April 2011

Another blog. About Portland. And other stuff too.

about | archives | twitter | flickr | potma | iphone snapshots | facebook | yelp
rss feed | youtube | links | the burning log


Questions? Comments? Reservations?
anotherportlandblog[at]gmail[dot]com

Another Portland Blog

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

 

In search of "Guts"

[WARNING: This blog post is rated "R." If you read the following and you're under the age of 17, you'll grow hair on your palms, your spine will go crooked and your brain will turn into corn syrup.]

While I'm on the topic of boobs, I may as well relate this wee suburban adventure. A few weeks ago, I attempted to track down an actual, physical, tangible, print edition copy of Playboy magazine.

This is harder than it might seem. 99% of American porn consumers have evidentially made the jump online. Few are still willing to contend with the thought of their mailman seeing a magazine wrapped in black plastic, let alone walking into a store for one. A little iny-net research reveals that Penthouse is on the verge of bankruptcy and even Playboy, the grand daddy of them all, is having a hard time staying afloat. Skin mags are now as obsolete as Betamax.

Now I wasn't looking for a March issue of Playboy to see all the pretty pictures (honest!). I was actually looking for something that would do far more damage to my spine: "Guts." It's a short story by everybody's favorite sick and twisted local novelist. The story earned a nasty little reputation for causing people to faint during Chuck Palahniuk's last US book tour (more on that later).

I figured a quick trip to 7-11 would get me my story. I waited until late on a weeknight to avoid any patronizing looks from other convenience store patrons. The one closest to my house was vacant. I wandered around the store and looked in all the obvious places. If this place was selling Playboys, they must have had them locked in the safe.

Having already spent five minutes perusing the aisles of this 7-11, I was clearly freaking out the clerk, especially with my sneaky attempts to get a glimpse at what lied behind the counter. Out a weird sense of both guilt and embarrassment, I bought a can of Red Bull and quickly made my escape.

Two cans of Red Bull and one tin of 3-D Doritos later, I still didn't have the magazine. 7-11 has apparently phased their adult entertainment products. I was going to have to double my efforts. If I wanted "Guts," I was going to have to make the ultimate sacrifice: setting foot inside a Fantasy Adult Video.




Yeah, I'm a prude. I drove over to location in Beaverton and, strangely enough, it had closed at 11. Aren't these places supposed to stay open all night? Another potential customer was also miffed over the barred access to muff [insert rimshot, not rimjob]. He was now going to have to make the drive all the way to the Burnside location.

Was a mere short story worth all this effort? Naw. I headed for home. Along the way, my eyes fell on a neon Plaid Pantry sign. Would a locally-owned string of Quickie Marts still be selling Playboy? I stopped and the adult mag rack was clearly visible through the window. There was just one thing standing between me and "Guts": a very angry looking goth chick.

Expecting an earful of feminist rhetoric and/or a hearty dose of contempt, I went inside. The conversation went something like this."

"Uh...please...Miss Scary Goth Person can I please...uh... have a Playboy magazine?"

"Why would you want a Playboy? This shows more."

She pulled out a copy of Hustler and tossed it on the counter. Not only was she a Scary Goth Person, she was a connoisseur. The move was pure, razor-sharped sarcasm; a nasty little attempt to make me, an obviously pathetic pervert, squirm. The incident would surely give her plenty of fodder to share with her undead roommates. I had two options: let my face turn red and run, screaming, back to my car or throw down my only card.

"I'm actually looking for the Chuck Palahniuk thing. I heard the March issue of Playboy has it."

"Oh."

I'd suddenly earned this black-haired Guardian o' the Porn's respect. She too was a fan and had read the story. We chatted about all the fainters and the author's subsequent appearance on Conan.

SUCCESS! 45 minutes, numerous unpleasant encounters and $11.23 later, I had my copy of "Guts." But was it worth it?

To be continued...


Comments: Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]



Links to this post:

Create a Link



<< Home


SEARCH THIS BLOG? SURE, NO PROBLEMO, AS BART SIMPSON USED TO SAY....





www.flickr.com




-archives-

  • October 2003
  • November 2003
  • December 2003
  • January 2004
  • February 2004
  • March 2004
  • April 2004
  • May 2004
  • June 2004
  • July 2004
  • August 2004
  • September 2004
  • October 2004
  • November 2004
  • December 2004
  • January 2005
  • February 2005
  • March 2005
  • April 2005
  • May 2005
  • June 2005
  • July 2005
  • August 2005
  • September 2005
  • October 2005
  • November 2005
  • December 2005
  • January 2006
  • February 2006
  • March 2006
  • April 2006
  • May 2006
  • June 2006
  • July 2006
  • August 2006
  • September 2006
  • October 2006
  • November 2006
  • December 2006
  • January 2007
  • February 2007
  • March 2007
  • April 2007
  • May 2007
  • June 2007
  • July 2007
  • August 2007
  • September 2007
  • October 2007
  • November 2007
  • December 2007
  • January 2008
  • February 2008
  • March 2008
  • April 2008
  • May 2008
  • June 2008
  • July 2008
  • August 2008
  • September 2008
  • October 2008
  • November 2008
  • December 2008
  • January 2009
  • February 2009
  • March 2009
  • April 2009
  • May 2009
  • June 2009
  • July 2009
  • August 2009
  • October 2009
  • November 2009
  • December 2009
  • January 2010
  • February 2010
  • March 2010
  • April 2010
  • August 2010
  • September 2010
  • October 2010
  • November 2010
  • January 2011
  • February 2011
  • March 2011
  • April 2011

  • Clicky Web Analytics


    This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?