Ho’n’Go

July 29, 2008 28 Comments read Makeup, Reviews

Running late again? Smoov M tell you that if you miss a shift again, he gonna have to raise his pimp hand? Introducing Eye Envy–for the hooker on the go!

Never again will you have to painstakingly draw on your tiger stripes, leopard print, or camouflage eyeshadow after John after John after John (EVEN though you tell him specifically not to) spooges in your good eye. Now, application takes seconds–just press and go!

Just listen to this testimonial from one of our satisfied customers:

“Before Eye Envy, I was doin’ my makeups and beautifyin and shit like 4 hours out of every day. With its patented Press ‘n Go technology, I’ve doubled my income and made me AND my pimp real happy. Now he don’t hit me no more, so I don’t have to spend so much damn money on concealer and sunglasses. Thank you, Eye Envy! Hey, y’all got any gum? My mouth done taste like something come up and died in there.” -Mercedes, 17

Still not convinced? Here’s another testimonial:

“Eye Envy’s camouflage makes me feel like I’m supporting the troops even when my pimp is whooping some army kid’s ass for not paying me enough!” – Chanterelle, 13

STILL not convinced?

“Meow!” -Fluffy, 8 weeks

Try it for yourself–Eye Envy. Just press and go!

The wheels on the bus go round and round…but for a limited time.

July 16, 2008 32 Comments read Attractions, Reviews

On Saturday I figured I’d break in my bus pass* and head to Kent Cornucopia Days, which is a local street fair/carnival/etc with a decent-size parade AND dragon boat races on Lake Meridian. Before I left, I decided to check the bus schedule to see how late I could be out if I decided I wanted to get schnockered in the beer garden. As it turns out, the last bus runs at 7pm. 7. I couldn’t believe it. On weekdays, it’s the same. There are some awful days at work where I could conceivably miss the last bus home, the only bus that runs to my area. It makes it really hard to embrace public transit with a 7pm curfew–what am I, eight years old?

It’s only a four mile walk to Kent station, but considerably longer to Lake Meridian, so I decided to pass on the boat races. The street fair was pretty typical, nothing all that special. The food vendors were the exact same ones from Bellevue’s 4th of July, and I was hot, hungry, and a little crabby, but still could not bring myself to support the inappropriately named ‘Margarita Village’ and its deceitful non-alcoholic beverages. I actually lucked out, as I wandered past a brand-spanking new martini bar called ‘Shindig’ and immediately fell in love. Downtown Kent is tying very hard to revitalize and with the addition of Kent Station, more upscale independent businesses like Shindig, and potentially even the new Thunderbirds arena, it looks like things are falling into place. At the very least, I’ll proclaim their revitalizing efforts more successful than Kenosha’s, which added a trolley to nowhere and that’s about it.

A little buzzed, I decided to walk and check out the midway. It was more than a little disconcerting to have a battallion of police officers checking bags, patting people down, and demanding that youths pull up their pants–this last one in particular is a movement I could get behind (pardon the pun) if not for my steadfast belief that people should be able to wear their clothes in whatever manner they’d like, regardless of how stupid I might think it looks. Also, I’m not quite certain when our police force became preoccupied with the waistlines of pants, but I’m pretty sure their time could be better spent.

My life is one of contradictions–I love carnivals, but I hate clowns. I love sideshow art, but I hate degrading people**. I love fly-by-night thrill rides, but I hate dying in fiery explosions*** and betting my life on the scientific weight-calculations of the drunk.

Speaking of carnival art:

I love that they painted in ‘KAZAM’. I expect Batman to show up shortly with a ‘POW’ and a ‘WHAM’ and a ‘BAM’ and a ‘THANK YOU MA’AM’.

I feel like they went above and beyond with the art on this one. Look at the drinky chicken!

This was painted on the side of the ‘Ghost Pirate’ ride–I, for one, appreciate the extra effort it took for them to paint in the blood from the hearty face-kicking that the pirate delivered.

Then, as it was getting darker and I’d neglected to bring a flashlight, I started the long walk home. Talk about anticlimactic! Goddamned bus system. (There, it’s full circle!)

