It's nice to be back in Portland. After spending some time in the Heartland, a bottle of Dead Guy, Mirror Pond, Blue Heron, or even little Session stubby tastes so nice going down. While in the Midwest, I quickly learned to stop asking what the bar had on tap. It was always the same answer: Miller Light, Coors Light, Bud Light.

What I found so odd is why they only had light beers on tap. It seems incongruous to have only light beers on tap in a place where steak knives are considered a standard utensil. Maybe real men drink beer straight from the neck or it's the equivalent of ordering a Diet Coke at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I'm still scratching my head.

After receiving the standard list of beers on tap at the first place we went, I proceeded to ask what they had in the bottle. The waitress responded, "You name it, we got it." I decided not to test her theory and just ordered a PBR.

Alright, picture. Amuse us with a story using those 1000 words that you're worth. Although, I should mention that there's a huge Wal-Mart just to the right of this scene.

St. Louis was a stop-over for us. A one-night thing on our trip to the thriving metropolis of Effingham so we chose a budget hotel to stay in. It seemed nice enough online (see picture below). Pool, diner next door, and close to the airport. So we chose to stay at the lovely, and oddly-generically named, St. Louis Airport Hotel.

We arrived in St. Louis exhausted from keeping a 2 year-old amused an all day flight. We just wanted to relax in our hotel room and gear up for our travels to Effingham. After running back through security to get a toy we left on the plane, we got our bags, called our hotel for pick-up, and proceeded to walk to the far end of the airport to meet our ride.

We watched all the nice shuttles arrive from hotels such as the Marriott, the Hilton, and the Double-Tree. As these spacious shuttles departed, another vehicle arrived. It was a dirty, beat-up white van with a sticker on the side that, unfortunately, had the name of our hotel on it. Let's call that exhibit A.

As the van pulled up to the brick structure that housed our room for the night, we noticed two things. First, the Airport Diner was closed (as of January) and, second, that the hotel's sign was a cheap banner slung across the entrance. Hmm... Exhibit B and C.

We checked in and entered our little lodging space. The thick odor of smoke was pungent. I called the front desk. "Yes, I requested a non-smoking room and it looks like we got put in the wrong room."

The front desk girl's answer was quite surprising. "Your room is a non-smoking room."

"But there's a dirty ashtray in here and it smells like smoke."

"Oh, the maid must have put the ashtray in there by mistake. I can assure you that you are in a non-smoking room."

Exhibit D.

I hung up and immediately changed our return hotel through Travelocity to somewhere far from the accommodations we were in currently. Of course, the pool was closed (I doubt it ever opened). We stayed the night, got up early, and skipped the shower in the bathroom that wasn't cleaned before we got there (ew!). Our eyes were burning from the lingering smoke and our clothes smelled like we were at an all-night bingo event in a retirement home.

I think that was the earliest I've ever checked out of a hotel. Needless to say, we have learned our lesson. You really do get what you pay for. Even if it's for one night, cough up the extra few bucks and get a hotel that couldn't be the setting for a bad Chevy Chase movie.

We're currently in Effingham, IL. You read that right. Effingham. I still find it hard to say with a straight face. Being from the Northwest, I am amazed at the little things in this rural area of the Midwest. Here, I have choices.

I'm used to choices like "Paper or plastic?" and "Regular or soy milk?" in my daily life. While I'm not sure the latter choice exists here, I've found myself with new choices. Choices that make me pause dumbstruck.

"Would you like the non-smoking or smoking section?"

"You want hash browns or grits with that?"

To a west-coaster like myself you might as well ask, "Would you like what's behind Door #1 or a hot poker in the eye?" I think I'll opt for the door. Although, I should probably get a side of grits before I head back home.

We recently ate dinner with some friends at Henry's (the restaurant housed in the old Henry Weinhart brewery). We asked if they had any crayons for Logan to play with. They used to, but now they've switched to something much cooler (and less messy).

The Etch-A-Sketch.

Not surprisingly, the adults at the table played with it more than the 2 year-old. It got me thinking, though. It seems that the one huge roadblock on the way to Etch-A-Sketch's path to being a viable art medium is the ease with which one can accidentally erase a brilliant piece of artwork.

In order for it to come up to the level of velvet paintings and macaroni art, it really needs a save feature. Maybe a button or lever that holds the aluminum powder in place so that shaking the canvas doesn't destroy a newly-created masterpiece. Then, all you'd need to have is a notch in the back to hang it on the wall and it's ready for the big leagues.

Sure, you can just take a picture of a completed black-and-gray masterpiece, but where's the fun in that?

We recently watched "Man with the Screaming Brain", a film written by, directed by, and starring the irrepressible Bruce Campbell. It was a B-movie that knew it was a B-movie and embraced it like a zombie vampire embraces a scantily-dressed co-ed.

I was originally going to talk about how Bulgaria is the new Canada since the last two low-budget movies ("Man with the Screaming Brain" and "Alien Apocalypse") Bruce has done were both entirely filmed in Bulgaria. First, I thought I'd check out what the B-Man was currently working on and what I found was more than I could have hoped for.

