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[personal profile] rachg82
I owe you guys a RL update, but I'm too drained right now to get into the hot mess that currently is my existence. Luckily, I have a shit-load of pictures to share, which involves zero emotional effort.

I was gonna make a joke about how Saturday Market is the last remaining bastion of authentic Portland hippiedom, but then this picture kinda does that for me.

I need this top.

I remember I got my palm read there once too, and she told me I was gonna live until 100. Haha, joke's on you, salad eaters!

Saturday Market royalty of the pint-sized variety.

For real though, people here are way too serious about their beer.

Can we please pause & take a moment to consider where he got the skull?

I don't know why, but I find this picture really endearing, heh. Like he looks all tough at first glance, but he's still ~vulnerable~ enough to pay some random lady to tell him his future based on a bunch of bullshit.

For some reason, this picture struck me as particularly Portland-esque. Like at least one of them drove there in a Subaru but prefers to get around town on a 19th century unicycle if you know what I'm saying. Like after work they all go out to munch on some vegan, artisinal, gluten-free pizza while debating microbrews and knitting tiny Timbers beanies for their therapy cats (made exclusively out of recyclable materials, obvs). Also, I'm pretty sure the chill lookin' dude on the right has been arrested at least once for chaining himself to a tree. SOMEONE HAS TO LOOK OUT FOR THE SPOTTED OWL, OKAY?

Oh, and that girl on the far left? Is way too pleased with her thrift store sunglasses, if you ask me. Fucking hipsters.

I'd way prefer the second coming arrive with burgers & hot dogs.

This picture speaks to my soul.

That's Ms. Awesome Pants to you. (Miss Awesome if you're nasty)

Yet another shirt I need.

Thanks for getting that Simpsons "Jazz Man" song stuck in my head, dude.

I love how you can just tell this guy gives absolutely zero fucks.

I like the one on the left.

These pictures are giving me flashbacks to my mom's many attempts at nagging me into selling my artwork at Saturday Market. Sorry, Mom.

I swear this guy has been selling that red one for like a decade.

I wonder if her & Zero Fucks Man have met.

I think this is the part where I admit that most of the jewelry I've bought in my life has come from booths like this (though usually not as fancy looking. Normally, everything is just laid out on tables). Basically, if you're looking for chunky season 1 Bones necklaces, you've come to the right place.

There was a toddler getting her stomach all henna-d up, but I didn't take a picture for fear of looking creepy.

It's kind of basic, but I like the one of Mt. Hood.

OF COURSE the ~dream pillows~ are organic and made of hemp. You know who sleeps on boring pillows with non-dreamy feathers in them? THE MAN, that's who.

I will not miss the heat once Fall arrives, but I have to admit the blue skies have been pretty.

This picture is brought to you by my ovaries. Though let's be real -- I would have a heart attack if anyone tried to walk around with my baby on their shoulders.

I'm still mad I didn't have money to try the home-made ice cream.

This guy is serving up Scruffy Burnside Realness with that beard. Like I'm pretty sure he just wandered into the group & grabbed some balls (heh, balls) after he noticed his luck with the matching shirts. It's like Salvation Army meets Abercrombie & Fitch.

I still remember back in the '90s how the petition people were always hanging around Saturday Market, trying year after year to legalize weed in Oregon. I remember thinking to myself, "Oh, you beautiful, stoned idealist -- it ain't gonna happen." And then it totally did, and I shut the hell up.

I want that purple dress.

This business woman sees your white-girl-dreadlocks and raises you one fine collection of bongs.

And that's it! Except as a bonus treat, I also have this super short clip of an awesome dancer/boneless man:

P.S. Okay, one more vid -- only because it makes me laugh. "Portland's the town to find out that your spirit animal is a dad." Sounds about right. Also, I consider it a victory that I've managed to avoid white water rafting for 34 years. My dad tried to get me to go every summer, and I was like, "NOPE." Heh.

P.P.S. That thrift store was one of the three that rejected my clothes last week. Specifically, this was the place with the 1800s mustache chick (she was OWNING that mustache) who told me my collection wasn't "funky" enough. #foreverbitter
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