Mad Scientists…of the Future!

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Bright and early on the 17th (everything feels early on three hours’ sleep), Tristan showed up–I strapped him into his surgical gown, slapped on my goggles, and we were off to the Lunchbox Lab.

In front of us in line for the lab were a couple of people I recognized from previous Flying Lab Software events, so it is clearly fate that we continue to run into one another for lab-related activities. The wife mentioned that when I appeared across the street, a great chorus arose with “She’s here!” and that she felt a little sad and left out that she didn’t know who I was…but then she did.

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Seattle is a small, small town. Very small.

If you’ve never been to the Lab, they offer a selection of burger ‘experiments’, or you can create your own from an extensive list of ingredients. They also do house blends of meats: ‘Churken’–chicken and turkey, ‘dork’–duck and pork, and ‘Super Beef’ (I have no idea, maybe a blend of Superman and Bossie). Some short-sighted Yelp reviews have faulted the Lab for putting too much bacon on their burgers. The next day, they supposedly had construction workers lined up outside the door before they opened, who asked “Is this the place that has too much bacon?”

Pfft. Too much bacon.

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I got the ‘Dork Freshman’–a dork burger with basil, grilled onions, and goat cheese, with a side of the garlic caesar potato salad, and a vanilla honey chai milkshake. And lo, it was delicious.

 

None of the employees even remarked on our science gear. Clearly this dress-up thing has been done there before.

After lunch, it was time for people to trek down to Renton for booze experiments set to a science themed playlist. Or, according to Napoleon, to pay attention to him and him exclusively. A shark could bite off his back half and he would be furious that no one was giving him a laser pointer to feebly drag himself after, trailing blood and gore.

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In this picture are only half of the infamous all-nighter cupcakes. I was thrilled to pieces so many people recognized the frosting design on top was a brain, I’ve never piped on a design before and frankly it was more difficult than anticipated. Jason also told me that I could come make pastries for him anytime I want because they were delicious and these are exactly the sort of compliments that keep me motivated when I ultimately get overwhelmed by my grandiose plans for the next party–it’s my established pattern.

 

There was an actual scientist among us but she showed great restraint in not mocking us for our lack of science knowledge.

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I would also like to take a moment to let you know that dreams come true.

They really, really do.

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When I finish drinking this vodka straight from the skull (like any true badass would do), I will fill it with skittles. And eat those straight from the skull. Like any badass would do.

Tonya also brought me a jackalope head for my wall, wearing a string of pearls. Truly, I have the greatest friends in the universe. Once I have stopped trying to gore the dog with the horns to teach him his place in the food chain and have hung it on its proper place on the wall, I will post a photo–you can’t really capture its majesty, but I’ll try.

We then settled in to watch the MST3K version of “Mad Monsters” which was so awful, not even sarcastic robots could save it, and “The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra” which I have seen going onto a thousand times and laugh every.single.time.

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Of course, no evening would be complete without a breathalyzer test before the guests were on their way out.

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Too much science? Hardly. Do you know what this could mean for science, Betty? It could mean real advances in the field of science, some of them good!

Buffetitties / Boobieffet

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Every once in a great while, there will be an event or locale that combines two flavors or activities that you previously enjoyed separately. Voodoo Doughnuts, for example, has combined the maple bar and bacon. The Cardboard Tube Dueling League has combined costumes and hurting people. Today, a group of bold adventurers visited Club SinRock, which has combined strippers and a buffet.

Now, for as much as the owner insisted to the press that his club would be ‘classy, like Vegas’, this isn’t a Vegas-style buffet with chefs in tall hats whipping up custom Mongolian Grill noodle bowls or six different kinds of crab legs flown in daily, it’s a buffet in that you choose whether or not to eat the main dish and two sides, and that should you wish to eat a truly mountainous pile of delicious ham, you are free to do so.

…As I worked through my mountain of ham, the stripper onstage caught my gaze and held it. I’ve never had such a sustained period of eye contact with a nude person while stuffing my face, and it was made all the more surreal given how adept she was at making ‘come hither’ faces. It was as though she had effectively turned the tables on me–no longer was it lunch at the strip club, but naked day at the zoo and it was time to watch the tigers eat ham.

When I wasn’t being watched from the stage, it felt oddly decadent to be in a strip club during daylight hours, like I’d slipped into the shoes of Motley Crue, save the heroin and booze. So really nothing like Motley Crue at all. But the club is appointed astonishingly well; plush and almost tasteful, and is assuredly the nicest strip club I’ve ever been to, and I’ve actually been to quite a few.

Aside from our group of nine, there were a couple of single guys in the club, and they seemed to dominate the strippers’ attention when they were prowling the floor looking for private dances. This changed when Sean bought each of the ladies a drink, and they each at least came over to thank him for it. One of them turned to me and said “It’s your birthday? So what do you want?” I was flummoxed. She bounced up and down and asked if I’d like her to rub herself all over me.

It may be only the third time in history that I was truly at a loss for words. She led me off to the back and did turrible, turrrrrrible things to me. Side note: typically when I ‘set’ my eyeshadow, it’s not going to budge for the day. Apparently this method is not boobie-proof.

Later in the afternoon (we were there for two hours!), she came back out and led me away for another birthday lapdance. This time she told me that she’d given a dance to a guy who told her that she smelled different than she did during the first dance she’d given him, and she told him that some of my perfume had rubbed off onto her, so it was like I had given a lap dance by proxy. His exact quote was, apparently “Two girls? Holy shit, that’s hot.”

Now I am back in the office, I smell like strippers, and I am simultaneously trying to look inconspicuous while wearing a shiteating grin. Best lunch break ever.