Page 1

MAGAZINE Volume I, Issue I Summer 2011


What the am I doing?

CONTENTS 5 7 9 11 15


17 Feast 21


23 What the F am I doing? 29 31


33 FORTE 34 36


37 F YOU



We do Facebook and Twitter, too.

Meet the staff.


Editor Rose Finn

What the F is ‘F’? I was on a Stairmaster at my stuffy, windowless gym, reading another trashy women’s magazine. As I trudged along, I realized I wasn’t reading the articles, or even looking at the artwork- I was thinking about how I’d spent all my money that week and I couldn’t decide what to make for dinner. I had no idea when I was going to get my last college paper finished. And when that paper was turned in I would have to decide where I wanted to live and what I wanted to do after I graduated. I didn’t know what I was doing with my life. In our first issue of F, we ask ourselves the same thing everyone our age is secretly asking themselves, the thing I asked repeatedly as I tripped over the Stairmaster in the smelly gym that day: What the F am I doing? Through evocative storytelling and practical reporting, F will cover a range of topics that impact a twenty-something woman’s life. ‘F’ is not a feminist rag, nor a pile of ads preying on stereotypical female insecurities. F is a publication for women that think beyond what they want to buy tomorrow, or who their next boyfriends will be. It is a voice and a commonplace for women in their twenties. It gives us consent to be who we are. If nothing else, F will make you reconsider what a modern women’s magazine can be. Thanks for reading.

Managing Editor & Publisher Emily Hutto Associate Editor Lisa K. Anderson Art Director Leslie Montgomery Web Manager Sho Ito Distribution Manager Kate Malinoski Public Relations Manager Claire Fong

Contributors Writers Eric Diep, Abby Diskin, Stephen Mika, Leah Olson, Suji Paek, Laura Parisotto, Kat Vetrano Designers Megan Gex, Stuart Mayberry Illustrators Megan Gex, Nick Patton, Samantha Cimino Photographers

Rose Finn

Chris Slack, Mike Perrault Copy editors Garrett Russell, Chris Bailey

SPECIAL THANKS TO: Cover photo by Leslie Montgomery

Marianne Montgomery Peevish Penman Backspace Coalition Brewing Lompoc Brewing Oakshire Brewing Upright Brewing Columbia River Coffee Roasters Lonely Dinosaur Wordstock The Cruz Room Mellow Mood Harmony Sage Lawerence Sock Dreams Harriet Weiss Rick Weiss and Kate Finn Anna Anderson Emily Katherine Carol



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Facebook statuses The line “holy infant so tender and mild” makes Baby Jesus sound extremely delicious. Final push! I’m birthing a magazine in a few hours.

Dear girls who have been dumped; there are plenty of fish in the sea. Just kidding the BP oil spill killed them all.

If life gives you melons, you may be dyslexic.

It’s normal for kids to play “doctor”. Start worrying if you find them playing “airport security”.

Horm Maybe green tea does raise your metabolic rate and induce fat loss, but it doesn’t cancel out the cheeseburger and large fries you’re eating simultaneously. It’s just tea, it’s not magic.

The opposite of a cock block is a clam jam.


from last night ”If Ke$ha goes on a tour to the UK does she become Ke£ha?”

Don’t be racist. Be like the panda. They are Black, White AND Asian.

I mustache you a question... but I’ll shave it for later. There’s always that moment of paralyzing fear between when you learn you’ve been “tagged in a photo” and seeing what that photo actually is.

mones! I like my women the way I like my research papers: interesting, intelligent and covered in ink.

”... He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good...” So does everyone. It’s called Facebook.




MY BIKE IS F’ED Words by Eric Diep; Illustration by Megan Gex

The Scenario You’re journeying via bicycle to the grocery store or to the Atlantic Ocean. Halfway there, you realize the brakes are squealing; the chain is clicking. Then you lose your footing as your pedals break. The shit really hits the fan when one of the wheels spontaneously deflates. Here’s what the F to do with your bike:

The Solution Brakes

Brake squeals are caused by pads that are not properly adjusted. To get your brakes to shut the F up, remove the pads by twisting the insert with the Allen wrench. Replace the pads that fit your bicycle, and loosely leave them on to allow for adjustments. They should be parallel to the bicycle’s rim an equal distance away from the rim on either side hitting the wheel only on the rim. Tighten the pads once they’re lined up perfectly and check that both touch the rim by pressing the brake handles.



Lubricant rub pleases chain clicks. Squeeze a drop onto each link while rotating the chain, and then wipe it off with cloth or paper. Give your chain a rubdown at least twice a week, especially during the rainy season. Get down and dirty when chains fall off while in motion. Stop and examine where the chain is jammed. Wiggle it out of its troubled spot and lay the chain on top of the sprocket, and replace the chain on the same ring it fell off of. Lift your bicycle slightly off the ground and turn the crankset until it snaps back into place.

Bike Wheel Removal / Flat Tire

Is the removal of your flat tire is quickrelease or bolted? If it’s a quick release, loosen the lever to the open position. Twist the cap and remove the rod. If it is solid bolts, remove your tire with the wrench. Squeeze the breaks together to release them and unhook the brake cable from the pads. Using the tire lever, move the tire lip over the rim. You may need an additional tire lever positioned further from the first for easier removal. Make a full-circle motion around the tire until it is separated.

The Supplies A die-hard biker should be ready with these common tools, all of which can be found at your local bike shop.

Many of these tools can be consolidated if you switch to a multi tool.

Take a small pump and slightly inflate the tube. Listen for a hissing noise and note its position. The patch kit will come with rubber cement glue. Use the sandpaper to buff a smooth surface. Apply a dab of cement onto the patch and onto the hole in the tube. Rub vigorously to create heat that will set the patch. Then quickly apply the patch. Using your thumbs feel your way around the inside of the tire for the source of your flat and make sure the new tube is not pinched when inserting it into the wheel and the rim. Fit the air value into the hole, and inflate the tire. Wheel is saved.

Wobbly Wheels

Straighten out-of-whack wheels it with a spoke wrench and chalk. Turn your bicycle upside down. Take the piece of chalk and bring it as close as possible to an area between the tire and rim. With your other hand, spin the wheel. The chalk should mark where the wobble is occurring. Now you get to play with some nipples. Is the wobble is on the drive-side or nondrive side of the bike? If the wobble is on the non-drive side and the rim is rubbing against the brakes, tighten the nipples on the drive-side and loosen the non-drive side.


Enough weight or wear can break even the most durable of pedals. Use the wrench to tighten or loosen each side. Insert it into the inside space between the crank arm and the pedal. The drive-side pedal, the gear-side pedal, tightens to the right. The non drive-side pedal tightens to the left.




the burden of bor Soaring education expenses and diminishing job opportunities leave new grads wondering if their degrees were worth it. Words by Emily Hutto; Illustration by Stuart Mayberry


he Boomerangs are an abeyant generation, a lazy progeny of twentysomethings hanging up diplomas in their old bedrooms at their parents’ houses. They sleep ‘til noon while their mommies do their laundry. They are afraid of the real world. They’re unemployed and financially irresponsible. Well, actually, they might just be home to afford paying off their college loans. Last year, America’s student loan debt stood at $850 billion, exceeding national credit card debt. Online financial aid hub sports a live student loan debt clock that estimates accruing federal and private student loans -that number is expected to hit $2 trillion by next year, growing at a rate of $2,853.88 per second. Many students regard their education as an investment. College Board says that college graduates earn up to 60 percent more than high school graduates. So obtaining a college degree will yield a larger paycheck, which will ultimately pay back loans. An article by GOOD magazine, though, estimates that graduating into a poor job market (i.e. our current one) reduces lifetime earnings by 10 to 15 percent. It says, “The unemployment rate among workers with at least a college degree is the highest it has been since the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics began tracking such data, in 1970.” “College means debt,” told Mark Kantrowitz, the website’s publisher, to Reuters last year. According to a policy brief by the College Board, 59 percent of 2008 degree recipients from public and private universities have federal and private student loans –about two in three. A study done by the National Center for Education Statistics estimates that the average amount borrowed by a student that year was $7,100. Kantrowitz expects that the average cost of college is now up to $25,000 per year, further increasing the amount borrowed per student.

