I Love My Ducks

It's true, I went to Oregon, and as a result I'm one of those occasionally obnoxious Ducks fans you can hear screaming "O" from down the street. Or in the booth right next to yours. 

So as the Ducks relaxed in their sheepskin slippers and watched the Buckeyes crumble, I was in the snow-capped mountains of Baker National Park sporting my t-shirt while I entered one of the deepest meditations of my life. 

Mid-way through the meditation my spirit animal came to me and dropped some knowledge. Over the course of the night we sipped whiskey, watched the stars and kept ourselves warm with a pushup contest (he won). Just before he left, he saved my life from a cougar that found itself a little too far north...

My Spirit Animal is a Bad Ass.

Now, after the weekend away from it all, we can all celebrate our newfound position as the most dominant team in College Football. Yes, Oregon is number one, and that means everyone else is going to come hating (including the BCS computers). Haters love to hate, but I myself am more of a lover. And my oh my do I love my Ducks.

It's September 14th

And I feel like writing a blog post.

I also feel like curling up under a blanket with a glass of wine and a nice book (or in the case of this evening, the latest episode of Mad Men).

But first, where the hell have we been? It's been nearly a month since the last time I updated you on the goings on of Our Dear Mutt, and that sad fact makes my bones hurt.

A Surgeon I am not...

Well, here's your update- my hand in a terrarium. Yessuh. We've gotten our hands on something like seventy-five glass globes that we're filling with ideal office environments for our international friends RJohnson (you should re-click that link in a week or so for some terrific terrariupdates, not the smoothest but tee-hee).

In just four days time a few of us Mutts are heading to Vancouver for the weekend to plant (PUN!) these beasts (NOT A PUN!) in the heart of Vancouver's business district. For those of you following Mutt in the friendliest third of North America, here's a little map to help you flourish.

Auf Wiedersehen

That's German for goodbye, something we hate saying here at Mutt, especially to new friends and family. In this case we're losing a member of the pack, Miss Darcie Burrell, one of the summer interns (and then there was one) and second female of the office (Raphie is crushed).

In two short months Darcie has touched every account attributed to Mutt Industries as well as aiding in a few pitches. And she's been killing it. Next week Darcie starts at our old friends W+K, where she'll get to experience life in a big agency. Admittedly it makes us all very sad, but we're all hoping she'll be back. In the meantime she's left us with her face on our plants.

Great work Darcie, thank you for the words, awkward silences and great ideas. It was a pleasure to get to know you, you'll be missed

I Guess This is Goodbye - The Wake Continues

The John Deere Plow Company made tractors in our office.

As always, my spiritual guide and on-again off-again pilates instructor, Scott Cromer, was a stride ahead of me and stole my story.

Let me reiterate his sentiment. Mutt Industries is in mourning today.

The very proud symbol that has guided lost (and overburdened) souls to the Mutt den for our lifetime (and plenty others years before our existence) has officially been lost. Unabashedly washed away by men in white.

We had concerns months ago with the installation of The Mini Strip along the East wall. I imagine we all privately recognized the addition wasn't on the part of the PSC trying to boost it's street cred. Although, for a while you'd have fooled me. It was glorious while it lasted- have you ever seen such amazing big type?

I'm making an effort to be less precious these days, but give me this one. There's something sentimental being destroyed here. I'm disappointed.

I suppose our wildest childhood fantasies have been sort of fulfilled- we're sponsored.

Give us a hand in welcoming your Mutt Industries home to the the Alaskan Airlines Nonstop-To-Who-The-Hell-Cares Building.

I wonder if we can buy Clear Channel out...

One Bad Paint Job.

Yesterday on our way to lunch, the partners and I spotted a man high up on a scaffold whitewashing the iconic Portland Storage Company sign that lords over southeast Portland. At first glance we chuckled and made some smart ass jokes about the sloppy paint job. But moments later, when I finally realized the enormity of what was happening, my heart sank and I spent the next ten minutes stabbing at my Buffalo Chicken Salad.

To a naïve outsider like you, this whole scenario might seem trite and irrelevant. But really it’s not. This sign, this bold beacon of prosperity was our siren. Our lighthouse in dark and troubled times. I remember, upon first moving to the neighborhood, getting lost while out and about in SE Portland. It was late and I had no idea where I was. Yes, I had consumed a few beers and bourbons…but that’s beside the point. As I anxiously gazed westward, I remember finally spotting that cocky sign in all its lighted glory. And smiled as it whispered to me, “Scott, I am the Portland Storage Company. And now you know where you are. You are safe.” It is also told me to go back inside the bar and continue drinking, which I thought was pretty cool too.

So today, as I passed that horrid sellout of a painter, I couldn’t help but remember this special night and contemplate a future without this audacious icon in our lives. Oh Portland Storage Company sign, I weep for thee.

z hard at work

Let There Be Acai

And on the third day, Matthew gave us delicious bowls of Açaí.

Today marks the third day of Sambazon's official launch of the Warrior Up Campaign and we're thrilled. To celebrate our homie Matthew dropped by to make us some Sambazon bowls.
Inside those bowls are all of the essential fatty acids, antioxidants and healthful nutrients your body could ask for. And man is this stuff delicious. I'm not just saying that either, peep the picture below and look at the fruits of our labour.

Now tell me you haven't started drooling all over your keyboard. And while you scrub the saliva from your keys, head over to facebook and Warrior Up.