#73 Whole Foods

Expensive, expensive, expensive & expensive. Walking the aisle of Whole Foods will amaze most people with their great selection of both brand name and small market niches. But once you reach the unprofessional hippie clerk at check out, you might choke on your processed spearmint gum. Whole Foods and Wild Oats are an experiment in “how much will college-educated people pay for food”. This brilliant capitalistic exercise has turned me into somewhat of a boycotter.

I’m tired with people mentioning their Whole Paycheck experience. It makes me want to vomit when I hear talk about how much their pasta salad lunch cost. You seriously think the “make your own sandwich” is better than a deli? All natural, organic and whole foods don’t taste bad to me. Somehow, 365 has found a way to consistently provide me with the worst food ever.

There is no reason to shop at Whole Foods… ever. Do you want to support the local farmer? Then go to any of the amazing Co-Ops we have throughout PDX. The “local” farmers who provide produce to Whole Foods are actually packing sheds hundred miles away from town. Organic produce does not provide more nutrients than real produce. Could you imagine a world where all produce is organic? Humanity would die of starvation the minute a disease hits. By pissing away your money for a perceived notion of health, you are supporting starvation in the world.*

You being fat and lazy isn’t going to be remedied by whole food. So, you hike every weekend. Big deal! Try enjoying a healthy diet rather than eating crappy food because its “organic and all natural”. 365 Wheat Pasta is still going to make your ass look fat in 7’s. Since November ‘07, I have been Whole Foods/Wild Oats free. I’m happy to say that I’m still alive after eating normal foods.

*I’m allowed one ridiculous argument a year

#72 Beer Snobs

As I sit here looking at these two beautiful Laurelhurst and Lompoc pints of beer, I harken back to the days of my first microbrew. It was a delicious Black Butte Porter on the day after my first Fall term final. My friend advised me about the taste and how it would change my life forever. Sipping each chocolaty/soy-saucy drop led me down the road of dark, thick beer. This single moment made me realize that I could never go back to drinking crappy PBR. Of course, beer pong would change all that, but my mind was now open to the idea of paying $8/six pack of beer.

Now that I saw the big picture through the bottom of a microbrew glass, I wanted to taste more… I needed to taste more. Brew fests, Blues Fests, Easter Beer hunts, brewery tours, even at one point I tried to brew my own stout (It tasted like mud water). Throughout these micro-adventures I would be introduced to a group of people that deserve their own classification.

Beer snobs are much like your Portland hippie. They live to be free from the social norms established by society. Five shirts, three cargo shorts/pants and Keen footwear is all they need for their wardrobe. No matter the environment, their thick husky beards will protect them from any weather. Although most of them are large bears, some have taken a liking to outdoor sports. Their motto: “Dead Guy is always served best after a hike on Dog Mountain”.

However, NEVER confuse the beer snob with a wine snob. Unlike wine snobs, who are usually rich and affluent, beer snobs thrive on having a unique taste unlike any other human on this planet. One could be an executive of an interactive agency in town. Another could be a Hood River ski bum. No matter what their background, they will forever argue about which organic beer is better. So what’s the only thing they can agree on? Light beer was created by women, for men.

Since BBP first hit my lips, I’m proud to say I love microbrews. I’m pretty sure I’ve been to more microbreweries west of the Mississippi than 75% of the American population. But most days, I couldn’t even imagine drinking a Blackfoot Bitter. All I want is a cool, cold refreshing Coors Light on my front porch. So to you Mr. Beer Snob, I could care less that I’m drinking a wussies beer. I may not share your unique taste, but at least I don’t share your smell.

#71 Lake Oswego Moms

For decades, these vixens of venture capital investors have roamed the Alphabet streets, maintaining their persona of perfection. Oh you pretty little gold diggers, with your double and (sometimes even triple!) wide $4000 strollers and your Gucci diaper bags all for your ugly baby. Juicy Baby can’t hide that face. When not cougaring around for your next play toy you are jogging around Bridgeport in your coordinating Lucy activewear after morning yoga/erotic dance classes. Immediately after this, you grace Peets Coffee where you will hold up the line with your half-caff, non fat, sugar-free half vanilla and half hazelnut latte order while you shuffle through you Louis Vuitton looking for coordinating wallet.