Kantrowitz also publishes the website, a comprehensive funding portal that provides each user with an individualized list of scholarships that he or she qualifies for. Students fill out an extensive questionnaire about their background, education, location, activities, and interests to generate the list. The results yield grants, writing contests, and obscure funding programs like the Tall Clubs International Scholarship and the Chick and Sophie Major Memorial Duck Calling Contest. It’s nearly impossible to pay college bills with

scholarships alone. When applying for inevitable loans, pinch some pennies by applying for federally subsidized loans. These don’t accumulate any interest until you begin paying them off, which is usually after graduation. For students still enrolled or about to enroll in college, there’s even more aid available. The Student Aid and Fiscal Responsibility Act that passed last year allocated $13.5 billion dollars to boost Pell Grants, federally funded grants of up to $5,500 that do not require repayment. It will triple the fellowships available for science study programs. It also includes $2.55 billion to expand programs for minorities and $2 billion to strengthen community colleges. This bill barely scratches the surface on college costs, but at least the national agenda is addressing the staggering debt that college students face. Last March, the Health Care and Education Reconciliation Act capped loan payments at 10 percent of a student’s disposable income. It established a policy in which remaining debt after 20 years will be forgiven, if minimum loan payments are consistently made each month throughout those 20 years. The debt of teachers, nurses, and members of the armed forces will be forgiven in 10 years. For graduated folks who’ve racked up college tabs, walletpop. com has a handy article to read: “9 Steps to Paying Back Loans.” Another article, “25 Tips, Ideas, Resources for Paying Back Student Loans” on offers stories of uncommon methods for paying back loans and useful advice about how to consolidate debt. The office of financial aid at your university is another good resource for choosing a payment plan.


















rowing Hear from the recent college grads: “I’ll be paying until I’m about 40...working full time and making monthly payments. I consolidated my loans after graduation and got a really low interest rate so there’s not much incentive to pay them off faster.” -Kristi McElhinney, Marketing Director for Lane Memorial Blood Bank in Eugene, Oregon; 2003 University of Oregon graduate


“I’m going to grad school so I can avoid the whole loan mess a little longer.”

om ery ont g ie M

-Sean Stephens -C.A.R.D. After School Program Coordinator in Chico, California; 2010 University of Oregon graduate


$850 billion

“After 4 years of paying out-of-state tuition fees with government money, I have found myself asking the essential question, “Was it worth it?” At the moment, no. The dream that I once had of exiting college with a clean slate for myself to build upon has vanished. My existentialistic outlook has been replaced by a constant brainstorm of ideas for forgiveness of loans or ridiculous get-rich-quick schemes. I should have stayed in California.”


- Bennet Voorhees, student at Johns Hopkins SAIS - Nanjing University in China; 2009 University of Oregon graduate


Loan Debt

ion b





“I borrowed the money I needed for college from my parents. I’m slowly paying off my debt to them, but at least they don’t charge interest.”

$2 trillion

-Lauren Seiffert, student at U of O Turnbull Center in Portland, Oregon; 2010 University of Oregon graduate




Women’s history Sixty years of fashion and societal shifts Words by Lisa Anderson; Illustrations by Samantha Cimino

s 0 5 9 1

“New Look” Fashion Icons: Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor Defining characteristics: Poodle skirts, saddle shoes, pedal pushers, black leotards, ballerina flats, ponies, cat eye glasses and Hawaiian prints Countercultural group: Beatniks - Also known as the Beat Generation, this literary-focused group was characterized by non-conformist New York City youth. Author Jack Kerouac was an iconic leader of the Beatniks. Jobs: The happy post-war housewife and homemaker is idealized. Women’s positions are often part-time and listed separately from “men’s work” in classified ads. 1950 - Women’s median age at first marriage: 21



“Power Dress Meets MTV”

Fashion icons: Madonna, Cyndi Lauper and Molly Ringwald Defining characteristics: Frills, power suits, shoulder pads, bangles, leggings, big hair, acid wash, spandex, exercise attire and parachute pants Subcultural group: Punk - Influencing art, music, literature, and fashion, punk embraced antiauthoritarianism and rebellion Jobs: Exercise becomes an industry, and maledominated professions, such as law and medicine, become co-inhabited by women. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission prohibits sexual harassment and women gain entrance into the U.S. Army. 1980 - Women’s median age at first marriage: 22


in threads 1960s


Fashion icons: Jacqueline Kennedy, Twiggy and Janis Joplin Defining characteristics: Bell bottoms, miniskirts, peace signs, paisley, tie dye, vests, patches, peasant blouses, go-go boots, and love beads Counter-cultural group: Hippies/ Flower children - Deriving from the term hipster, which was originally used to describe beatniks, hippie denotes awareness. Defining characteristics include psychedelic imagery, opposition to war and recreational drug use Jobs: Betty Friedan’s “The Feminine Mystique” spurs middle class housewives to seek something more. The Equal Pay Act of 1963 prohibits sex discrimination, and the FDA approves oral contraception. Women of all ages, races, classes and educational backgrounds join the work force. 1960 - Women’s median age at first marriage: 20

“Hippie-Disco” s 0 7 9 1

Fashion icons: Farah Fawcett, Bianca Jagger and Charlie’s Angels Defining characteristics: Denim, Western boots, pantsuits, glam, corduroy, polyester, earth tones, loud colors and Afros Counter-cultural group: Black Panthers - A leftist African-American revolutionary organization, The Black Panthers were involved in the black power movement of the 1960s and ‘70s. Jobs: The Equal Rights Amendment, Title IX and Roe V. Wade pass, creating increased educational and vocational options for women. 1970 - Women’s median age at first marriage: 21



s 0 9 9 1

“Minimalist Chic”

Fashion icons: Jennifer Aniston, Kate Moss and Sarah Jessica Parker Defining characteristics: Minimalist designs, Dr. Martens, flannel, power beads, platform shoes, black, overalls, velvet shirts and tattoos Countercultural group: Grunge - Also known as “Seattle Sound” and defined by a fan base, Grunge became prominent during Nirvana’s reign. Originating as a form of alternative rock, Grunge has DIY roots and cynical undertones Jobs: Women navigate the balance of parenthood and careers. “Supermom” and “Soccer mom” pervade the media. The Violence Against Women Act passes and women make up 46 percent of the American workforce. 1990 - Women’s median age at first marriage: 24

0s 0 20


Fashion icons: Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lopez and Lady Gaga Defining characteristics: Low-rise jeans, blazers, graphic T-shirts, bare-midriffs, tank tops, trucker hats, hip-hop clothing, flip-flops, ponchos, “green” fashions, scarves and highlights Countercultural group: Hipsters - Revived from the 1940s, hipster now connotes a molding of the aforementioned subcultures and emphasizes independent culture among young urban-ites. Jobs: The glass ceiling dissipates further as Nancy Pelosi becomes the first female Speaker of the House, Ann Dunwoody becomes the first 4-star general of the U.S. military, and Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan become Supreme Court justices. President Obama signs the Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Restoration Act in 2009. 2000 - Women’s median age at first marriage: 25+

The number of working women rose from 18.4 million in

1950 2008

Women earned 59 percent of the wages men earned in in


2005 1963

to 65.7 million in


they earned 77 percent of men’s wages.

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A single gift to Work for Art will benefit the entire

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voices on:


the egytpian


gyptian protesters made political history this year with a series of demonstrations and acts of civil disobedience, subsequently overthrowing the regime of President Hosni Mubarak. They demanded a higher minimum wage, free elections and free speech. For three decades, many Egyptians lived with food price inflation, high unemployment rates, and the country’s emergency law, which allowed the government to arrest without warrant and detain prisoners indefinitely. The revolution began with demonstrations on January 25, 2011. This revolution has been widely acknowledged as one of the youngest and quickest in history. The vast dissemination of information (such as where and when protests would begin) to Egyptians, especially to young civilians, was a key factor in the success of this political overthrow. Though social media wasn’t what triggered the protests, it did significantly aid in its expeditionthe whole overthrow took place in 18 days. On February 11, 2011, President Mubarak stepped down, relinquishing his authority to the Supreme Council of Armed Forces. Months later, the new leadership and empowered people are in reactionary mode. The collective rage at their political oppression has now become divided among different religious sects within the Egyptian population. The Salafist, a more traditional sect of the Muslim Brotherhood, would like to see their religious background become more prominent in Egyptian politics. Egypt is predominately Muslim, but has a ten percent Coptic Christian population that has existed peacefully for centuries, until now. Tensions between religious groups are rising. Recent reports reveal that Christian churches are being set aflame. Egypt’s neighbors Lybia, Syria, Bahrain and Yemen, have experienced protests since


February. Egypt’s revolution has inspired change in countries that also have suffered prolonged oppression.

Here’s what some politicians, journalists, civilians and students had to say about the revolution: •“All of the social indicators were there; oppressive government for 30 years, classist society, no healthy economic growth, censored political opinion... Everyone knew that Mubarak was going to get forced out, we just had no idea when. The situation was predictable, the timing of it was astounding.” - Zach Grimmer, BA in Political Science, born and raised in Egypt •“Almost every Egyptian I’ve spoken with, plus myself, is hoarse. Too much teargas, smoke from burning buildings, shouting and talking. #Jan25.” -- @bencnn, a revolutionary, via Twitter •“Social media is a key driver, a game changer in Egypt primarily because it bridged the gap between social classes,

thus for the first time creating a much larger united anti-government front that included rich and poor.” - Arab Media Influence Report 2011 by The News Group, based on a case study of the Egyptian Revolution •“There is a success story of social media for activism: The Egyptian Facebook page that drew awareness to torture and mobilised thousands; the Syrian students whose cell phone videos of teachers abusing students led to the teachers’ dismissal; every rabble-rousing campaign to free an imprisoned blogger.” - from “The Dangers of Social Media Revolt” in Aljazeera, Jillian C. York • “It is not for the United States, it is not for any other government, it is not for the media, it is not for those outside to dictate to the Egyptian people how they intend to proceed. Revolutions in and of themselves don’t produce the outcome that is sought. They’ve achieved the goal of changing the government, but what happens next? That is where Egypt is and that is what the Egyptian people have to lead us through.” - US Secretary of State Hilary Rodham Clinton to Aljazeera. • “Thank you, Egypt. Western political scholars and media pundits had long-since written off a democratic Middle-East. One fact remains unquestionable, though; the military will serve as the dominant force in this Egyptian transition. It was throughout Mubarak’s reign, and Anwar-al Sadat before him. The absence of widespread bloodshed was a direct result of the militaries’ unwillingness to accede to Mubarak’s demands. What type of democracy will they allow?” - Stephen Mika, BA in Political Science, born and raised in the United States


