The universe exploded at the Doug Fir in Portland, OR

If you read wikipedia as much as I do, you'll know that the tallest tree ever to exist was not a Giant Sequoia, but rather a Douglas-Fir.   After dinner, Phaux pointed us towards this arboronymous bar, in the Jupiter Hotel, which is also a semi-legendary music venue.  

Shortly after arriving, three blondes from Seattle engaged us.  Cathleen and Kelsey are pictured below.

Kelsey wanted to look tough, but I explained to her that the back-of-arm-jiggly stuff was not intimidating.

Of course, hilarity ensues.  But not before I point out her little pea-sized head.

We retreated to the warm fire outside ... where we met a musician who was actually rejected from playing at the Hotel Utah.  We will not be mentioning any names here, as she is not worthy.

Phaux snaps some shots of the lovely interior ...

There I am below on the right.  

These girls were obnoxiously not funny or interesting, although they were cute.

Okay, now that we have all the blondes in the picture below, I'll explain ... Shelly (the way too fake-and-bake on the far left) was on her way up to Vancouver.  At the border, the Canadian Border Patrol / RCMP denied Shelly access to their wonderful country.  She claimed it was because she had been convicted of a DUI a couple years prior.  Her friends told me that it was because she exceeded the Canadian limits on peroxide and bronzer.  Anyway, they decided to go to Portland instead and have a "Fuck Canada" party.  Then walks in this poor soul with a Canada t-shirt, who proceeded to get molested by the girls.  I guess they really did want to fuck Canada.

The hipster shows her ink.  Babe, if you don't do some toning exercises, in a few years, that guy is going to be tall and fat.  

Notice the ghostly paleness of the crowd here.  Portland gets approximately 4 days of sun each year, and residents are advised to stay indoors. 

We like cleavage.  Everyone in our corner of the bar was staring at this girl's tata's ...

Why I wore these retardo glasses, I'm not sure. 

Phaux takes a picture of the girl taking a picture ... he says he loves the natural light, but I think he was going for an upskirt shot.

We played throw the butt in the ashtray ... it took me two tries.   Soy el campion del mundo!!!!!!!

Sisters: 

Me trying to perform ear-o-lingus.  It didn't work.   But I got thrush in my ear.

Acrylic moose head.  'Nuff said.

More bar shots to close this out ...

500 pushups!

You may have caught some moments on the timelapse video where I appear to be humping the ground ... if you look carefully, my pants are actually on.  I was attempting to do 50 pushups a day before going out drinking.  Mostly, I did a good job of that, but a couple nights I forgot and had a beer before the pushups, and one night I just couldn't do anymore.  I know 50 pushups doesn't sound like a lot, but when you're a chain-smoking, tequila-drinking slob, 50 is quite a few. Well, today, I hit 500 pushups for our trip.

I feel a little better about myself, but one of my heroin-skinny shirts won't button over my chest anymore. Here's me remembering to do pushups in the Albany bar in Cheyenne. That's brown lightning, baby.

I feel safer already ...

We got a late start and stopped shortly after the border with Wyoming in a town called Evanston.  Every man in the Wendy's was wearing camouflage.  I suspect that the incidence of camouflage-wearing and the incidence of gun ownership is highly correlated, and I immediately wondered, do we really want our dumbest states and our most armed states to be one and the same? Well, it turns out, my prejudices were way off.  Wyoming not only has one of the highest high school graduation rates in the country, but also some of the highest mean SAT scores and is in the top third in average IQ -- way higher than California on New York.  Oops, maybe there's something we're missing.

Anyway, to sum up, people in Wyoming have horrible fashion sense.

Yes, this is a camouflage tuxedo vest and elastic tie.

Newcastle, Wyoming: Fine Dining AND Fashion Forward

We stumbled into the small town of Newcastle, Wyoming, hoping it wouldn't match it's Geordie namesake ... thankfully it was just a cute little town with a particularly awesome little diner (you can just make out Donna's in the first picture).

So we were pretty pleased when our redhead (#4) waitress dropped these delicious burgers in front of us.

And apparently the words out:  The folks below came all the way from Isreal to eat at Dotty's!!!  Not really, they're on a long honeymoon roadtrip.  Guys, don't you know you take the road trip BEFORE marriage to make sure you can stand each other? Anyway, that's Asaf and (I'm sorry, I can't remember his wife's name!).  They'll be dropping by San Francisco around Halloween.

But the most memorable thing?  The back of Asaf's shirt:

Sure enough, this is made by two Spanish felons who started printing up t-shirts in Jail.   We think the name was Puta Madre ... but I can't find a canonical source it on the web.  Asaf, help us out with some information!