*I have since realized that showing my card to bus drivers on buses without swiper mechanisms makes me feel stupid. Like, really stupid. Like the world’s lamest FBI agent, trying to commandeer a bus. **Well, based off of physical conditions that are beyond their control. Other people, I have no problem degrading, and maybe even enjoy it. A lot. ***Ok, to be fair, I only think I would hate this. As an atheist, it’s in my best interests to live as long as possible, because if there’s no god, I lose. And if there is a god, I *so* lose. So fiery explosions = bad.

Badgers Can’t Be Choosers

July 15, 2008 14 Comments read Live Shows, Reviews

Photo by GermanCityGirl.

Eddie Izzard recently played the Paramount in Seattle. I rarely stay abreast of performances coming to town, and almost exclusively rely on my network of informed friends to pass along show information and anything else that I can’t be arsed to look up. This is how I found out about John Waters lecturing at Benaroya, for example. It serves a twofold purpose; they would like an opportunity to demonstrate the mobile computing capabilities of their iPhones, and secondly, I don’t have to expend a single drop of energy while they twaddle around with their gadget. Everyone leaves happy.

Well, they FAILED ME this time. The first I heard of the show was when someone posted to seattle trying in vain to get three extra tickets. I sighed and thought “Gee, wouldn’t it be nice to go to that show? Ah well.” I then shook my fist in everyone’s general direction for failing me. Yes, you. Then, I promptly forgot all about it, as I am wont to do.

On Friday morning, v1c1ous sent me a text message asking if I had any plans, and would I like to go to Eddie Izzard with him. Hell + yes.

The order of business that day looked something like this: slack off, slack off, free slurpee, slack off, cut out early, prettify, buy bus pass from my Seagro schmuckythecat, meet v1c1ous and co for delicious frosty beverages, Eddie Izzard, profit.

Or rather, that’s what it was supposed to look like. It actually went like this: slack off, oh hey almost time for lunch and free slurpee, boy am I hungr–FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. GODDAMNIT. FUCK. SHIT. CLUSTERFUCK. GOATROPE. leave work late, slap on another layer of deodorant, leave the apartment looking like shit, meet schmuckythecat late, get fucked by Mapquest, get totally lost and frustrated and misdirected by a group of leather bears on Capitol Hill, Seattle’s building numbering system can totally go fuck itself and I would like to go back in time and hit each and every one of the founders with a sledgehammer straight to the face, stay lost, send increasingly frustrated text messages to v1c1ous, circle the same block about 6 times, and very nearly miss the show.

Eddie Izzard is a delightful, delightful man. I never cease to be impressed at how he can go off on a comedic tangent for an extended period of time and immediately pick up exactly where he left off with no “Um…um, now where was I? Dinosaur Church? No, no, I did that one. Oh wait, yes, man-skirts, um, kilts!” like so, so many comedians do. By the end of his show, my face hurt from smiling! You may interpret this one of two ways: I was amused once or twice and my usually dour face was unused to the exertion, or Eddie was really goddamn funny. I’ll give you a hint. It’s the latter. I’ll be sending him a bill shortly for the extra lines that he specifically is responsible for carving into my face. So, thank you again, Sean! I would also like to thank Sean’s girlfriend, who was unable to attend. And Jesus. But no thanks to the leather bears who hang around outside of The Cuff.

On the way home, my body informed me that in no uncertain terms, it was pissed off that I hadn’t eaten yet, and as I was down to chicken ramen at home, I ended up in the grocery store wandering the aisles like a moron, deep in the throes of the ‘so hungry, nothing sounds good’ trance. Have you ever gone to the grocery store hungry and come home with a bunch of weird shit? When I got home, I realized that I had come home with: a frozen curry dinner, a swirly toothbrush, six bran muffins (? I hate bran muffins), cinnamon bears, toilet cleaner, squirty salad dressing (and no lettuce?!?), and a lady-bodybuilder magazine (I have no idea).

Every time I shove one of those awful muffins down my face-hole, I repeat the mantra that I am not allowed to shop whilst hungry ever again.