Give your two cents about the Egyptian revolution at


There’s an app for that? How I learned to lose weight without losing sanity Words by Kat Vetrano; Photos by Mike Perrault Dieting has gone digital. People concerned with what they eat can fill in every bite on websites like,, and These sites provide calorie counts for restaurant dishes, as well as spaces where you can plug in your own recipes to see how they add up calorically. Too busy to stay at home and type on your computer? Now there’s even an app for your smart phone in which you can plug in everything that goes in your mouth, wherever you may be. You can also log what exercises you’ve done, including everything from snow shoveling to sex. I wasn’t concerned with weight loss until I moved to the great culinary city of Portland. It was only a matter of time before I realized that I couldn’t be as carefree as I was in college about food; it was catching up with me—or rather, my stomach and my arms. So last year I became more conscious of my lifestyle. I limited refined carbohydrates, like white rice and potato chips, to the weekends. I tried to make the majority of my meals plant-based. I took dance classes. As the months went by, I dropped off the newly gained Portland pounds. I was ecstatic—I was learning more and more about food, and I was feeling good. Then I downloaded the Lose It! app, thinking that it would help to keep me on track. That’s when my attitude toward food shifted drastically. It told me how many calories my Zumba class burned, and how many calories my soba noodles and ice-cold gin and tonics added up to. And then—though I hate to admit it— I became obsessed. I plugged in everything I ate into the app. Every bite. Even the healthy food choices I was making weren’t good enough -the olive oil on my salads made me feel guilty. I started to work out more than once a day, often staying at the gym for an extra hour or two in the weight room just so I could tally the numbers in my phone. I was at the weight I wanted to be, but for some reason I wanted to lose more. Until Lose It!, I was never the dieting type.


I was always the friend who could be talked into staying for one last drink, or splurging on popcorn at the movies. I’ve always said I loved my body in every curvature. But there I was, worrying. If I had a particularly unhealthy day, I would avoid my phone, knowing I’d have to see the disappointing numbers on that tiny screen. And just to make sure I knew I’d messed up, the screen would turn the color of Red Hots every time I exceeded my calorie limit— It practically screamed You have lacked in self control today! That kind of scolding should have forewarned me that this was not an ideal app choice, but I kept

I plugged in everything I ate into the app. Every bite.

using it. I couldn’t ignore my phone for long because when I did, I felt it phone burning a hole in my purse, reminding me that I hadn’t logged that M&M or that glass of wine. One evening, my boyfriend and I went out to a local pizza joint to indulge. We both ordered humongous slices of thick pizza with soft, doughy crust, just how I like it. We shared a pitcher of dark beer and laughed all night. The next morning, I walked out in my kitchen for a glass of water and there on my coffee table sat my phone, glaring at me. I hadn’t logged the pizza and beer. I felt a pang in my stomach. The next day, I was reading Michael Pollan’s “In The Defense of Food”, and something clicked. I read about Orthorexia nervosa, which Pollan explains is an unhealthy obsession with healthy eating. Sufferers are obsessive-compulsive about food selection, and often plan their meals in advance. They designate “good” and “bad” foods and strictly adhere to a regimen of good choices. I’d designated my dark beer and pizza as “bad,” and it touched so close to home it scared me. And that was when I realized things had gone too far. I didn’t want to be someone who couldn’t enjoy a summer night out with my boyfriend. I was a food writer for chrissake! Who was I letting down by enjoying a slice? My phone? I picked up the device and made a change. Are you sure you want to delete this app? Deleting this app will cancel all of its data. Yes, I was sure. I didn’t delete my healthy eating habits, though. In fact, I kept reading about nutritious food and experimenting in my kitchen. Sites like and, as well as books by Mark Bittman all offer up opportunities for me to cook good food instead of diet food. I utilize fruits, veggies and whole grains. I research portions and eat accordingly. When I do indulge, I remind myself that I wanted to, and that it’s okay. And I don’t tell my phone about it later.

ummer S Recipes

Photos courtesy of

Kat Vetrano grew up on her mother’s cheesy potato casserole in Northern California’s wine country. Now she’s a food writer for Portland State University’s The Daily Vanguard and her personal blog Cooking While Eating. Here are her summer recipes:

Transition Frittata 2 tablespoons of olive oil 1 shallot, minced salt and freshly ground pepper 3 cups frozen peas, thawed 2 cups chard (any variety), ribs removed and cut into ribbons 1/4 cup of mint 3 eggs 2 tablespoons parmesan cheese Preheat the broiler. Heat the olive oil in a large ovenproof skillet at medium heat on the stove. When the oil is hot, add the shallot and season with salt and pepper. Saute until the shallot is soft, about three minutes. Add half of the peas and half of the chard to the pan. Saute until the chard is starting to wilt, about five minutes. Add the rest of the peas and chard, and raise the heat slightly. Add the mint, and let the mixture cook until the rest of the chard is wilted and there is little moisture left in the pan, about ten minutes. Meanwhile, combine the eggs and parmesan in a small bowl and whisk with a fork. Season with lots of salt and pepper. Add the egg mixture to the pan, tilting the skillet to make sure the mixture is evenly distributed. Let the frittata cook about ten minutes more, until the egg is no longer wet. Slide the frittata under the broiler and cook until lightly browned, about three minutes. Let the frittata cool, slice and serve. Serves 2-4.

Orecchiette with Asparagus Pesto and Goat Cheese 1 lb asparagus 1¼ /4 cup pine nuts 1 clove garlic, minced half the zest from one lemon ¼1/4 cup olive oil 3 large handfuls spinach Juice from one lemon ¼1/4 cup parmesan cheese 1 package orecchiette, preferably whole wheat 1/4 cup goat cheese crumbles Cut the woody ends from the asparagus. Then, cut the asparagus spears into small one-inch pieces. Put a large saucepan of salted water to boil. Add asparagus and cook for five to ten minutes until tender and bright green. Drain and rinse under cold water to stop the cooking. Bring a small skillet to a low heat and add the pine nuts. Toast for about 10 minutes, or until they become a light brown. Remove from heat. Add garlic to the food processor with the blade running. When the garlic is chopped, turn off the machine and add the asparagus, the lemon zest and the cooled pine nuts. Pulse a few times until the mixture is chunky. Then, with the motor running, drizzle in the olive oil. Keep the processor going for two minutes more, then turn the machine off. Next, add the spinach and process more for about five minutes until the mixture is smooth and a light green. Add the lemon juice and pepper and pulse once. Spoon the mixture into a small bowl and fold in the Parmesan. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed. Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil and cook pasta according to package directions. Drain, and toss hot pasta with the asparagus pesto and goat cheese. Season with salt and pepper, and enjoy. Serves 3-4.

The Sun Cocktail Simple Syrup 1 cup of sugar 1 cup of water Cocktail 4 ounces of high quality gin (Hendrick’s is a good option) 1 once of Cointreau The juice from four Meyer lemons 4 tablespoons of simple syrup (see recipe below) 1 cup of ice Simple Syrup To make simple syrup, bring the sugar and water to a boil a small saucepan. Bring the mixture back down to a simmer, and cook until all the sugar has dissolved. Let cool completely and store in the fridge. Cocktail Place all ingredients in a shaker. Shake for 45 seconds vigorously. Pour into glasses, and enjoy. Serves 3.



Fix-it feast

WHAT THE F•••• SHOULD I MAKE FOR DINNER? Fare: Spring 2011 Interview by Emily Hutto TITLE?

Photos by Mike Perrault

“It’s a party in your mouth, and everybody’s coming, so make some fucking… Slow-Braised Boneless Short Ribs.” These words are bold and black on a white website page. Below you have two options to click: “I don’t fucking like that,” and “I don’t fucking eat meat.” If you choose meatless, the next screen reads, “Your crunchy, granola ass wants some fucking… Vegetable Curry.” The menu options continue until you find what the F you’re going to make for dinner. We caught up with’s creator Zach Golden, who, surprisingly enough, didn’t drop the F-bomb once during our interview. How did you get the idea for your website?

I get home late from work every night and my girlfriend and I were always crippled with the decision of what to make for dinner. whatshouldimakefordinner. com was already taken.

Who visits

I’ve had 13 million visitors from all over the world. People email me all the time with the most asinine ideas of what I should do with the site, but it hasn’t changed since the day it launched. I’m not trying to monetize it, either. I want it to be [simply] a functioning household tool.

Do you work in the food industry?

Do you eat fish?

I take a firm stance for pro-meat eating. Limiting yourself to not eating delicious animals is silly.

What do you like to eat?

I love fried chicken and anything pork. I have a meat tooth- I crave steak when I wake up. I live in Brooklyn where there is really good soul food that I take full advantage of. I have the worst diet ever.

What’s the last thing you made in your kitchen? What do you do when you’re not cooking, or writing, or updating your website? Doesn’t sound that boring.. So what the F are you making tonight?


