Eugene Capstone #2: The wrong kind of lit.

You know you're a geek when the smart-arse salsa vendor who flirts with you at the farmer's market gets a napkin with the name of a novel, rather than your number, on it.

Not sexy. Even despite the fruitsicle, hot jalapeno relish, and one more game of Guess Her Nationality. Sexier, perhaps, was the look of bemusement I exchanged with his small female coworker who had no doubt witnessed the putting of the same moves on other vegetable-shopping Eugene chicks several times today.

Eugene Capstone #1: Ms. Whiteaker Pageant

An evening populated by
varying degrees of hippie in
varying states of inebriation
(apt, since it was sponsored
by BoozeWeek International),
all crammed into a relatively
small space full of pizza and
beer. Much resale lingerie was
put on and taken off by plenty
inked bodies. Nipple tassels,
naked accordion playing,
rolla-hooping, and unabashed
Whiteaker worship all made
for evening that can only
be described, rather feebly,
as very, very Eugene.

Law Enfarcement

This week's Eugene Weekly:

Unsurprising that this would be the week I'd walk by the bus station and see the following: two security people (or oddly dressed policemen--they weren't in regular uniform, and were wearing red caps) standing back and smirking as a casually indignant Eugenian complained on the phone to someone about the unfairness of being harassed "as a citizen in this government". An apt sequel to "Don't taze me, bro!"