I was supposed to go out dancing on Capitol Hill this Saturday, but due to my foray into jogging and subsequently being too sore to walk down the stairs, I didn't go.
Turns out I missed my friend getting crowned Mr Gay Seattle at Neighbors. I am not sure how this award works since my friend was a she and is now a he but I am very excited for him.
17 November 2009
14 November 2009
Saturday AM: Greenlake
So, firstly I made the mistake of driving there.
I circled the parking lot several times and by the time I found a place to park on a residential street several blocks away I was, 1.) late to meet my friends and 2.) had to go to the bathroom so badly I thought I was going to defecate in my pants.
Luckily only the former happened.
We went into the Greenlake Starbucks. I know... disgusting, but it was only because my friend HAD to have an eggnog latte. For the record I did not spend a single cent there. I tried to block my ears so I didn't have to hear the travesty of unseasonably early of Christmas music but I was less successful in this.
The place was overflowing with customers clad in every sort of athletic wear, and one guy in the corner in shiny leather pants and cowboy boots. Mainly he sat in the corner on his laptop and occasionally flipped his hair.
One of my favorite things to do at Greenlake is to piece together the parts of conversation that I hear as I pass. Power business people still frenetically taking about their all important deals, gossip from the power walkers and mothers shoving their strollers, the weathered north Seattle hippie types expounding... Unfortunately, I have no jumbled conversation to report today since I was with friends and probably generated my fair share of inane conversation and gossip.
Instead, I started wondering about how many of this mass of morning joggers and walkers were even aware of the rumors that surround this tranquil gray lake and the reflection of the yellow leaves on trees.
Sure we heard about the lake when it had so much algae that it was unsafe to swim, and when random spikes started emerging from the bottom of the lake, not a dangerous prank after all but the result of poor planning (seattletimes.nwsource.com/.../2008074408_spikes26m.html)
But no one ever seems to talk about the 'Greenlake Monster' our own Seattle version of Nessie. The legends started in the 1940's or 1950's I think. The first Seafair was held at Greenlake and one of the performers of the Sea Follies swore that she saw a giant turtle like creature during the practice session for one of the routines. She went into hysterics and was almost admitted in to a mental hospital. I think the only other reported sighting was by a couple out late by the lake in the 1960's.
Maybe the Greenlake monster was there today, waiting beneath the surface to overturn an unsuspecting Kyaker or snatch a passing dog.
Maybe, maybe not.
P.S. When I got back to my car I realized I had left the headlights on and parked in front of a fire hydrant- no ticket though.
I circled the parking lot several times and by the time I found a place to park on a residential street several blocks away I was, 1.) late to meet my friends and 2.) had to go to the bathroom so badly I thought I was going to defecate in my pants.
Luckily only the former happened.
We went into the Greenlake Starbucks. I know... disgusting, but it was only because my friend HAD to have an eggnog latte. For the record I did not spend a single cent there. I tried to block my ears so I didn't have to hear the travesty of unseasonably early of Christmas music but I was less successful in this.
The place was overflowing with customers clad in every sort of athletic wear, and one guy in the corner in shiny leather pants and cowboy boots. Mainly he sat in the corner on his laptop and occasionally flipped his hair.
One of my favorite things to do at Greenlake is to piece together the parts of conversation that I hear as I pass. Power business people still frenetically taking about their all important deals, gossip from the power walkers and mothers shoving their strollers, the weathered north Seattle hippie types expounding... Unfortunately, I have no jumbled conversation to report today since I was with friends and probably generated my fair share of inane conversation and gossip.
Instead, I started wondering about how many of this mass of morning joggers and walkers were even aware of the rumors that surround this tranquil gray lake and the reflection of the yellow leaves on trees.
Sure we heard about the lake when it had so much algae that it was unsafe to swim, and when random spikes started emerging from the bottom of the lake, not a dangerous prank after all but the result of poor planning (seattletimes.nwsource.com/.../2008074408_spikes26m.html)
But no one ever seems to talk about the 'Greenlake Monster' our own Seattle version of Nessie. The legends started in the 1940's or 1950's I think. The first Seafair was held at Greenlake and one of the performers of the Sea Follies swore that she saw a giant turtle like creature during the practice session for one of the routines. She went into hysterics and was almost admitted in to a mental hospital. I think the only other reported sighting was by a couple out late by the lake in the 1960's.
Maybe the Greenlake monster was there today, waiting beneath the surface to overturn an unsuspecting Kyaker or snatch a passing dog.
Maybe, maybe not.
P.S. When I got back to my car I realized I had left the headlights on and parked in front of a fire hydrant- no ticket though.
09 November 2009
Singapore/My Bedroom
I was sitting here on my bed and then I was in Singapore. I didn't mean to go, but suddenly there I was in an office building halfway across the world. I wasn't really supposed to be there either but my friend had whisked me in. I could see and hear the people working in the office but no one else could see or hear me.
In this case the mischievousness of my voyeurism was more exciting than the view. Singapore or Seattle, computer programing is still a bore. I was sort of worried about getting caught so I didn't stick around long enough to find out "Why the fooz table is causing sqlite to fail".