I grew up [where] working in restaurants as a dishwasher and a bus boy. I was a short order cook at a shitty café, and then I got a job at a really nice French restaurant. I ultimately decided to write for a living so I didn’t come home smelling like fish anymore.

Artichoke ravioli with sautéed mushrooms. I sleep a lot. I’m frequently at a dog park with my Golden Retriever Australian Shepherd mix Oscar, throwing a tennis ball back and forth. I try to watch 2 to 3 episodes of Law and Order each day. I’m pretty boring. Yeah, I love Law and Order. Brussels sprouts. Here’s my recipe: .

• • • • • • • •


Extra-virgin olive oil Salt and pepper 1/2 cup shallots, chopped

2 teaspoons mustard seed 4 ounces bacon 1/4 cup white wine, Chardonnay preferably

Photos courtesy of

1 pound Brussels sprouts

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

Preparation “Preheat your oven to 400°F. Halve the sprouts. Rinse ‘em off, don’t fucking peel that shit: they’re going into a scorching hot oven, don’t be a pussy. Put them in a lowsided roasting pan and olive oil, salt, and pepper the shit out of them. Brunoise some shallots, throw those on there too and add the mustard seed. Roast them for about 30 minutes. Pull them out when they are tender and taste good. Dice some bacon and brunoise some more shallots. Cook the bacon until perfectly crisp -don’t fuck this up. Take the bacon out of the pan and reserve the fat. Throw the shallots into the same pan and crank the heat. Sautée in the bacon fat for about four minutes, until caramelized. Add the white wine and Dijon mustard, whisk the fuck out of it, and add more salt and pepper. Dress the Brussels sprouts with the vinaigrette in the pan, drop that bacon on there too and toss that shit.” Zach has many more recipes to share in his “What the Fuck Should I Make For Dinner” cookbook that will debut late this summer. You can find it online or at Urban Outfitters.






Correcting cardio Working out really only works out when one can strike a balance between cardio and strength training activity. I learned this the hard way. Words by Emily Hutto in collaboration with Sachie York; Image by Leslie Montgomery


get paid to run. I work for Portland Dog Runner, and it’s my job to go out running with my canine clients. I take each critter out for a 40-minute jaunt two, three, sometimes four times per week. And I have a lot of critters. It all adds up to about 30 miles per week. When I first took the job, I was always exhausted, and always hungry. I had consistent shin splints. I would wake up early to run one morning and stay out past dark running the next night. I had five dogs that belonged to five families who all had different schedules that I had to accommodate. Sometimes I would run all five in one day. I felt frail. My jeans and t-shirts sagged on arms and legs that were trim, but not toned. I was making a mistake that a lot of women make when it comes to aerobic activity: too much cardio, and not enough strength training. During long periods of cardio, the body grows accustomed to burning sugar, or glucose, and holds onto it as a reserve energy source. My excessive running was causing a buildup of sugar in my body, and I needed stronger muscles to break it down. Strength training activities (such as lifting free weights, using weight machines, squats, lunges, pushups and pull-ups, among others) boost the number of proteins in the body that transfer glucose from blood to muscle, which gives the muscles more energy for the exercise, and lowers blood sugar levels. A purely cardiovascular-based fitness regiment is harmful not only because of the resulting high blood sugar levels, but also because it can catalyze osteoporosis. Extreme amounts of cardio, like running, can be especially damaging because of long, consistent slamming on joints, which can cause an abnormal loss of bone tissue. So I was losing bone mass, and could have been losing my brain power, too. A 2010 study by the Archives of Internal Medicine reports that subjects who did strength training exercises one to two times per week for a year improved their executive function, a group of cognitive abilities. Executive


function allows people to anticipate the outcome of circumstances, troubleshoot, and manage dangerous and highly technical situations. I wanted to rid my body of unnecessary sugar, prevent osteoporosis, maintain my brain function, and look smokin’ in a bikini, so I hit the gym for a free trial, and realized that a lot of other women weren’t balancing cardio and strength training, either. Like most gyms, my neighborhood rec center had a chronic case of middle school dance syndrome, with boys and girls in their

respective corners. Women flocked to the cardio machines, while men retreated to the opposite side to lift barbells. “The majority of women are pretty intimidated by the weight floor,” says Chelsea Stutzman, a master trainer at 24 Hour Fitness. “They have this idea that weight rooms are going to be packed full of muscly men who are going to watch their every move.” Most of the time, though, these dudes are focused on themselves in the mirror - they really don’t care what you’re doing.

Natural Sources of:

Calcium Milk Swiss Cheese Mozzarella Cheese Soybeans Black Beans Spinach Bok Choy Broccoli Almonds

Vitamin D Salmon Tuna Mackerel Milk Eggs Sunshine!

At-Home Workouts “I always tell my clients to be selfish at the gym,” says Stutzman. “Because that’s what everyone else is doing.” Everyone has their own regimen to compliment their lifestyle. Stutzman’s regimen consists of training with free weights and machines five days each week. “On Monday I’ll focus on my legs, Tuesday I’ll hit my shoulder muscle groups, Wednesday I’ll do back exercises. Thursday I’ll do my chest, and on Friday I will do legs again. Everyday I do some type of core work and 30 to 45 minutes of cardio afterwards.” For me, Stutzman recommends strength training at least three to four times per week to support how much I run. She also suggests that I put more calcium and Vitamin D in my diet because calcium helps to build strong bones and Vitamin D helps the body to absorb calcium. Finally she says I need to have a protein source (such as eggs, seafood, nuts, chicken, turkey, quinoa, soy, rice + beans, or tempeh) at every meal to sustain the muscle mass that I’m going to build. Though I’m far from dieting, muscle mass will burn more of the calories that I consume. For women who are trying to lose weight, strength training can give them their desired results because more muscle mass means a higher metabolic rate, or the rate at which bodies burn calories. “When weight training, cardio, and healthy eating are properly combined, one’s metabolic rate may increase as much as 30 percent to 40 percent,” says strength coach Jason Shea. The experts made it clear: I needed to add healthier eating and strength training to my routine. I knew what I needed to do, but I realized quickly that dense muscles meant a thin wallet. Many women, myself included, can’t afford gym memberships and personal training. So I found a set of 10-pound weights for 20 dollars, a resistance band for ten, and a yoga mat for 15. Viola! A home gym set-up for less than the cost of one month’s membership at 24 Hour Fitness. John Sifferman, a fitness trainer and columnist for, suggests using “real world” weights like stones, logs and rocks in lieu of barbells and dumbbells. He also recommends taking breaks during runs to do squats and lunges in the park. Yoga, pilates, and paddling are all good strength training activities, too. Stutzman,

You Are Your Own Gym

“The Bible of Body Weight Exercises” by Mark Lauren Author and Military Physical Training Specialist Mark Lauren provides nutrition suggestions and motivation techniques alongside 30-minute workouts in this DIY fitness guide. He has designed a fitness program that uses the resistance of your own body weight to strengthen your muscles.

The Pilates Body

“The Ultimate At-Home Guide to Strengthening, Lengthening, and Toning Your Body--Without Machines” by Brook Siler A lot of words written about specific workouts can be vague, but the photography and graphics in this book clear up any confusion that might arouse when doing exercises on your own at home. The best part about the 60 plus exercises in this book: each one only requires a yoga mat. Podcasts This site sports more than 100 20-minute yoga sessions that you can choose to fit your lifestyle, including yoga for runners, relaxation yoga, office yoga and yoga with weights.

Abs on 8 Minute YouTube Do this cheesy 80s classic every other day for two weeks, and you’ll feel results, and possibly the urge to bust out some fluorescent spandex.

Women’sHealth Workouts App Good for both in and out-of-gym workouts, this is a useful tool that gives instructions for 120 exercises organized by the part of the body they target. The app also logs your workout sessions to keep you on track.

Sifferman, and every other knowledgeable fitness source, says that whether it’s in or out of the gym, most women need to incorporate strength training into their lifestyles for 30 minutes, 3 to 4 times each week. “You need to change what you’re doing on a regular basis,” Stutzman says. “If you continue to do the same thing over and over, your body adapts. Keep your body guessing by mixing it up.”

and pumping free weights -all in my bedroom, and sometimes the park. I’ve also transformed my diet to compliment my running, and started taking a Calcium and Vitamin D supplement. In my case, strength training and diet considerations weren’t just essential for my health, they were crucial to my work. Without my four-legged friends, I might not have realized how critical the balance of cardio, resistance and diet really is.

I never did join the gym. These days the 30 miles I run each week are interspersed with yoga poses, lunges, squats, sit-ups,

Dog running was never an occupation I expected to have, nor did I predict it would be so useful in shaping my life -and my ass. FTHEMAGAZINE.COM ||



Amid major life changes, twenty-somethings ask the elusive question:

what the Conquering Nepal’s Media Industry, One Small Victory at a Time Words by Leah Olson The sentence reads: “God is omnipresent.” I drum my fingers, sigh and lean back at my desk. After tidying stacks of papers in front of me, I cap my red pen and get ready for what I have a feeling will be an exhausting endeavor. I get up from my chair, taking with me the draft of the article, which has already been laid out with photographs in its magazine format and is now in my hands for final editing. “Pragya, I have a problem with this,” I say and show her the papers covered in red marks. Pragya, the mild-mannered editorial secretary, is the author of this particular article, which is to accompany a photo essay titled “Devotee,” that chronicles daily worship practices of Hindu Nepalis. “It’s this first sentence,” I say. “We just can’t publish it as is.” Pragya blinks at me quizzically from her corner desk. “Why?” she asks, almost whispering. I rest my elbow on the partition between our cubicles and let out a breath. “Because it’s a blaring generalization. God may be omnipresent to you, but maybe not for someone else. Just because you may believe in God or gods doesn’t mean everyone else does. We can’t assume things like that in the magazine.”


