Searched For dinosaur

Shouldn’t her name be Hera?

On Saturday, I met with Lanny at the PacSci center in Seattle to see Lucy, the fossilized remains of a homonid that lived some 3.2 million years ago. We also saw an IMAX movie, bud sadly, not the one about dinosaurs in 3-D. While waiting in line for tickets, I learned two important things. One: That day was some kind of ‘educator discount’ day. Two: If the people behind me in line were representative of our state’s educators, perhaps we should ask the question ‘Is our children learning?’ more often. The specially priced educator tickets had sold out before the people in line behind me were able to buy them, so all I heard for the next ten minutes was “TWENTY DOLLARS? I can’t believe how much they’re charging for tickets. GOD, this line is slow. Wait, what’s this? It says regular exhibits are $11. Why would it say $11 if they’re charging $20 to see Lucy? Maybe if I point out the sign, they’ll sell us the tickets for $11.” And on. And on. And on. After I bought our tickets, Lanny showed up with coffee, and we waited for our time slot to be called for the Lucy exhibit. Immediately before we entered, the rules were laid out: No cameras. No cell phone cameras. No phones turned on, period. Well…rules were made to be broken. Lucy exhibit people: I’m sorry, I know you must have spent a lot of money and time and effort on putting this whole thing together, but I’ve got to be frank. Everything before we started getting into bones was, well…boring. Way boring. When I walk away from a display knowing more about how much Lanny’s pearl-clutching ex-roommate spent on gay porn over a period of a week and exactly how much anal blood he seeped into her sheets, you didn’t engage my attention enough. I also find it really, really, weird how much you tried to emphasize how big Christianity is in Ethiopia, even going so far as to write the sentence “Christianity is the predominant religion in Ethiopia, even though there are as many Muslims.” How does that make Christianity predominant? Wouldn’t that make it equal? Are you trying to make the exhibit less threatening to the American audience? I don’t get it.

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Also, what was with putting that phrase next to your big display of Qur’ans? Here is the Qur’an on stilts. Here is a Qur’an bound in leather. Here is a Qur’an on a goat. Here is a Qur’an spanning a moat.

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I know what they modeled that jug after. Don’t tell me Ethiopians aren’t hip to the horns! Also, I looked pretty carefully but couldn’t find the carb on the ‘vase’. I bet Michael Phelps could.

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Here are some arm band weapons and even after some discussion, we’re both confused as to how they work. I mean, I get that loads of people have thinner arms than me, but some of the holes seem even too narrow for bones to pass through, much less bones plus muscle tissue plus skin.

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Here I am, touching some fossilized dinosaur poop. At first, Lanny tried to be slick about her photo-taking. After a while, she just got more and more brazen. One employee even watched us taking photos but assumed the phone was some sort of measurement tool for us to compare the size of the skulls. IMG00049

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    Jim-bob Duggar might say that we didn’t evolve from apes. Well, to him, I say: Vagina. It’s not a clown car.   We stood in front of the stand-up exhibit for a while, trying to figure out how to take pictures with people watching us like hawks. And then we went “DURRR this is the replica and the real one is right behind us lying in this case.” Which, incidentally, was much easier to photograph on the sly.

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  We then went through the gift shop, where they sell little fragments of Ethiopia for $400 apiece. And Indiana Jones hats.

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One of the male patrons was walking through the gift shop, loudly singing ‘Hakuna Matata’ which nearly made me laugh as hard as this painting, entitled “What Would Lucy Think?”:

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And then we photoboothed.

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  After which we did penny pressing and saw animatronic dinosaurs and had a clonebaby together and took a mini vacation in the tropics at the butterfly exhibit:

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And then we watched ‘Mysteries of the Nile’ which was an IMAX movie about a group of people who had a goal of riding the Nile all the way from its source into the Mediterranean Sea, which no one has ever done. Annnnd no one still has ever done it. They claim to have done it at the end of this film, but sending the boat by itself through some stretches of river doesn’t count. Getting out of the boat and riding camels through Sudan doesn’t count. Either you rode on the Nile the whole way, or you didn’t. And they didn’t. I really wish they’d had tickets left for Dinosaurs in 3-D instead of this film, which really should’ve been titled “Lying McBoring”. I also think it’s amazing that they supposedly have all these cameras around 24/7 for the whole journey, and yet when something exciting happens like a crocodile attack, NO ONE HAS FOOTAGE, it’s just them talking about “Oh I was scared, it was so scary, wasn’t that scary?” And then we had Mexican food and got some free sex from this guy ’cause he was giving it away.

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Badgers Can’t Be Choosers

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.

Hallo-weenie.

Yesterday, I went to Target to pick out some items for my coworker’s daughter’s baby shower. I made certain to maintain a scowl the entire time I was in and around the infant department, so that the scenario that occurred the LAST time I purchased baby items would not be repeated. What happened last time, you ask? A small child pointed at me and screamed ‘LOOK MOMMY, SHE’S HAVING A BABY!!!’ No. No, I am NOT having a baby.

After grimacing my way through the infant section, I also went to great lengths to skirt around the maternity section, giving it a 1-department radius, so no women would give me a ‘knowing’ look. NOT PREGNANT, GODDAMNIT. My ‘glow’ is pure, shimmering hate.

Since I was already out and about, I had to check out all of their Halloween wares–shaped cookie-cutters, tchotchkes, and most important of all–dog costumes. The cuteness, I could hardly stand it. They had bee costumes, and dinosaur costumes, and little hoodies with a glow-in-dark skeleton print, and orange-and-black stripey sweaters…one of the best reasons to own a pet is being able to force it into humiliating holiday-themed costumes, which makes me about as fit a pet owner as Britney Spears was a mother; a government agent will be by my home shortly to take Napoleon away and give custody to one of my deadbeat ex-boyfriends. The only thing that kept me from purchasing a back-mounted dinosaur costume was the sure knowledge that my dog would maul me for my indiscretion.

However, I just couldn’t say no to this one:

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napodog “Ooh, the embarrassment. SHE WILL PAY. Oh, how she will pay!”

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“WHO IS LAUGHING NOW?”

The costume was cute and all, but I’m not really certain it was worth the loss of my left arm. Why, oh why did I tempt the fates?