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Posts Tagged ‘White people’

Dear Philly:

It’s been YEARS since I’ve been in your environs. But you are where my annual journalism educators conference was held.

I think I like you better than I did when I was last here — about 15 years ago. And I liked you then.

You have history:

Pop culture:

(Here’s a hint if that means nothing to you:)

AND plenty of cool new things to do. Like the Cauldron Bar, where you can make potions.

I love themed things like this.

My fellow witch and wizard discussed creative evening options available now during our concoction brewing.

I want to DO things when I go out: sing karaoke, try to dominate at trivia, play darts, suck at pool, do an escape room, trash talk during mini golf, murder someone at Skee ball. I don’t want to sit around at a bar.

There are more places cropping up where you can do these things, and the focus isn’t on drinking.

Philly, you even have Karaoke Taxi.

Whuuuuut?!

Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Anyway, I had a great time. Thanks. I’ll be back. I’m def an East Coast girl.

Also, you have Dunkin’ Donuts, so …

Love ya!
Beth

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Dear Yamhill County Fair,

You have everything I would expect in a county fair:

Rides assembled and operated by ex convicts
Parking in a field
Odd signs (“shave ice”)
“Food” in the form of corn dogs and funnel cakes
White people in overalls

You also have some things I didn’t expect:

Hats with fake Trump hair
Goats with unusual pelts
The biggest trough of curly fries I’ve ever seen
A rodeo (photo by Amy)
Me as a chicken (photo by Amy)
Inflatable cattle
Sleepy pigs

And Sir Mix-a-Lot.

Thanks for an interesting time!
Beth

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Dear Wrexham Women:

I’m a fan. That’s why I badgered my friend Jason into seeing you take on the Portland Thorns on the Wrex Coast Tour.

But it wasn’t the Thorns. It was the Thorns Academy. Like high schoolers.

Should have been an easy win, right.

Yeah, not so much.

When we left (early, because we are old and wanted to “avoid the crowds” as our dads used to say), you were down 4-0. One goal happened because your goalie was way out on the field.

I was, as the kids say, SHOOKETH.

It’s like you had never played the game before.

But I know from “Welcome to Wrexham,” that you are really good.

So WTF?

Did you want to save yourselves an injury? Didn’t work. No. 10 left with a knee issue.

What was the purpose? You didn’t get new fans, and current ones were disappointed. (It was a wreck and then some. Wreck-some. Har har.)

Good thing I didn’t really care about the game.

I cared most about hanging out with Jason. We had a great time! Just look:

We’ve been friends for more than a decade, but are now up in each other’s business because we live in the same place again.

(Side note to Jason: our friendship is over if you send me that lactation pod photo again. 😂)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed your jaunt on the West Coast.

Maybe I’ll see you on your home turf someday and be impressed.

Sincerely,
Beth

*Hank, of course.

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Dear Summer,

Listen: I know plenty of people like you. We were all conditioned to like you because that is when we finally got a break from school.

But imma** be real with you: I hate you. You can GTFO.

I don’t like to sweat. It’s why I prefer exercising in the water.

I don’t want to lie in the sun and bake.

I’m not a fan of wearing shorts.

I moved to the Pacific Northwest where I was promised clouds and rain.

Yet here you are, Summer. Coming in hot.

Literally.

It was above 100 degrees for a few days last week.

My office is on the third floor of an old building with no air conditioning.

My house does not have central air.

Many places here do not have AC.

Why? It was never needed.

Now it is.

For you MAGA idiots who “do your own research” squawking that climate change isn’t real, let me tell you something:

It really f—ing is.

I have a degree in meteorology. For real.

(Ok, I’m breathing. Deep breaths. In with the good air; out with the bad.)

Anyway, no air.

When I got here and noted this travesty, people said to me, “But Beth, you are from the South!”

Yes, and we have air conditioning everywhere. In fact, the AC is so strong that you keep a sweater in your car just in case.

Not here. I even took the usual sweater off my naked cat so he could stay cool.

It’s not over yet. Tuesday will be hot too.

And I remember last year when we had 107-degree temps for a week in August. Fun.

So, Summer, please go. Fall, you’re the one that I want.

Kthxbyeeee,
Beth

*Glenn.
**Stealing from kids today.