“What?” She blinks some more and looks confused. I know I’m going to be fighting an uphill battle on this one, but with my atheistic sentiments and recently completed journalism school training weighing on my shoulders, I absolutely refuse to let this sentence slip into publication. “For example,” I explain, “What if one of our subscribers who doesn’t believe in God reads this sentence? Don’t you think they would be offended that we assume they believe in God? We would be claiming that God is everywhere, when in fact, for this person God is nowhere. They might be so offended that they would stop reading the magazine altogether. Do you see what I mean?” “But this is Nepal,” she says coolly. “Everyone believes in God.” I know there is a great deal of truth in what Pragya says because religion truly does pervade almost every aspect of life in Nepal. More than 80 percent of Nepalis are Hindu, with the remaining 20 percent being a mix of Buddhist, Muslim, Christian and other indigenous religions. There are temples and shrines tucked in every corner of Kathmandu and it seems that almost

every other day is a religious holiday. I’ve never once met an atheist Nepali, but I’m convinced that there is at least one in existence who might read our magazine, so I refuse to give up. “Well, I highly doubt that every single person in this country believes in God. But even if 99.9 percent of Nepalis are religious, we still can’t publish it without thinking of that 0.1 percent of people who don’t. I’m going to re-write it.” After several rewrites and 30 more minutes of explanations and religious debates with editors, sub-editors, copy editors, photographers and layout guys, all of whom seem to disagree with me, I smugly return to my desk triumphant. The sentence now reads: “For most of the devout in Nepal, God is omnipresent.” This is a small but reassuring victory. It is a victory that makes me a bit more confident when I wonder why I’m far from home doing this job. I’ve wondered why almost every day since I arrived at my first job, my first job out of college, as a writer and assistant editor for a lifestyle magazine based in Kathmandu. I envisioned myself as a member of the

am i doing? booming Nepali media industry, traveling the country for stories, trekking deep into the jungle and scaling Himalayan peaks in search of good material. I would become an adventurous fusion of Anne Curry, Nicholas Kristof and Anthony Bourdain, I was sure of it. But four weeks in, to my chagrin, I hadn’t discovered much except that the Nepali work week is 6 days long. I had become nothing but an exhausted desk drone. Those first four weeks included a lot of sitting, hundreds of pages of copy-editing and simple grammar corrections, one incident of catching a blatant Wikipedia plagiarism and endless web surfing. Every evening I walked home and thought over and over What am I doing here? I just graduated with a journalism degree. I came here looking for adventure, the unknown, a change, but this is what I’m doing? Working myself to the point of exhaustion, fighting daily battles about the proper place to put a quotation mark, for a paltry sum of rupees that could

hardly sustain these damn monastic living conditions? I cursed my need for adventure because it had truly backfired. That night I returned to my apartment fuming about my situation. I wondered what to do. Quit? Ask for more money, a lot more money? Ask to work less hours (during which I could accomplish the same amount of work)? I wasn’t sure if surviving on small “God is omnipresent” victories would be enough to keep me going for a year. This wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. I had moved to Nepal, adventurers’ paradise, but was chained to a desk six days a week. Something had to give. I knew it would take maneuvering and hard bargaining with my bosses. I called a meeting with the three top managers, Nripendra, Sudeep and Niladri, all who arrived wearing perfectly pressed suits and looking dreadfully sullen. The three men sat in a semi-circle facing me, crossed their legs, folded their arms and raised their eyebrows. I sat tall and arranged myself in what I thought was a “confident” looking posture. I suddenly wished I had taken some business classes. But then again, I wasn’t sure if they offer “The Art of Bargaining With Nepali Businessmen 101” at my university, so I dove right in. “This isn’t exactly working for me,” I

explained, trying not to break under their cold gazes. “I feel like I don’t have enough say in the direction of this magazine. Also, I feel like I could accomplish in four days the same amount of work I do in six. I think I should do less office work and more outside writing. What this magazine needs is fresh, new content, which I am prepared to write. So far, as the editor, I’ve done nothing but fill out spreadsheets and copy-edit grammatical errors. Starting from next week I’d like to work mostly outside the office.” Nripendra, Niladri and Sudeep sat in their shades-of-gray suits and glanced at one another. The next 30 minutes were spent in negotiations. Who would do the copy editing, they asked? The copy editor, of course. Who would fill out the spreadsheets? Why, it will be Pragya, the secretary. Who will keep track of the six-month article planner? The magazine manager can manage. I walked out of the meeting and breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure what the outcome would be, but I felt I had said exactly what I wanted to say. The next day, the editors asked me to go out on assignment to a small village. It would be my first real writing assignment. That night I went home satisfied... no, elated. I wasn’t quite Nicholas Kristof or Anthony Bourdain yet, but it was a start. FtheMAGAZINE.COM ||



The First Fall



Words by Abby Diskin I had my heart set on moving to New Mexico. I imagined the Southwest as a place brimming with inspiration. I dreamt of hiking in the desert to study rock formations and petroglyphs, but things took a different turn. The gradually fading leaves signaled a change. September would be the first month in four years I wouldn’t register for college classes. My bank account held a mere $50, and October’s rent was looming. Jobless, I was watching my life pass me by. At a time when I most wanted to be independent, I couldn’t be. For the following three months, I walked circles through a maze without a map, playing an exhausting game of “search and apply”. Each time I sent a cover letter, my hopes would swell and drop after hearing nothing. One afternoon, I called Mountain Rose Herbs to follow-up on my application, and the woman on the other line informed me that I was one of 300 people who had applied for the same customer service job. I dialed my Dad’s number next. and I asked if I could move in. “Only for two months,” I promised, praying that would be true. “I just need to save some money until I figure out what I’m doing.” I sat in disbelief. The last time I lived with my dad I was 15. All I wanted to do was crawl back in bed and sleep through the afternoon. The next day I balanced an overstuffed box and nudged my dad’s guest room door open with my shoulder. The air was stale, and I worried if I could feel at home here. That night, I strung white Christmas lights around the room,

hung a glass lamp from the ceiling and placed a vase of turkey feathers in the bathroom, trying to create familiarity. The next morning I decided to go for a hike, even if I wasn’t in New Mexico’s wilderness. The air was crisp as I started down the hill. Our neighbor’s cows looked like a mirage the way the fog swirled around them. Nothing mattered that morning but keeping my feet moving and my arms swinging. I kept moving on the job front, too. I had applied to write for a jewelry company in Albuquerque. I put so much energy into fantasizing about life in New Mexico, that when I received an e-mail saying I had made it to the second round of applicants, I felt like everything was falling into place. I waited to hear something for another three weeks, anticipating they would give me an interview. Finally I received a letter in the mail saying that they had chosen another candidate. My heart sank. My Dad tried to comfort me by telling stories of all the odd jobs he’s had. “Sometimes you have to throw a lot of mud at the wall before some sticks,” he said, reassuring me. “I know something good will come your way.” I nodded, wiping the tears that had gathered under my chin. “Thanks, Dad.” That was one of the only nights we sat at the kitchen table together. It was nice to have the T.V. off for a while. That nights I lay in bed and gazed at the colorful glass lamp hanging from the center of my ceiling. The lamp became a meditative image for me. I’d close my eyes and feel its warm glow. On nights like these when worries about unemployment and my future taunted me, I looked up at the lamp and let my mind drift. It wasn’t New Mexico, but for the first time in months, I felt at home.

“Sometimes you have to throw a lot of mud at the wall before some sticks,”


Heard from Harriet Ideas given by an Interior Designer

Spice up your space Submit your dilemmas at Look for FREE answers in the next issue of F Magazine


This Land Is Your Land Words by Rose Finn

I’ve been interested in sex and politics since I was 17 when Bush Jr. was reelected, and I started taking birth control. A year later, I was accepted to the University of British Columbia. I knew would be my ticket out of America’s regressive politics and conservative attitude towards sex. My first two weeks of college in Vancouver were an unsettling blur of going to bars, taking shots off of my dorm mate’s stomach, kissing strangers and waking up a knotted pile in my bed every morning. I wanted to meet new friends who were more than hung over memories, but everyone seemed so inaccessible. I’d strike up conversations with people in the cafeteria and in my classes, and they’d stay focused on their food and books. I’d sometimes pretend to smoke a cigarette with the smokers even though I didn’t smoke, in the attempt to make someone bite onto my conversational bait. After I finished my first year, I didn’t have any friends, I wasn’t any closer to knowing what I wanted to study, and I’d failed the one subject I’d wanted to major in. But I wasn’t ready to give up my dreams of immigrating to a country with universal health coverage, intelligent people, and hot Canadian tail. The following weekend, I called a girl I’d met in class, and she was eager to include me in her circle. I soon found myself walking down the street in my new friend’s vintage nightie, purple tasseled boots, and more gold jewelry than the entire “Jersey Shore” cast. I had no idea where we were going, but I didn’t care— and it was only partly because of the circulating whiskey. We arrived at the Canadian Cultural Centre, packed with hundreds of people. A live Gypsy Carnival band serenaded us as we walked in. Vendors sold chocolate; some with magic mushrooms, some with almonds. Twenty people were atop a giant Twister board. We walked into the main room to find tents set up for petting and spanking. I soon learned I was at a political party campaigning for a 30-hour work week. I saw one of the campaign managers sashaying through a conga line, and it suddenly hit me: I was in a very different country. Vancouver venues always seemed to host some event involving middle aged


people in drag, nearly naked and rolling on drug cocktails. It appeared to me that Vancouver’s sex and drug culture was for the rich, middle-aged crowd. Though these sex-dominated events, I couldn’t help but notice that sex, or the pursuit of it, wasn’t happening anywhere else. I never witnessed people hitting on each other. Canadian men ignored me at bars, school, and my coffee shop job. Any time I’d make a joke or point out one of their cute characteristics, they’d respond, “Well, have a good day, eh?” and scurry away.

