If you’ve ever driven in Portland you know it’s the land of no man’s reversal.  Supposedly the city is on a grid system and there’s MLK which runs… yada yada yada.  My brain shuts off when people start explaining anything with the word grid in it.  Immediate reaction.  That’s what cheating in math from 6th grad on will do to you.  Anyway, one wrong turn and you’re on a different bridge, got a million one way’s ahead of you and are cock blocked to 50 mph on the freeway.  Now, the fact that you don’t have to pump your own gas in Oregon almost evens these out, but still, it’s a bitch.  

So I only got lost twice trying to find Hawthorn Street.  And one of those times I ended up (on Hawthorn and lost) at “Vintage.”  Big, pink and bold it looked a little suspect.  In I strut.  I could tell from the jump it was a bougie mess of condescending prices and make believe market value.  The type of 2nd hand store that’s a mix of antique overpriced “finds” for old white people, cross bred with the sheik 30 year old “it’s spendy but it’s cheaper then Ikea” type of joint.  Then I saw the XXXL Fubu Jersey in the “vintage/cool” section.  WOOOOW.  It was time to go get lost some more.