Port Land (Portal To Hell) Part 2

June 13, 2009 at 7:28 AM | Posted in Humor | Leave a comment

(…continued from “Port Land (Portal To Hell) Part 1”)

This is going to be sad. I’m sorry, but the last section just makes me sad. It’s called “I Saw U,” frequently mistaken by dyslexics as the reincarnation section, but actually a place for losers who saw another person in public once and are banking on the astronomical chance that that person saw them and will be reading this section for their ad. It’s the newspaper equivalent of the scene from The Lonely Guy where all the lonely guys are on the rooftops yelling out the names of girls they met but never got off with, except instead of yelling, “Susan!,” they yell, “Brown and baby blue! I’ve been biking around NoPo for days, where have you been! #909616!”

What’s sadder than these people is the idea that someone is thinking, “Maybe somebody saw me in public once and fell in love with me but didn’t have the chance to say anything. I’ll check the Portland Mercury’s ‘I Saw U’ section to see if anything seems to describe me.” Every day. And worse, there’s “bucketloads more” online, so chances are you wouldn’t find anybody, seer or seen, on this half page. (In actual fact, there are replies on this very page, but I suspect all of this was concocted by “Matt Davis” anyway.)

Here’s some sad, sad examples. (Don’t read unless you want to be sad. Or laugh at sad people.) (P.S. – (wait, is this a postscript?) each ad ends with when/where/you (gender)/me (gender). Ahhh, too much punctuating!)

“You ‘flirted’ with me a while back on the LL, now our profiles our [sic] both down…”

Flirted in quotation marks = I looked at you and you looked away shyly, as if in utter disgust. Actually this seems to refer to some website. LL… Lumber Liquidators? I hear there’s some hot action around there. Just going there gives me wood.

because I think bothering people at work is so rude. You: cute working, cute glasses, cute haircut @ 2PM. Me: Sunday Grocery shopping femme in plaid jumper. I think I made you blush.”

“Oh shit, it’s one of those lesbians. And I was just telling somebody how much I hate them!” *blush* This makes me sad. It must be hard enough being a straight loser (correction: it’s hard enough being a straight loser), but being a gay loser, wow! And she’s got it all wrong to boot. The butch is supposed to wear the plaid, not the femme! No wonder she has to resort to assuming checkout girls whose lines they didn’t go through were blushing at them and want to read the Creepy Ads in hopes of getting offered coffee or a beer. And what’s the checkout girl going to say, “Oh yeah, I remember you! You’re the one who didn’t go through my checkout! Man, everybody who comes to this Fred Meyer comes through MY checkout, so I thought, this chick has some balls to dare go through somebody else’s checkout. I wanna know her.”

whom I have seen three times since last spring. at the NE coffee shop where you shared your chocolate pie with me. at the NoPo bar you work/(ed) at [where I stalked you]. and at a downtown photocopiers. who are you. i’m intrigued.”

Intrigued? Even if you didn’t have the sound mind to ask her name when she shared her pie with you, you could have approached her at either of the other two places and said, “Hey, I’m the guy you shared your pie with,” before getting maced. Or if it happened the other way around, you could have said, “Hey, person sharing her pie with me, I saw you at the bar/photocopier/your shower. Who are you?” Unless you actually STOLE her pie, in which case I have even less sympathy for you, you thieving, photocopying, pie-stealing motherf… Now I’m thinking what really happened is she saw this guy clutching a coffee and thought he looked like he must be a homeless person, so she said, “Hey… uh, you want the rest of my pie?”

I love your sleepy face and your big brown eyes, I love you my half black magic woman, let’s do each other everyday!, tu seximexi. Where: in the bedroom.”

“hey honey look for a special mesage from me in i saw u today!!” – via text message.

“Dear Randy, stop fucking talking to me through ‘I Saw U.’ We live together!”

It was early, or was it late? You said you’d walked a long way, and that I was your hero. I wish we could have talked for longer. Matches? Where: Hawthorne 7/11.”

So, woman walks to the 7/11 for cigarettes, a really long way (half a block), asks for a pack of Marlies, says, “You’re my hero,” clerk says, “Matches?” she laughs in his face as she pulls out a lighter embossed with her family crest, coughs a few dozen times, and leaves. Guy thinks, “Wow, she laughed at my joke and called me her hero!” This makes me glad I never go out. Where’d she go? She went HOME!

You: long-ish jacket, lovely brunette mom/aunt/nanny? [What?? I’ve never been so insulted!] Me: beard/glasses/guitar leading a group outing to the swingset. That was some serious eye contact… I was secretly singing my songs for you. Responsibility pulled me away too soon. Anything behind those eyes? [No, I’m a brainless airhead! Is that okay?]”

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, baby. Rounnnnd and rounnnd. Aw yeah.”

“I’m a little teapot, not too short and not too stout, you know what I mean? Here is my handle… and here is my spout. You like that spout?”

“She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes. Mhm. She’ll be wearing red pajamas when she comes.”

Was I the object of your attention causing you to forego looking both ways on the street. Hopefully. Partially because you were what my eyes were filled with when all my clean clothes fell on the dirty ground. Laundry date?”

Well, I’m sure she would if she hadn’t gotten hit by a bus and died. Reminds me of that White Stripes song, “Clean Clothes and the Dirty Ground.”

You: cute, glasses, brown hair, great t-shirt [no, I said GREY t-shirt!], cool shoes Me: tall, dark hair I asked for recommendation as an excuse to talk. You sighed… I was trying to read your name tag. I’ll be shopping at PDX from now on.”

“Hey, uh…” *looking down* “Can you recommend a good boob to read? I mean a boob book? I mean a boob boob… GOOD BOOK!?”


“I was looking at your name tag! Name tag!

And some… well, some just speak for themselves.

homina homina homina…hominy grits. what? dayam girl you lookin’ fine in yo business ensemble. i moved the newspapers fo’ yo supa fine ass to sit down. let’s get together and make smoovies!”

you are prep cook at the paradox, dark clothes, blonde hair guy. There is just something about you that makes me want to karate kick you in the throat and bite you on the arm. See you soon….”

(Very special final ad, up next…)

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