I needed to get my mind off of my urgent need to bone, so I started following the US Presidential election. I bought new clothes and deodorant that wasn’t for men. I pierced my nose. I tried changing my state of mind; be aloof, be vulnerable, be a dick. After none of these attitudes made any difference in the amount of penis I was (not) seeing, I gave up. And that didn’t work, either. I felt hopeless, like Alice in Wonder-where-thedick-is-land. I needed to get my mind off of my urgent need to bone, so I started following the US Presidential election. I went to a bar at our student union to watch the debates, where I found fellow Americans to commiserate with about the frustration of being in Canada at such an exciting time in America. For the first time in months, I felt passionate about something, and a sense of camaraderie that I hadn’t felt since I’d seen my entire high school dressed in black, the day Bush Jr. got reelected. And I was getting hit on for the first time in months, by Americans. I was surrounded by people that cared about seeing a change in the US as much as I did, and I felt alive. On November 4, 2008, I went out to a

bar comprised largely of baby boomer Vietnam War dodgers. The bar was full of excitement. I answered calls from my cousins in Philly and Chicago, from my friend in Manhattan, from my dad in Portland. My cousin shouted, “I’m riding around on a fire truck, and it’s going off. I think that’s illegal, but I don’t even care!” My dad left me a voicemail: “Mom and I are running back and forth with a huge crowd of people in the street. It’s polite anarchy!” As my friends and I made our way back home through downtown Vancouver, we expected people to mirror our uproar, but the streets were silent. No one cared that America just elected its first black president. As we shouted “Obama won!” the only people that responded to our glee said, “So? Same shit, different leader.” Feeling alienated and alone, I decided that night that Canadians sucked. I came to Vancouver for a more open culture, and found a more guarded one. Vancouver’s attitude towards sex was only liberal during that one time per month that the average Vancouverite had sex. And politically, many Canadians seemed apathetic, unless there was Ecstasy involved. November 4, 2008 was the beginning of my most horrifying realization: I am American.

I am an American

The second issue theme of F is “I am an American.” We’re looking for pitches, articles, essays, illustrations, photography and other words on this theme. Find our submission guidelines at

Most women’s magazines simply try to mold women into bigger and better consumers.

— Gloria Steinum

does not.


my big Fat portland Finding fun and celebrating singlehood in the City of Roses Words by Lisa K. Anderson I walk onto the pool deck in a floral one piece and hot purple Converse. My butt requires more swimsuit fabric than it did during my water polo years, but I’m not self-conscious. Of all exercise scenarios, this is the most encouraging. “You joining us old birds today?” Gerdie asks me. I smile back at her. I’m hoping that this aqua aerobics class of mostly middle-aged women will jump-start my energy and happiness after a painful break-up with my college boyfriend.


“Your fearless leader has arrived!” Val Jeanne shouts

upon her entrance. Of all the fitness instructors I’ve studied under, I enjoy Val Jeanne most. She’s unafraid of wearing spandex or prancing around, legs jiggling, to “Play That Funky Music White Boy”. She has this sassy, high-pitched voice that from anyone else I would find annoying, but from her is endearing. “Who here is new?” Val Jeanne asks. A woman with salt and pepper hair raises her arm coyly and offers her name––Carol. “What do we say, class?” Val Jeanne asks. “Hi, Carol!” Everyone says in near unison as Carol blushes. “You didn’t know you were also coming to an AA meeting, did you?” Val Jeanne asks Carol, jokingly.

“Here’s how the class goes: Don’t talk, listen to your body, and most of all, have fun!”

We run down the length of the pool and hop back. We “bicycle” with buoy-like weights. We crunch our abs with noodles wrapped around our waists. We jump-andjack. And at the end, we lounge in the hot tub until our skin wrinkles.


I go to the Diva Den for a 90-minute pole dancing class, recommended by a friend. Knowing my week’s woe, she invites me to the free trial. The space is small, narrow and dark. Sheer fabrics and candles line the walls. In the back quadrant is a shimmering pole, stretching from floor to ceiling. I’m grateful for my friend’s rambunctiousness because I sure as hell don’t feel comfortable seducing a pole and humping the air in front of a group of 15. The rotund instructor leads a meditation. “Channel your inner goddess. Listen to her. Embrace your diva, wherever you are in life right now.” We bite our lips to hold in fits of laughter. We don’t quite feel like goddesses yet. After our warm-up meditation, we move to the floor, where our teachers discuss the history of the exercise. Dancing in only undies to Michael Jackson’s P.Y.T (Pretty Young Thing) in my bedroom was not sufficient preparation.


I wear a Planned Parenthood T-shirt that reads, “Take care down there” Some wear sexy articles of clothing and shiny red heels. I wear a Planned Parenthood T-shirt that reads, “Take care down there” with a pair of swishy pants. My eyes are blotchy from break-up tears and my mane is in tangles. Still, I start to feel liberated as I stretch my arm up the pole, stride around in a circle and catapult myself off the ground, spinning around the pole, touching the ground and thrusting my body back up the pole. Even a rhythmless white girl can have game when instructed by the Diva Den Queen.

I escape a chilly night, climbing a narrow staircase on 29th and Alberta. I arrive at a cozy oasis of cushy couches and chairs, numerous shelves of books, a plate of baked goods, and the friendly, knowledgeable staff of Bitch Media––no haggard butch lesbians trying to alter my views and spritz me with patchouli. Pastries, books and cozy couches––what could be better? I think, amid my recently inaugurated single and sexless phase. The Bitch Media Community Lending Library boasts 1,750 books, zines and DVDs focused on gender, culture, race, body image, sex, media, and politics. I was a women’s and gender studies minor, so I completely nerd out. Some of my must-reads: “Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions”, “The Breakup 2.0: Disconnecting over New Media” and “America and the Pill”.


A friend invites me to make DIY succulent terrariums. We gather glass containers, sand, colorful moss, succulents, shells, and rocks from various garden shops in Southeast Portland.


“Be forewarned––these are addictive,” Artemisia’s

owner tells us. I soon learn why. The afternoon feels very Bohemian, between the Bob Dylan beats, herbal refreshments and green thumbing. Mesmerizing yet simple, my three terrariums line the kitchen table. I was never this crafty or productive in my relationship.

break-up F

Amid fetching fizzy water and shoveling stacks of legal files at work, I receive a text from one of my fellow Southeast Portlanders. “80’s Night?” A male friend recently told me that penises have an aversion to 80’s Night. I’m not so sure. I divvy my time at the Crystal Ballroom among three male suitors, allowing each to buy me a drink but refusing to offer my phone number. This is decidedly rebound flirting, and unfortunately reminds me of my ex. Though a childish man who won’t eat vegetables or find a job, he would always let me dress him in drag or prance about in flamboyant outfits.

“Well aren’t you popular tonight,” my sister jokes. “Get it girl!”

I’ve got anything but game when it comes to dating, but tonight, for some reason, is different. Three twenty-somethings follow me around like puppies. After four hours of dancing, I desert them. My friends and I walk to Shanghai Tunnel for macaroni, unfazed by onlookers. The next morning I browse through our photos. I’m glad I didn’t give my number out because my suitors were not the studly steeds I remembered. Instead, they are short, pit-stained and greasy-haired. My roommate walks in the door and catches me blasting Nothing Compares 2 U by Prince. She, my sister and other friends were less than impressed with my man child of a companion, but understand my erratic grief process nonetheless. She offers a hug and invites me to karaoke at the Boiler Room that night. Remembering my New Year’s resolution of singing karaoke, I agree to join. I start drinking Drop Top when we arrive, knowing I’ll never be able to sing without it. As the ale kicks in, I snatch a man’s tambourine, and a few songs later, swap it for his set of maracas. They come in handy for my solo: The Beatles’ Twist and Shout. I feel as though the crowd is cheering particularly hard for me and conclude the crescendo-ing “Ahhhh...ahhhhh...ahhhhh”.


Miraculously, exactly a week after my break-up and the morning after a wild night, I make it to church––at 9:15 a.m. The Unitarian Universalists I’ve decided, are my people. In a churchless city, I’ve found a progressive congregation rooted in social justice.