Bruce is currently filming "They Call Me Bruce" right here in Oregon. Here's the synopsis:

"B Movie Legend Bruce Campbell is mistaken for his character Ash from the Evil Dead trilogy and forced to fight real monsters in a small town in Oregon."

I only have one question. Can you pre-order a DVD before a movie is done filming?

Alright, Pluto. You've had your day in the Sun (albeit via an irregular orbit). It's time for you to fade into the starry background of space and become just another big rock.

Just because somebody in 1930 mistakenly called you a planet doesn't mean that you can hang out with the Elite Eight any longer. All scientists need is an excuse and it looks like they now have one. In order to say that 2003 UB313 (or "Xena") is not a real planet, they need a strict definition of what a planet really is. Sorry, Pluto. No more riding the orbital coattails of the other real planets.

I know, it's hard. It's hard for us too, but things change. The world is round, there is no such thing as a Brontosaurus, and it takes a hell of a lot more than three licks to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop. It's just something we all have to get used to.

Bye-bye, Pluto. It was nice knowing you.

Every month Wendy and I look forward to receiving our copy of the greatest community paper ever -- The Sellwood Bee. In part because of the monthly coupon for the Iron Horse (a wonderful, local, and slightly costly, Mexican restaurant), but mostly because of the amount of amusement we get from reading the articles.

They quote themselves all the time. "As reported in THE BEE..." "As THE BEE wrote last month..." It's the written equivalent of talking to someone who refers to him- or herself in third person all the time. "Scott isn't excited about that." "Scott likes his chicken very spicy."

THE BEE topped themselves in the latest issue. In their article about the history of Llewellyn Elementary School ("Llewellyn School Reaches Century Mark"), they actually wrote this:

"Unfortunately, the first Llewellyn School arrived one year before THE BEE newspaper, and consequently, little information about its beginnings has come to light."

Apparently, there was a complete information blackout before THE BEE started reporting news. Events didn't happen before 1906 and, if they did, how important were they if they weren't reported in THE BEE?

Scott can't wait for his next issue of the Sellwood Bee.

I know it's way too early to call whose going to win the primary race for Portland City Council, but I'm going to say that Dave Lister is going to sweep. Because of stance on the issues? No. Because of his rugged good lucks? Nope. Because he hasn't gotten involved in a sex scandal as of yet? Probably not.

No, the sole reason I know that Lister is going to win is that he shares a name with a character on a brilliant British Sci-Fi series called Red Dwarf. The Lister of Red Dwarf is a slovenly, apathetic person of questionable hygiene whose shirts always have curry stains on them. I can't speak for the Lister of Portland, but I'm sure he's not exploring the universe on a mining ship with an android, a hologram, and a person evolved from a cat...at least I hope he isn't because that would make policy making in our town a bit difficult.

But, because of this parallel, I predict that the geek subculture of Portland will vote in record numbers just so they can snicker every time our new City Councilman is mentioned in the news.

I'm happy to bring you, my faithful readers, Chapter 2 in the ongoing saga of the quest for the perfect cup of coffee at home. If you recall from the previous chapter, we left our heroes on the brink of coffee desperation.

After much research, our intrepid explorers found a few highly-rated coffee makers and one was on sale at their local Starbucks. They survived the treacherous journey and returned home with a brand new DeLonghi coffee maker. Once at home, they set it gently in its place of honor and sang praises of its coveted high water temperature point, good water filtration system, and insulated carafe (to keep the coffee nice and warm without burning it).

With a burr coffee grinder in hand, our heroes now have the tools to brew the perfect cup. Five glorious mornings of damn fine coffee later, their coffee needs are finally satiated. The quest is nearing its end.

Stay tuned for the next chapter where our protagonists decide on the golden coffee ratio for their new coffee maker and put it to the test with some of the best coffee in Portland -- Stumptown.

Every Sci-Fi Channel Original movie we have ever watched has sucked rocks. I wish I could think of an exception, but I think it's one of their requirements.

"Sure! We'd love to help make your movie. The plot is confusing, yet formulaic, and the characters are about as well-developed as a two-second-old Polaroid. We'll find some D-List actors who will deliver some piss poor performances to compliment your incomplete screenplay. Congratulations!"

Even so, we get sucked in every time. "I know the last twenty made-for-Sci-Fi movies were painful pieces of crap, but this one actually looks good." Maybe we're masochists or blind optimists. Either way The latest one we watched was "S.S. Doomtrooper" starring Corin Nemic (best known from the 90s TV series "Parker Lewis Can't Lose").

We didn't watch the whole thing, mind you. One great thing about having a child is that I now have an excuse to turn off these Sci-Fi Channel car wrecks and actually do something productive. Before I turned it off, Corin Nemic's character introduced one of his rag-tag group of military misfits as military officer, Parker Lewis.

Oh, it's the little things in life. That reference was completely worth suffering through those first 15 minutes. Maybe Sci-Fi originals aren't that bad after all...

"Do you have a drink with, like, coffee and milk and ice?"