You park your Maserati next to me at Albertson’s then glare at me while I get into my moderately priced SUV as you load your organic veggies and strawberry Go-gurt into what was once considered a fine piece of Italian engineering and has now been caged and turned into your grocery getter. Country Club Road is clogged with your Escalades and Hummers in pearl white and I-try-to-hard yellow (respectively). You consistently travel at least 5-10 miles under the speed limit. All of this just to say ‘Look at me! I’m so rich I am a better person than you’.

Manzana happy hour you say? Sounds great! Plans are instantly foiled because you all have been there since 2pm. Why? Because you don’t work. Why would you? Your father, I mean hubby is OLD and has money and therefore a job is simply out of the question. You have more important things to do. Like Manis and martinis with your token favorite gay friend from SE!

#70 Blitz Pearl

I shouldn’t be as pissed off as I am, since it’s just a bar, but the new “Blitz Pearl” has royally ticked me off.  For those of you who had never been to the old Blitz before, it was the perfect after-work wind down joint.

Coworkers and I would take to the shuffle board tables, play pool, enjoy their happy hour drink and food specials.  Although the venue did turn into a huge frat party after 10, it was still a great place to watch games and just relax after work.  Blitz was an upscale version of the Cheerful bars.  Just one of those bars you wish you could replicate in every neighborhood in Portland (which they ended up doing in East Ladd), that is until my favorite bar in Northwest became Pearlified.

Recently, there was a sporting event that my coworkers and I wanted to watch.  Without question we were out the door headed to Blitz.  From a distance, we noticed a new feminine looking sign: Blitz Pearl.  Upon entering Blitz, we were surprised to see the entire place had been renovated.  The abundant pool tables, air hockey, hdtvs, projector screen, shuffle board and enclosed bar area had been removed.  In their absence were leather couches, two pool tables and one shuffle board table.  The new management team had gutted out the entire feel of Blitz.

The best way I can compare it; it was like the girlfriend moved in.  Suddenly, all the fun was gone.  Now you have to watch Thursday night College Football in the bedroom because it’s her book club night.  That’s what the new Blitz:Pearl feels like.

Our favorite hangout place has been taken away from us.  The bartender treated us like sh*t and one coworker made the perfect comment, “It seemed like she hated the fact we were there”.  The feeling is mutual Blitz:Pearl.

Update: Portland Mercury has a great post about saving Blitz: http://blogtown.portlandmercury.com/BlogtownPDX/archives/2009/05/15/blitzed-five-fired-in-management-shakeup

#69 Pioneer Square

Bums. Street Urchins. Crappy Guitar Players. Disheveled unemployed. Now, I don’t believe that everyone should have a High School diploma, job or contribute to society because that would be an unfair expectation for the thousands of Californians who come here every year.  Pioneer Courthouse Square was created to be the living room of Portland.  25 years later, it has become a big stinky brick hole.

Pioneer Square was a gift to Portland on her birthday in April 6, 1984.  Citizens of Portland were encouraged to donate personal bricks to the project.  Upon creating this living room, the City of Portland was aiming to build a social center.  As the project grew, the area was flooded with investors looking to develop around the Square, making it the heart of downtown. No one would disagree that this is the heart of Portland with the Pearl District being boobs* and the West hills representing the “delicate flower”.

As a first time visitor to Portland, Pioneer Square is a must-see on your itinerary.  With the plethora of shopping, hotels, dining and general weird that exists here, tourists would be missing out on a golden opportunity to experience all that is Portland. Pioneer Place offers the finest shopping experience outside of the rundown Lloyd Center Mall.  Street performers include “Silver Dude Playing With Balls” and “Man Drums on Buckets”.  A fan favorite event (I’ve never been) is the Flicks on Bricks, were movies can be viewed on bricks.  If you want a unique “Today Show”-esque experience, you can view KGW HD Studio on the Square.  Stephanie Strickland is our very own Meredith Vieira.

For those of us from the most miserable place to live, I generally find Pioneer Square to be a chore.  The sheer amount of tourists, bums, petitioners, street kids with pets and Clear reps is a little too much for me.  Like a day at Oaks Park, I feel overwhelmed by the miniverse that transpires here.  Pioneer Courthouse Square has become your college’s Fraternity basement.  A lot of people you don’t know/like reeking of alcohol.

*The Pearl is Portland’s boob job.