Surrounded by gay couples, odd twenty-somethings, recovering Catholics, children, and a lively choir, I’m moved. A choral version of John Denver’s further moves me. I cry until my tissues disintegrate. I cry before the elderly man sitting next to

me. When the next hymn comes up, he shares his song book. At the end of the service, he gently rests his hand on my knee and says, “Everything willbe OK.” I’ll laugh at myself later for being such a puddle of emotions throughout the week, but already I feel better. For six months, I had pretended to enjoy PBR, crappy TV shows, hanging out in my ex’s childhood bedroom, and being lazy for entire days. I’m exhausted from a week of drinking and performing unusual aerobics, but I embrace the fatigue. And I’m ready for another week of fun. I’ve also noticed a cute Unitarian Universalist twenty-something down the pew from me. FtheMAGAZINE.COM ||


flora and fauna

Deep blue debate Why Oregonians are all worked up about ocean management Words by Emily Hutto

Cape Falcon is one of several marine reserves established by HB 3013.


n 2009, the Oregon Legislature passed HB 3013, a bill forming community teams to discuss the establishment of marine reserves at Cape Falcon, Cascade Head, and Cape Perpetua. Marine reserves are protected ocean areas that allow for research and boating, but prohibit fishing and the presence of wave energy technology. The intended effect of any marine reserve is to multiply marine life populations. A 2007 summary of studies of more than 124 of the world’s 4,500 marine reserves reveals that they are doing just that. The report, published by the Partnership for Interdisciplinary Studies of Coastal Oceans (PISCO), states that fish, invertebrates and seaweed in marine reserves have increased in abundance by 166 percent on average, and the most dramatic increases were of heavily fished species. Marine reserves also create spillover, a condition in which


booming fish populations expand outside of the perimeter of the reserves. In addition to spillover, larvae spawned in marine reserves can actually drift out and re-seed, rebuilding fish populations outside of their barriers. A recent study in Hawaii showed evidence of yellow tang re-seeding more than 100 miles outside of marine reserves. Mark Hixon, a marine biology professor at Oregon State University (OSU) told Practical Fishkeeping magazine that the results of the study are highly relevant in other regions. He says, “The life cycle of our study fish is very similar to many species of marine fish, including rockfishes and other species off [the Oregon Coast].” Marine reserves boost both fish populations and the economy. They require onsite managers and teams of researchers to gauge their effects. Laurie McGilvray, chief of the National Ocean and Atmospheric

Administration Estuarine Reserves Division, says each reserve creates five to ten positions, such as research coordinator and educational coordinator. Last year, Pete Sorenson, Lane County Commissioner in Oregon told The World newspaper, “Jobs, money and business opportunities will follow, and communities can realize the economic benefits and stability these reserves will bring. [There is] benefit from long-term, family-wage jobs that are based in ocean science.” Dr. Kristen Grorud-Colvert has one of these jobs. She’s the Marine Reserve Science Coordinator at OSU, organizing all of PISCO’s educational tools and outreach. She’s dedicated a lot of hours, many of them underwater, to understanding the effects of marine reserves. “Marine reserves are a hot-button political issue,” she says. “Some people want to set

“There was a time in the ‘70s when [the ocean] was a wild, wild west.” companies like Ocean Power Technologies and Columbia Power are sprouting up along Oregon’s shoreline to harness powerful West Coast waves. The Oregon Wave Energy Trust (OWET) wants enough of these buoys to produce enough wave energy to fuel 200,000 homes by 2025. Wave energy buoys sit in the water about a mile offshore, collecting algae that attract feeding fish. Their cables might also entangle marine species, and the loud,

Images courtesy of Chris Slack, Columbia Power and Kristen Grorud-Colvert

the ocean aside for conservation purposes; others want to continue fishing [it] because that’s what they’ve always done, that’s part of their culture, their community, and their income.” Tim Thomas has been fishing the Pacific Ocean his entire life, hauling in salmon, albacore, tuna and crab. He represents commercial fishing on the Cape Falcon community team. Thomas points out that although they are heavily fished in Oregon, albacore tuna and Dungeness crab are both on the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch “best choice list,” recognizing the most abundant fish captured with sustainable practices. These fisheries are also labeled sustainable by the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC). “There was a time in the 70s when [the ocean] was a wild, wild west,” says Thomas. Now he believes that fisherman are more mindful about what they take out of it, and accordingly calls himself a conservationist. He calls some of the marine reserve advocates “eco-Nazis.” Thomas, the MSC, Seafood Watch, and many others recognize that no matter the presence of marine reserves, fishing on the Oregon coast will continue. Warm coastal waters make the state one of the best places to fish for albacore, tuna and crab. “If you’re going to close an area that’s been fished, then that activity will probably go elsewhere,” says Grorud-Colvert. Marine reserves compete for ocean space not only with fisheries, but also with wave energy projects. Many buoys made by

Top: Columbia Power buoy harnessing wave energy. Bottom: Dr. Kristen GrorudColvert’s underwater research.

underwater devices might disorient whales’ sonar, according to a report from the OSU Hatfield Marine Science Center. The report concludes that there is not enough data to determine whether or not these new projects will be significantly environmentally harmful. Only 6.5 percent of Oregon’s coast was under consideration for marine reserve status with the bill, leaving the vast majority open for fishing, wave energy plants, trenching, drilling, and the like. With Cape Falcon, Cascade Head, and Cape Perpetua as official no-take sites, fish consumption levels in this state will undoubtedly remain high, and wave power technology companies will continue to construct buoys and other devices along the coast. So why all the fuss? There are conflicting opinions about marine reserves, all of which ultimately chronicle the battle between commerce and conservation. Yes, fishing and harnessing wave energy stimulate economies and

provide us with household essentials for living -food, light, and heat. But they also deplete species and alter ecosystems. The heated discussion about marine reserve legislation represents the diversity of the ways in which we use the ocean. Whether we’re dunking cables attached to buoys into the waves, or cuts of raw fish into soy sauce trays, we’re using the ocean. We use it when we switch on lights and appliances in our renewable energy-powered homes. We use it more than we know. With marine reserves implemented, though, at least we won’t abuse it -or all of it, anyway.




rare treat College jam band turned professional ensemble Words by Natalie Horner Mission one: Don’t seem like a prostitute. Mission two: Don’t get mugged. Mission three: Interview Rare Monk at AudioCinema, a defunct warehouse in Portland’s southeast industrial district that now acts as a rehearsal space for local artists. Isaac Thelin and Forest Gallien are the first of the Rare Monk band members to arrive for tonight’s practice session. The tall, well-dressed man-with-Afro Isaac Thelin plays violin and tenor sax. Forest Gallien dons a quilted plaid jacket, a ponytail, and his bass. Forest unlocks the door I’ve been loitering around and leads us inside onto a flight of shadowy stairs. Jake Martin, Rare Monk guitarist, joins us. His Wolverine sideburns stand out. The last two members of Rare Monk (drummer, Rick Buhr; and vocalist, key­boardist, guitarist, and occasional violinist, Dorian Aites) arrive a few minutes later, toting their instruments. The band mates lob sarcastic witticisms between each other while Aites finds a seat. He’s small and unassuming, with pin-straight dirty blonde hair. He doesn’t exactly scream lead singer, but when he gets on stage, he adopts a rockstar swagger, with growling vocals reminiscent of Modest Mouse’s Isaac Brock. I can tell that the dynamic between the group members is brotherly. They finish each other’s sentences, laugh over inside jokes, and share stories as easily as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. In reality, they’ve only been together as a band for two years. When they originally started play­ing, they classified themselves as a “party” band. Loose structures of songs guided their shows, but most of their material was improvised.



“We struggled a lot to move from jambased stuff to actually writing songs because when we first got together, it was just so fun to jam,” Gallien says. Now the band members describe themselves as a rock/jazz/funk/ indie band that is “unpretentiously eclectic,” as Martin puts it, half-joking. Evidence of that focus was clear last year when they won “Bandest of the Bands,” a Eugene-based competition that showcases the best up-and-coming local bands. Extended instrumental jams punctuated by catchy choruses urged the crowd to jump to Buhr’s driving beats. Thelin’s sax solos stood out during the instrumen­tal diversions. He struck an artful balance between soul and precision that reveals his classically-trained roots. Aites’ wailing vocals and keyboards reverber­ated through the gyrating crowd. The guys wrapped up their sweat-inducing set with one last sound from Thelin’s violin. “It probably wasn’t our best perfor­mance technically, but the energy was great,” Martin reflects on their winning set. “We had our first little mosh pit,” Gallien adds. “That was exciting.” After the competition, and before moving to Portland, Rare Monk went out on their first tour through Oregon, California, and a little slice of Nevada, playing 14 shows in 18 days. “It was definitely part trial,” Gallien says, “to see if we would implode spending three weeks together in a van.” Deemed a success (the van breakdowns were kept to a minimum and no one died), the group now wants to focus on expanding their fan base. Gallien says they’ve written and developed drum tracks to nine new songs, and they’re working on finishing up


Image by Jenna Westover

The name “Rare Monk” is an allusion to one of the band’s influences, the jazz pianist Thelonious Monk.