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Dear Rick Coffey:

I had never heard of you before a month ago when my work friend Yu-Shan asked if I wanted to go to one of your events.

I often say “yes” to plans because I know I need to get out of the house (and I do like to try new things).

Then in true introvert-in-training style, I have regrets when the day arrives.

Anyway, I went.

Sir, you’ve created a cult.

I was immediately horrified that I was going to have to try dance fitness with all these people — people who were stretching!

I’m still scarred from Zumba.

Fun fact: I’m not super coordinated.

I do love line dancing, but that only involves two appendages. If I have to involve my arms, that’s a problem.

It’s why I didn’t make drill team or the cheerleading squad.

I expected you to go through the steps, and I would enter a period of self loathing.

But it was a free-for-all in the very best way. There were 100+ people there, and no one was looking at anyone but you and your squad.

And you aren’t what I expected to look at. For someone who now makes a living leading dance fitness classes, I was surprised to see your dad bod.

And thrilled, if I’m honest.

Fitness comes in all sizes, and there was no shame on display. It was fantastic.

I kept up with the moves to hits like “Country Grammar,” “Thong Song” and “Lady Marmalade.”

By “kept up,” I mean “remained alive and upright.”

My Apple watch gave up. The shock of me doing cardio was too much.

My phone, which was in my pocket, refused to record my efforts.

EIGHT MINUTES?!? Try 75.

Even my underboob sweat had sweat.

Still damp 30 minutes later when I got to a shower.

You have a catch phrase — “evolve unapologetically” — and were selling merch emblazoned with it. But it was this one that caught my eye.

I was a solo artist, for sure.

Was it good for me? Yes.

Did I enjoy it? As much as I could.

Will I go back? Maybe.

You know who did love it? My cute, energetic, fit friend.

Ultimately, I’m impressed by you and your operation. Totally worth the $25.

My padded hide and I thank you.

Sincerely,
Beth

*Everybody Wang Chung tonight.

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Dear Alien Life Forms:

Apparently, you like the scenery of the Pacific Northwest as much as residents and tourists do.

In fact, there’s a whole festival celebrating a famous visit you made in 1950.

Postcard from the trip

I took my human form up to town to investigate.

Because of course I did.

You may not know this, but weird festivals are kind of my jam.

Anyway, I saw plenty while waiting for the parade to start.

People wearing protection
A reference for people of a certain age
One of you ready to receive visitors
Another reference for people of a certain age (POACA)
Is it art BY you or ABOUT you?
Prepared for the costume contest
They look fun!
Photos with a Sleestak. Of course. For POACA. Happily, this child does not look as traumatized as she would have if she had seen the source material.
I want to believe.

Things I never thought I’d hear:

“Watch out! Don’t hit people with your alien!” — a mom to her kid waving around an inflatable creature

“I don’t like aliens. They’re scary.” — an inflatable-free kid

Then it was time for the parade. I will tell you that I don’t much like parades. I was scarred for life by the boring St. Patrick’s Day parade in Savannah, which consists of politicians riding in convertibles and Irish families walking in a pack waving flags.

No thank you.

The last time I was at a parade, I came home with COVID.

But this was my first year at your celebration, so I gave it a go.

Here are the highlights:

I love a band.
I swear I thought she had a ball sack on her back. But it was just a flaccid alien replica.
You aliens come in all shapes and sizes.
And filled with life or … not.
There were bad guys …
… and good ones. That’s my friend Sarah!
Van HALIEN, y’all!

Afterward, it was time for lunch.

Sitting around like it’s just a regular day.
I had a crepe that was out of this world.

Then I went home to hang out with my own personal alien.

I have no idea what you real extraterrestrial beings think about all this. We must seem very primitive. There’s plenty of evidence for that.

I hope you are amused.

Now could you give me my condo keys back?

Thanks and Nanu Nanu,
Beth

*Yeah, those guys.

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Dear Oregon,

I think we are going to be ok together. I’m feeling optimistic.

It’s probably because the sun is back.

Or the fact that I realized I’ve had nearly two full weeks of social activities, including:

Line dancing with Henry, a friend from college who was passing through.
Karaoke with coworkers and friends old and new.
Games with long-time friends from my Savannah days.
A huge wine-tasting event I was able to attend for free with another coworker.
Line dancing at a new-to-me club in Salem: Silver Spur.

