I’ve had an online presence for about a decade. I’ll even admit it: I was on HotorNot. Friendster. FacetheJury. They got old. These days it’s on to Facebook, Myspace, Twitter and a blog. Well, it was Facebook. But as of this morning, they’re mad at me. So, rather than throw up a half-assed new one, I’m dipping out. (To my 768 friends, I still love you!)
It’s almost like God is giving me a bunch of extra time to work on my projects. Funny thought though, because the farther you go down that road, the more you’ll find it leading back to you. I posted those pictures. I pushed the line. This was all coming, all in due time.
That’s how I feel about this crazy video project too. It’s something we had to do. We couldn’t have planned this!
Saturday started with the 5th Annual Zombie Walk. Of course Vinny and I went, camera’s rolling. We shot the hell out of it! The day before, I’d put an ad on Craigslist to help entice zombie killers to show up. They came in a huge black bus with fake riot gear, gas masks and guns, but their imaginary ammo was no match for thousands of zombies marching and groaning through downtown Portland. At the end, the zombies convened in Pioneer Square, where they performed their rendition of Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. It was incredible!
As if that wasn’t enough fun for one day, Vinny and I headed home to clean the blood splatters off and have a quick wardrobe change: him into his usual suit and tie, me into my usual jeans, tank top with a sweater and running shoes. Then we rolled down to the 5th Annual Distiller’s Festival at Bossanova.
Always looking for a back entrance, I ducked up a narrow walkway around the side of the building. It ended at an unlocked gate to a little patio. Vinny followed me in. Oops!
This was not where we wanted to be. Camera rolling, I led us into the tiny building, down a long hallway, through a dining area, the kitchen and another dining area until we came out the front door. We’d gone in a circle! After our little detour, we opted to go in via Bossanova’s main entrance.
“Lets do this the old fashioned way,” I said. “We’ll ask nicely.”
The lady in the booth was pleasant and perfectly compliant. We went upstairs. Vinny and I split up to do our thing. We managed to taste everything in the room: bacon vodka, chili-pepper vodka, absinthe, lots of bourbon and more. But I had a half-marathon to run in the morning, so I had to take it easy.
I pulled out my list. There was still so much to do! And it was early. We decided to push through. Next stop was the 350 climate change awareness party.
Beer was free and entertainment was top notch. The Sprockettes performed a few of their choreographed dance routines to local indie rock music, complete with tiny bikes! I was telling them we should make a pro-bike video… Naturally, I volunteered Vinny as cameraman.
It was right about then that an adorable little chick caught my eye, with a magnificent paper blossom on her head. Her name was Gwen. I just had to photograph her!
Gwen told us about how she made the accessory that I so admired. It was modified from a Chinese lantern. What a creative lady! She explained that she recently moved to Portland to work as a PA in the film industry and she’d love an opportunity to be a part of our project. (Isn’t that cute?! She must not realize how low/no budget it is.) Moments later, Vinny announced that he’d just got word of a bus full of naked people preparing to streak around Portland with pumpkins on their heads. It was leaving in ten minutes.
“I don’t believe it,” I said, “but if it’s true, we have to get on that bus.”
Vinny agreed enthusiastically, “we have to get on that bus!”
Suddenly my hopes of running a half-marathon the next morning were dashed. (Needless to say, the sacrifice was worth it.)
Vinny looked around frantically for a pumpkin, Gwen and I observing. Was this really happening? Vinny spotted a big one on a nearby shelf.
“Maybe I should steal it,” he wondered aloud, “the pumpkin is mandatory.”
“Well,” said Gwen, “I carved it. How about I just let you have it?”
“That works!” Vinny grabbed the pumpkin, quickly carved a hole in the bottom and ran for the bus. I was already there.
According to the rules, everyone except for camera people had to have a pumpkin for their head and be completely naked. (Turns out, the definition of “completely” does vary, depending on accessories.) We’d be hitting several populated areas around Portland, streaking through a bunch of bars along the way. What a hoot!
Before too long, the line between photographer and participant disappeared. The other camera man and myself found our clothes being removed. A lovely lady wearing only purple paint took care of my shirt and bra for me. My pants stayed on.
Predictably, the police showed up. The naked people weren’t even the problem – it was the flaming pumpkin on top of the bus. Go figure. I threw my shirt back on to film the lecture.
“This is purely an artistic endeavor,” explained our nearly naked leader, Gustav, “We know there’s a fine line between nude and lewd and we intend not to cross it.” We do love pushing boundaries, don’t we?
The police man, visibly straining to contain his amusement, pulled out his notepad, asking our comrade’s name.
“Here, let me give you my card,” Gus said, one-upping. (Where he had cards stashed remains a mystery.) He reassured the police officer that no one was being sexual in any way. Without further delay, the fire truck pulled away and the cops returned to duty. Back on the bus, Gus shouted a warning:
“They’re letting us continue as long as we remain decent. No jiggling your junk at anybody!”
“Vinny,” I said, “that means you.”
It was getting late. The tour ended back where it began and everyone migrated inside to party. Dudes were hilarious.
“I work for a member of congress,” said one of my fellow naked bus-riders, “Guess which one.” I refused to guess – I didn’t care which! My internal homing beacon began firing. It was time to go.
I left the party on foot. Within a minute or two, I heard someone following me. He was trashed.
“Are you trying to give me a ride?” I asked, “Because you look too drunk to drive.” I laughed at myself. “Which one of us is being more creepy right now?!” He was so wasted – he couldn’t even reply. “Give me your keys,” I said. “I’ll drive.”
Poor guy.
He let me drive myself home, despite the fact that I couldn’t bring him inside. I had to be up in two hours to take Mom to the airport. Plus, Dad would flip. The guy said he’d just sleep in his car. Fine by me! I went to bed.
At 4am, I was up again, still feeling buzzed on our way to the airport. Mom asked me about the night, so I told her everything. I was relieved that she laughed – considering her current situation (on her way to Memphis to see her ailing mother) she needed a laugh.
Back home, I returned to bed. I woke up later with a phone full of messages, including a devastating one from Vinny: The camera is gone.
WHAT?!
Vinny lost the camera. I was going to kill him! My heart palpitated a little while I wondered, “Is this how it ends?” I instinctively readied myself for a quick reconnaissance mission. I was going to find that damn thing.
Fortunately, Vinny beat me to it. He went back to the party venue, where people were still chillin’ and sure enough, the camera had been found.
There was no time to spare. I immediately switched gears, showered and got laced up for double-header kickball games. Mud Muckers won ‘em both! I was ecstatic. By the end of the night I’d put 75 colorful pics from the weekend on Facebook in an album titled: ONE CRAZY ASS DAY.
They were awesome pics! Yeah, so there were a few penises in there. There were also lots of boobies! No harm in that… Right?
Wrong!
When I got home from fitness conditioning today, my Facebook page was gone. My account has been disabled. Who knows if it’s permanent or for how long? Oh well. In the meantime, I’ll get lots of work done.
Stay tuned for the movie!
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