Upcoming Shows July 2: Tonic Lounge, Portland 9 p.m.

July 28: Monroe Park, Eugene, OR 5 p.m. July 29: Axe and Fiddle, Cottage Grove, OR 7 p.m. Aug 4: Ash Street Saloon, Portland 9 p.m. their first full-length album. “We’ve been recording the bass, guitars, and vocals and we’ve been taking the necessary time to complete the album,” says Galien. “ So far, it’s a really big sound.” The album is scheduled to debut in early July. They’re also booking their second month-long tour to promote the album, which will go through Eastern Oregon, California, and the South and Midwest. I say farewell to Rare Monk so they can get on to their late-night practice session. The big sound follows me down the stairs and back out into the night.



Images by Leslie Montgomery



‘Chloe’ S

How We See It:

ay what you will, but some things are better left unrealized. Such as your parents having sex. Ew. Or your siblings having sex. Awkward. And your kids (someday) having sex -now that’s a lot of unwanted visuals. But a rated-R version of other people’s disturbingly unscrupulous sexual manifestations … well that’s called movie magic; a la “Chloe”. For a movie based on the tried-and-true adage of love, lust and lies, “Chloe” adds a psychological new twist to the indulgent hot mess of crazy cinematographic love gone awry: a suspecting wife, her flirtatious husband, a hooker, and their son. So who is the son? The hooker and the husband’s? The husband and wife’s? Does it matter? Not really—especially since they all end of sleeping with each other in a “three degrees of separation” sort of way. Set in Toronto, the story begins when Catherine, a gynecologist played by Julianne Moore, begins to suspect her husband David, (Liam Neeson) a professor of music, of having an affair with one of his students. While successful and ravishing, Catherine lets her jealousy over David’s seemingly womanizing ways gets the better of her. A conveniently missed flight, wandering eyes, suggestive texts from Catherine’s suspicions she employs a doe-eyed seductress named Chloe (Amanda Seyfried) to discover the truth behind her husband’s infidelity. What began as a ploy for entrapment goes terribly awry when Chloe begins to attach herself to Catherine. From there, a series of increasingly absurd plot lines, fetishes, and

Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classic

Review by Suji Paek

Suji gives “Chloe” 3 out of 5 F’s.

obsessions unravel. Despite a formulaic storyline and somewhat shallow character development, the personal moments of eroticism—think Julianne Moore masturbating in the shower to the thought of David cheating on her with the call girl she hired to bait him—breathes an almost innocent sense of intimacy that effectively humanizes this mostly bizarre love triangle (err, square, depending on if you count in the son). And if things can’t get any weirder, the unlikely bond between wife and the call girl spirals into yet another uncomfortable liaison of Oedipus-eqsue proportions, drawing both empathy and perversion for their mother-

You know that saying, "I'd rather stab myself in the eye than ..." Is there beer involved? Pretty sure an equally shitty movie told me they served beer in hell.

daughter relationship. Still, the movie’s heavily sex-centric focus resonates with thematic tinges of romance and redemption. Persistent motifs such as Chloe’s hair clip, soft-lens camera shots, and tinkling piano music exude a sense of something more substantial than the temporary fulfillment of physical lust. Driven by the overtones of raw sexual tension, “Chloe” delivers a deliciously provocative thriller that leaves you feeling amused, and a bit aroused—sort of like a cross between a Danielle Steel novel and the mindless entertainment of “The Real World.” It’s a movie for those looking for a night accompanied by the likes of a cheap bottle of wine and mild erotica--think cheesy ‘80s soft core.

Rad in a "If Justin Bieber, Miley and the Jonas Brothers united with the rest of Disney Channel's teenybopper Scooby Gang to unveil some sort of child-mongering conspiracy" kind of way.

Some laughs. Some explosions. This film is so good it’s like Megan Fox's navel. Mildly entertaining Twilight never existed. in an overrated, I'm-not-sure-why-Igive-an-F sort of way: think Britney's comeback and the Kardashian klan.





Dudes’ (mis)conceptions about the female sex drive Words by Rose Finn; Illustration by Nick Patton


was two-thirds deep into an IPA, wondering if Ninkasi could help me find my next great lay. “I don’t know why it seems so hard to get laid sometimes,” I admitted to my guy friend sitting across from me. He shook his head. “You can’t complain to me about this. You’re attractive, you’re nice, and you’re a girl. You should have no problem getting laid.” I would relish the opportunity to have sex whenever, with whomever, with impunity. How lovely it would be to be free of worry about STDs, pregnancy, getting screwed over or manipulated. If I could somehow have sex any time and anywhere and enjoy it without consequence, I’d be the most relaxed woman, and probably own more skirts. One-night stands unfortunately don’t cut it- both of my one-nighters left me feeling limp and useless. “One night” implies one forgettable evening, usually not quelling my thirst for climax. Those instances don’t even count as sex, they’re just plain “se:” meeklooking letters without the hearty, mouthwatering “X.” My friend’s words reverberated through my head: “Girls have it so easy. All you have to do is walk out of your house!” Did all guys think this? Did guys think that every female was granted an all-you-can-eat

“I’d be the most relaxed woman, and probably own more skirts.” pass to the Old Country Fornication Buffet? What the F were guys thinking? I decided it was time to conduct a little research. I would survey a pool of men to find out what they imagined a conversation between two women talking about trying to get laid might sound like. Here’s what they said...


“Then they’d high-five. And then they would braid each other’s hair.” I started with guy friends watching things blow up on TV at their house: Guy 1: They’re probably like, ‘Ooh, what’s his phone number?’ Guy 2: ‘Oh, I was flirting with all those boys at the bar.’ Guy 3: They’d compare flirting strategies; maybe drop the neck line a little bit…. Guy 4: I didn’t know anyone talked about trying to get laid. Me: What do you think women say to each other about sex, in general? Guy 4: Nothing good. These fools weren’t giving me real answers. I needed to go somewhere where dashed sexual hopes saturated the atmosphere as potently as the bathroom odor. I needed to go to a dive bar. I started with the bartender. His response: “Ugh, women are always like, ‘I want to get fucked, I need the biggest fucking dick.’ But then they get all squeamish when they’re about to get laid.” But he was gay, and this situation called for men who would rather eat pussy than attempt to understand it. I walked up to a couple guys and asked them what they imagine women talking about getting laid sounds like.

The first guy at the bar seemed resentful: “‘Ooh, we’re a fucking hot commodity, and we need to hold out for the highest bidder.’ The second guy was egging him on: ‘Oh, he was totally looking at you.’ Guy 1: ‘Yeah, I know, but he’s a douchebag.’ Guy 2: ‘Yeah, but he’s cute.’ Guy 1: ‘Yeah, I might make out with him if I had a couple more beers, but I don’t know…’ Guy 2: ‘You’re such a slut.’ Guy 1: “Yeah, I know.’ Another guy turned around on his bar stool to chime in: “One would be like, ‘oh my god, I’m so horny right now.’ And the other would be like, ‘Well shit, girl. Men are all easy. Just find the one with the most money.’” Guys one and two came back: Guy 1: ‘I’m horny. Do you think if I got a beer, it would make me bloat?’ Guy 2: ‘It’ll go straight to your thighs.’

The next day, I called a guy friend. His response: “What do women talk about when they’re trying to get laid? I don’t know. I guess, one would be like, ‘I’m gonna get some D tonight.’ And the other would be like, ‘you go, girl!’ Then they’d high-five. Then they would braid each other’s hair.” He wasn’t done yet. “‘Okay, we gotta go to a bar.’ Then they’d get all made up, put on some nice shoes, get some drinks. ‘I’m gonna go find some old dude.’ ‘Yeah, old dudes are easier.’ “Then they’d probably go to a club; they’d swagger over to the pool table, stick their butt out, swaggering as they walk. Did you get the swagger?” After polling about 20 men, some sober, some drunk, and all between the ages of 21 and 33, I can’t say I learned much. Maybe the keys for getting through dry spells are patience, and more IPA.




As politely and blunt as possible...

Rants for the bitter and unresolved...

Hey, recently transplanted hipsters:

Act rude and bored in your own city. Portland has always been a place for the humble outsiders of humanity. We’re nice to each other, and interact with care. If you don’t care about anyone but yourself, go serve lattes back from whence you came. Magazine

F You, age 22. I was supposed to stop getting acne and fighting with my mom 4 years ago.

To the apathetic conglomeration that failed to vote in the midterm elections; to anyone who settles for political stagnancy, yet still has the audacity to whine: you are why us “Millenials” are deemed lazy and childish.

damn food

Make your own

To the entitled restaurant customers who grunt at their servers and don’t tip well, even when the service is impeccable:

To the naysayers who tell recent college grads that finding gainful work is impossible, that having a liberal arts degree resigns us to perpetual penny-pinching and meager career prospects: the job market is weak, but your negativity is neither helpful nor requested. Give us experience. Mentor us. Lead us out of this mess.

Screw the thoughtless consumers who throw plastic and other non-biodegradables in the ocean. There’s enough GARBAGE in there already. To Military-backed Egyptian government: F you for banning protests. How are revolutionaries going to reap the benefits of the freedom they fought for? FtheMAGAZINE.COM ||



F Magazine- 1 - What the F am I doing?  

F Magazine's first issue: What the F am I doing? June 2011

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