If I ever grow up or get reincarnated, I want to be/come back as Ned Hickson.
This son of a B is one funny son of a B.
Try to get the image of Ned splayed out across a bed out of your head, kids…
You may not want to see this…
Yesterday, I wrote about the obligation we all share in pursuing our weirdness, and how the city of Portland in my home state or Oregon has an unofficial slogan I feel is a noble pursuit: Keep Portland Weird. For those of you who have read my last few posts, you’ve probably figured out I actually spent some time in the City of Weirdness last week. If you haven’t read them, I’m sorry — but it’s too late to issue a spoiler alert.
That being said, during my stay I encountered what was easily the most annoying door in the history or hotel rooms. And as someone who actually read “The History of Hotel Room Doors” by Robert Hookey, you can trust my judgement.
While it would’ve been easy to react by demanding the hotel to bring a can of WD-40 to…
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