Badoozer visits

Friday entailed of weekday business but I was getting a visitor this weekend. The One, the Only Doozer was coming to visit. Hubby cleared the weekend schedule and watched the kids while Dooz and I went out and created enough mayhem that we swore we would only speak of on our death beds.

This story maybe a little long, but you will like it, I promise. Some facts have been added or omitted just because that's how I roll.

Friday night Doozer got into town and headed straight over to our house. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t someone like That Guy or a Bates Motel owner. As far as Doozer knew, I could turn out to be some psycho posing as me, to wake up, and find herself in her hotel bathtub the next day, covered in ice, with a note taped to her forehead, “Thanks for the kidney, CALL 911”.

We established identity with blood draws, tattoo comparisons and a retina scan. All was well in the world.

Doozer graciously endured my children’s bombardment of questions. Abstract comments ensued on why GI Joe should be prone with his plastic rifle instead of upright in his amphibious ATV. They loved her immediately. She is really great! Stylish, honest and just as funny as her blog.

This was going to be fun. We headed out to her hotel and she checked in with all 348 pieces of her luggage. And don’t even think of mocking her. A girl has to be prepared for um, Armageddon or a tsunami or something. Even I was taking mental notes on the number of bags for my next trip. The key is you have to save room for taking the Bath and Body Works soaps and little bottles of BIO shampoo and conditioner. If you get room enough for a bathrobe and the pillows then you are in business.

Saturday was a power shopping day. You think I am joking? Armed with a parking pass, fat wallets and coffee beverage of choice we set out to the land of retail mallishness. We saw the incense and Buddha store. We smelled lotions & bath scrubs. We cleaned out the rock and agate shop buying souvenirs. We scoured Nordstrom Rack until the cart overflowed. We laughed at weird shoes, made fun of other shoppers clothes and drank Pepsi's and waters until we utilized every stinky, half-flushed bathroom in the mall. We purchased exactly 24.3lbs of candy. We laughed at the uniforms of the Hot Dog on A Stick employees. Well, who doesn't?

We did some more people watching in the food court avoiding the eye of Bored Out Of My Gourd McDonalds Manager Oogling You like he will replace Mr Coffee in a heartbeat. Good luck with that.

Now I am convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that Doozer is indeed part machine. Her shopping prowess intimidated me beyond anything I had come across. I felt lame. I had been shown up. Hollywood starlets would have been in awe.

We both had delusions of grandeur that we could continue at this pace but we lost our energy by 4-ish and required a coffee drive thru. We needed refueling.

I liked driving Doozer's car because it’s not my 10 year-old Ford Windstop Minivan and it’s zoomy! You can even outrun the cops. My chauffeuring also afforded her a deliciously perfect gawking vantage in the passenger seat. If you have ever been to Portland you will agree that there is much to gawk at in the downtown area. Elmer’s glue shaped into blue colored mohawks, 35 year-old Pippy Longstocking look-a-likes, and guys holding hands with their boyfriends. You know, the usual.

By early evening we had our fill of Starbucks. Doozer finally got online with her internet connection at the hotel. We considered a trip to Powell’s Books and later the Brasserie Montmartre for live jazz and appetizers. We considered some table dancing, mud wrestling, mosh-pits and jello shots as well, but settled on hanging out at the hotel.

We did however share an elevator with two 20 year old hormone-driven dudes holding pizzas and beer cases. Maybe they were on their way to a Bible Study..who knew?

Regardless it was good to have some down time where we could just talk. (Note to self: One drink can lead to wild things like jumping on the hotel beds, throwing laundry soap in the jacuzzi and raiding the maid cart).

Sunday, Doozer had her first pedicure ever and after all toes were beautified, we parked next to Powell’s Books as I astounded her with my perfectly-executed parallel parking. I live in the NW, we can't help being anything but good parallel-parkers up here in the rolling hills of metroland.

We grabbed a bite to eat and waited for someone to quit hogging a window-facing seat while we perused the Laurie Notaro books. Why do people hog window chairs to sit and read their books? It’s rather odd.

We got out of Powell’s in record time, buzzing past Goth Yarn Haired Lady and Man Needing Shower Wearing A Jean Utili-Kilt, weaving through the masses, passing by the Bobble Head Jesus figurines atop the gigantic, locked, occult book display. I can’t even convey how disturbing that is.

We nearly died from the smell once we headed into Buffalo Exchange. If the Goodwill-ish smell didn’t do us in, witnessing a guy being interrogated by two sales clerks for the $3 shirt he ‘wasn’t shoplifting’ certainly did as that was all the excitement we could handle for the day.

A quieter evening ensued, winding down with a rave, illegal fireworks, street racing and egging the Mayor’s office.

Anyway, I had a blast and hope you did too, Doozer. Next time, I’ll come out to visit you and this time I'll bring bail money.