About that club …

It was packed with folks aged 25-35.

Hence, not folks like me. 😂

I enjoyed the people-watching.

But then this happened:

I have thoughts.

  • This is LINE DANCING, not a sporting event. No need for the national anthem. (I would argue that we don’t even need it at sporting events.)
  • This is HOURS into the night. Why play it THEN?
  • Is this girl signing the anthem? If so, is that RIGHT? It looks made up. Like this lady. (Based on this, I think she’s full of it.)

In addition to the fascinating fauna people, the flora is pretty great too.

Double-flowering plum trees are everywhere.
They are lovely until a stiff wind comes by.

In general, I’m happy. Everything is going to be ok.

Thanks for being patient with me.

Your new friend,
Beth

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Hi everyone!

It’s been a while. I don’t have an excuse beyond rain, work and lethargy.

I went out this week with a coworker who grew up Mormon. As a student at BYU, she was asked by a boy, “What’s your talent?”

Like most people would be, she was astounded.

But that religion is about getting, having and keeping a man, so …

That phrase made me think: What’s my talent?

I can write — when inspired (and not hampered by rain, work and lethargy).

I can cook complicated dishes. Homemade ravioli? NBD.

I can tie a cherry stem in my mouth with my tongue. (Party trick FTW!)

I can follow directions. (Please put me as your No. 2 for “The Amazing Race.” I will not disappoint.)

I can meet a deadline like no one else.

I am organized as f—-.

I am an excellent travel agent and companion.

I’m the “yes, and?” friend — up for any adventure.

I can even do these adventures on my own.

For example, I needed to kill time in Portland before I headed to the airport. I found the Peculiarium.

Seemingly right up my alley.

And it was, except the gift shop was larger than the main attraction.

Here are some photos of the highlights so you don’t have to spend time and $10 when you are in Portland.

True crime dollhouse
A new friend
Oh nooooo! Things have gone horribly wrong for me!

Anyway.

What was scarier was this house next door:

This doesn’t seem safe.

Maybe there are talented contractors out there who can help this old house.

I’m not interested in that adventure. I can be handy if necessary, but that needs more help than I can provide.

What’s your talent?

Tell me everything.

Beth

*OMC — blast from the past.

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Dear British Folks:

You know how I love your TV shows. I can’t get over the full frontal on regular TV.

Even your reality shows are so different from ours in America. They are just so civilized. I mean, just look at the “Great British Bake Off.” The competition is with THEMSELVES. “Oh this tart. It’s just not my day” and the like.

But then there is “Four in a Bed.” I saw a side of you people that shocked me to my core.

(Interruption for people who aren’t familiar with the show: Four innkeepers take turns staying at each other’s places then rate them on facilities, breakfast, host attitude, etc. They also pay what they think the stay was worth. There’s a winner at the end.)

In Season 14, Episode 1, Mandi didn’t like that Natalie, who wears the pants in her relationship with Mark (contestants noted this repeatedly), deducted some points for cleanliness because there was a dust layer on the nightstand.

Well. That meant WAR.

When it came time for the stay at Mark and Natalie’s, this lady stood on the nightstand to find cobwebs on top of the four-poster bed. She was on her hands and knees in the bathroom to look close enough to find wee stains in the toilet grout. She deducted points for two hairs on the carpet. A six for cleanliness was a low blow, considering she only gave a two to “Sleeperdorm” that actually had a wee-stained mattress and suspicious drips down the wall.

I’ve never seen a more vicious show in your country.

And I watch plenty of British TV.

Anyway, thanks for making me feel better about our miserable Housewives and whatnot.

Tra!
Beth

*Love me some slang.

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Dear New Friend Sarah,

Thanks for inviting me to Boots & Bottles last night.

Dry January was easy until the last week. It was nice to hang out with you and Mindy, and finally enjoy a glass of wine.

I had fun, but I will say that it felt very much like a high-school dance when I arrived.

But unlike a high-school dance, people there were ready to hit the dance floor immediately.

I feel like I got some cardio in, so that’s good.

I had no idea when I moved here that line dancing was SO POPULAR. I would never have guessed. I mean … in OREGON!

Anyway, thanks again, and I’ll see you next weekend for Diva Drag Brunch.

Your friend,
Beth

*Dua Lipa. Love her.

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