Fantasy Worlds of Myth & Magic at EMP Seattle

May 12, 2014 Comments Off read Attractions, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

One of the current exhibits at the EMP is Fantasy Worlds of Myth and Magic, a place to see costumes and other memorabilia from various fantasy movies and tv shows, and more importantly, when I visited, they had an Iron Throne you could sit on. There was no way I wasn’t bringing my Stark cloak with me, but as I pulled it out of my bag, I became very self-conscious. Would the people in line behind me laugh at me? Snicker at Captain Dork? I needn’t have worried: after Beth and I finished taking pictures, I turned to the girls behind us and asked if they wanted to wear it and they couldn’t have been more excited about it, saying they had wanted to ask me if they could wear it but were too afraid to do so. In the Fantasy Worlds of Myth & Magic, we’re ALL Captain Dork.

Inside the exhibit, they have a test to determine what fantasy archetype suits you. Is anyone at all surprised I was categorized as a witch? I don’t recall the exact description, but it was probably something like “Self centered jerk, eater of the cute, hater of children, wearer of inappropriately dark and heavy clothing in summer”. And this is only because they didn’t have a lazy slob archetype, which is the witch only with more crumbs and less leaving of the house.

Speaking of witches, they had the amazing feather cloak from Snow White and the Huntsman on display. Just like at another museum with another covetable cloak, I was tempted to break my way in there and stride out cloaked to the nines, but I again barely resisted the impulse. Of course, owing to the fantasy setting, everything was dimly lit and it was impossible to get a decent photo, which is one of my bigger gripes about the exhibit: it’s often too dim to see any of the details, and when I come to see a display of costumes, I want to see all the details. I want to see the hand stitching, the beading, the things that weren’t caught or conveyed by the camera. When you stick a dark feather cloak into a dark case behind reflective glass, all you really see is your own dark reflection looking back at you.

They also have an interactive “create your own fantasy map” display; you can create a pirate, anime, or wizard map inside the exhibit, save it to a card, and print it out at the gift shop. Since I’ve had some form of pirate-themed bathroom for a decade, the choice was obvious. While I did end up printing mine (but not hanging it), the amount of time you’re given to create a map is too short, and I wasn’t able to make it as detailed as I’d have liked: two of my islands have nothing but trees on them. I understand they have to keep the line moving on busy days, but when I went, there was no one waiting behind me, and it would be nice if the system were more flexible.

In addition to Fantasy Worlds of Myth and Magic, they are concurrently running an exhibit about the lure of horror films, complete with an Alien costume and facehugger from “Alien”, Jack Torrance’s axe from “The Shining” and a number of videos featuring Roger Corman, John Landis, and Eli Roth talking about their favorite horror films and how they personally approach the genre. They also had a soundproof “scream booth” where you’re photographed giving your most bloodcurdling scream and you become part of the exhibit. I may have blown one of poor Beth’s eardrums because “tone it down a notch” isn’t something of which I’m capable.

If you’re in the area, both exhibits are running indefinitely. If you’re not, there are tons of great screams on the EMP’s Flickr stream.

The Worst Hair Day

April 29, 2014 2 Comments read Everything is Terrible

While at the Buffalo Bill museum, I couldn’t help but notice his son Kit’s extremely unfortunate hairstyle, which, even for the time period, he looks very unhappy about. Kit, I feel your pain, as this reminded me of the worst forced haircut of my youth. In the summer of 1994 before 7th grade, my mom, unhappy with her own short haircut, badgered me into getting my own hair cut short so we’d “be twins”. At twelve, I was hardly the paragon of obstinacy that I am today, and eventually I was dragged into “HairCrafters” (don’t think elite master of a craft when you see the word “crafters”, instead picture the hodgepodge glitterglue kind and you’ll be more on track) with a picture of Ellen DeGeneres. I was parked in a chair, my mom pointed at the picture and instructed the stylist to “give [me] that” and eighteen dollars plus tip later, I was just at the beginning of a three year long nightmare hair journey, although I didn’t realize it at the time.

Mom, proud of what she’d wrought, proceeded to take me from house to house in the neighborhood to show off our new twin status. I stood there in the summer sun while my mom chatted with the neighbors and the kids, normal kids, splashed in the pool and had fun. Although I was invited to join, my mom told me I shouldn’t because she didn’t want me getting it wet and ruining “the cute style”.

