsies. Now that the conflict with city hall has been resolved, the gang at Peterson’s can get back to hawking snacks, smokes and magazines. The MAX platform was empty at 9 PM, I swear I saw a tumbleweed roll by. The sketchiest looking guy had a ferret in his pocket, but he was allowed to shop, as long as the ferret stayed in the pocket. He was followed by the amiable security guard, and the whole thing was caught on closed-circuit TV. Eventually, Geno wants to have the security cameras linked online, so anyone can look into the store whenever they like.

The Darwin Award winner who fell off the third floor of the parking garage? Still dead. The bright spot who went swimming at midnight wearing Doc Marten’s? Also still dead.

One of the reasons I was at the West End? I had to meet a certain girl to make a cell phone payment. (Some guys pay child support. I pay technical support.) My reward? I got moo cards! WTF are moo cards, you ask? (I didn’t know either, until I got one.) Little tiny business cards with the website and related URLs. I’m official! I’m in the club! I swear, Ringo Starr’s (All I got to do is) Act Naturally started playing in my head. What a great earworm to carry through the evening.

As I handed her the cash, I said, “You’re just gonna spend it all on beer, aren’t you?”

“Probably. Got a problem with that?” Feisty, isn’t she?

“Why, yes I do, actually. But you go have fun anyway!”

So thass what’s happening in the wild west end. Y’all come on down and say howdy, ya hear!

I’ll be moseying along now…