She had me so convinced that I looked great that the rest of the afternoon, I rode around on my bike with my helmet carefully strapped on, the better to surprise reveal to my friends when they came to their doors. Publisher’s Clearing House, I wasn’t, and I couldn’t quite understand their nonplussed reactions. Later, when I arrived at home, I’d found that in a hot afternoon of summer bike riding with a helmet, the sweat and immense amounts of hair product had plastered my new short locks onto my head, like a shiny, sticky skullcap.

Short hair and I were never meant to get along: my hair has that natural sort of half-assed wave, is possibly sentient, and if so, is definitely an asshole, and what looked cute on Ellen looked horrific on me. This was also the period of time when the crunchy bang wave hit Wisconsin, and I really, really wanted to fit in with my peers, so each morning, I carefully hairsprayed and gelled my bangs into the crunchiest wave I could muster, the humidity taking its toll on the style no fewer than five minutes later, allowing random pieces to escape and curl across my forehead in a particularly uncool manner. Add to this the fact that I had braces, owl glasses, and my mom still dressed me (to this day I cannot look at a pair of patterned leggings or a beaded vest without breaking out into a sweat), and we had the perfect storm for yearbook photo day. That is the oldest looking twelve year old I have ever seen. When I signed my friends’ yearbooks that year, I actually drew on more hair to hide that solitary forehead bang, like they couldn’t see my solitary forehead bang glaring at them in real life at that very moment. It took three years to grow that hot mess out, and then it started falling out, so where there was once a crunchy bang wave, I now have a bald spot. Hair, you are SUCH an asshole.

Why’d they build this ghost town so far away?

April 17, 2014 Comments Off read Attractions, Colorado, Mountain, Travel, USA, West

When I saw the brochure for “Ghost Town Wild West Museum” near Colorado Springs, I was under the impression that it was actually a ghost town with a wild west museum inside, something along the lines of Cripple Creek, only with something to do there other than gamble and be depressed. Now, the thought crossed my mind that it was awfully close to a major-ish city to be a ghost town, but my pressed penny-loving lizard brain pushed that thought away. When we pulled into the parking lot and saw one building, I knew I was right to be suspicious.

The Ghost Town Wild West Museum is essentially a small-scale wild west town built inside of a warehouse. This isn’t to say it’s bad, it’s just not an actual ghost town, no matter how many times it says “authentic” in the brochure. It reminded me a lot of “The Streets of Yesterday” in The House on the Rock, but on a much lesser scale. After we paid our entry fee, I asked the employee if they had a pressed penny machine. She looked at me as though I had just sprouted a second head and said snottily, “We don’t have anything like that here.” I felt embarrassed until I walked in and saw that HALF THE DAMN PLACE WAS COIN-OPERATED.

All of these machines, the shooting gallery, EVERYTHING cost extra and was coin-operated, but no, I could see how they’d be above something like a pressed penny machine. What bothers me is that they don’t have the decency to tell you outside that you need another ten dollars in quarters to see the attractions inside. House on the Rock also had a mess of coin-operated items, but they tell you in advance that you’ll need tokens and they even give you a handful. The Ghost Town Wild West Museum doesn’t even have an ATM if you wanted to withdraw cash to do these things, and then they have the audacity to have an animatronic prisoner who begs you for money to (I am not making this up) buy a gun.

So on this “authentic” sign, we learn that old-timey miners used backwards letters to evoke a sense of false whimsy, like the ‘r’ in Toys ‘r’ Us.

Also note the old-timey, authentic christmas lights.

Old timey authentic ghost town or hipster’s living room? YOU DECIDE.

I told Jason to rob the bank, and with each progressive photo, I told him to make a meaner face. Meaner. MEANER! MEANER!

This animatronic guy claimed to have a cure for everything except baldness in men and “the gossip habit” in women. Fuck you, old timey asswad.

Please tell me this is the etymology of the phrase “horse pills”: human and horse-shared medicine.

If you get the used soap, just consider that you’re getting pubes thrown in FOR FREE.

Old timey town or a hipster’s living room? YOU DECIDE.

This little girl is going to learn an important lesson about co-pays and deductibles, because this old timey doctor doesn’t work for free.

I am going to install a skinny mirror in my house and use it exclusively. I’d better eat ice cream for breakfast again, I just can’t seem to gain weight!

I really like Chester A. Arthur’s taste in bedroom sets, but his taste in quilts was apparently ghastly.

For an additional fee (surprise!), you can have your name printed into an old-timey newspaper. I decided they’d gotten enough out of me already and that a little photo editing would suit me just as well.