Perhaps next time I'll say hello.
In this case the mischievousness of my voyeurism was more exciting than the view. Singapore or Seattle, computer programing is still a bore. I was sort of worried about getting caught so I didn't stick around long enough to find out "Why the fooz table is causing sqlite to fail".
Perhaps next time I'll say hello.
08 November 2009
Saturday in Queen Anne at the wine bar
Whenever I walk by the wine bar and look in I think how elegant everyone seems inside, drinking wine perched at the counter, happily chatting in the glow of the tea lights. And I wish I was sitting in the wine bar and not running off to some errand in the wind and rain.
When I do happen to be sitting by the window in the wine bar I mainly feel cold because of the draft from the window. The view from inside is less than elegant - but the people watching is great. If you look in I am probably the one clutching on to the minimal warmth of the tea lamp rather than the stem of my wine glass.
Last night some of my friends and I went to Bricco in Queen Anne. It was a girls night, mainly because most of our guy friends were doing something incredibly stereotypically male and boring.
The best people watching sometimes begins with your friends. The night began like this: Three of us arrive together and park on a side street. Sonja announces that she has to change out of the clothing she is wearing because she has just come from a sporting event. She says she is going to change "right here on the street". I think she is going to change in the back of the car, but when I turn around she is standing in the road taking her shirt off. Did I mention that it is cold, windy, and the rest of us are in winter jackets? Just in time to avoid indecent exposure and exposure to the elements, she has pulled a sweater over her head. Two cars drive past and a couple of pedestrians cross at the cross walk. She slides on some flats and we walk around the corner into the bar.
When we get inside the only seats left are in the front window. Not ideal because we are still expecting Fiona and Will. Did I say it was a girl's night? We also invited our friend, Will, who is definitely a guy but ....not boring? I begin to wish I had changed into a sweater too.
Fiona shows up next. She is my roommate, and even though you would never guess it from her name, she moved here from Spain a couple of years ago. I guess her mother studied in Ireland for a year and became obsessed with everything Irish. Behind us at the bar the drunk man behind me starts stroking the rings on the hand of his equally drunk companion. She eventually leaves to step outside. Sonja also steps outside to call her husband who is probably playing video games, and, by the way, not invited to girls night.
Through the window I can see Sonja on the phone and further down the block drunk woman is also on her phone and I wonder why she is squatting down next to the cars to talk. Apparently, however, drunk woman is actually puking her insides out onto the curb, and Sonja tells us all about it when she comes back.
This is all a bit peculiar. I mean, we are in Queen Anne,....at a wine bar. Everyone else is politely sipping Pinot and Syrah, quietly eating overpriced appetizers....really good appetizers with goat cheese mind you, and this woman is vomiting her wine and goat cheese on to the nearest car tire. Whatever happened to elegant?
We are shocked and horrified, well at least horrified enough to steal her chair when Will shows up.
When she and her companion finally do leave, we quickly commandeer their vacated spot at the main bar and cross our fingers that our better seats are not compromised with the residue of vomit.
The bartender winks.
When I do happen to be sitting by the window in the wine bar I mainly feel cold because of the draft from the window. The view from inside is less than elegant - but the people watching is great. If you look in I am probably the one clutching on to the minimal warmth of the tea lamp rather than the stem of my wine glass.
Last night some of my friends and I went to Bricco in Queen Anne. It was a girls night, mainly because most of our guy friends were doing something incredibly stereotypically male and boring.
The best people watching sometimes begins with your friends. The night began like this: Three of us arrive together and park on a side street. Sonja announces that she has to change out of the clothing she is wearing because she has just come from a sporting event. She says she is going to change "right here on the street". I think she is going to change in the back of the car, but when I turn around she is standing in the road taking her shirt off. Did I mention that it is cold, windy, and the rest of us are in winter jackets? Just in time to avoid indecent exposure and exposure to the elements, she has pulled a sweater over her head. Two cars drive past and a couple of pedestrians cross at the cross walk. She slides on some flats and we walk around the corner into the bar.
When we get inside the only seats left are in the front window. Not ideal because we are still expecting Fiona and Will. Did I say it was a girl's night? We also invited our friend, Will, who is definitely a guy but ....not boring? I begin to wish I had changed into a sweater too.
Fiona shows up next. She is my roommate, and even though you would never guess it from her name, she moved here from Spain a couple of years ago. I guess her mother studied in Ireland for a year and became obsessed with everything Irish. Behind us at the bar the drunk man behind me starts stroking the rings on the hand of his equally drunk companion. She eventually leaves to step outside. Sonja also steps outside to call her husband who is probably playing video games, and, by the way, not invited to girls night.
Through the window I can see Sonja on the phone and further down the block drunk woman is also on her phone and I wonder why she is squatting down next to the cars to talk. Apparently, however, drunk woman is actually puking her insides out onto the curb, and Sonja tells us all about it when she comes back.
This is all a bit peculiar. I mean, we are in Queen Anne,....at a wine bar. Everyone else is politely sipping Pinot and Syrah, quietly eating overpriced appetizers....really good appetizers with goat cheese mind you, and this woman is vomiting her wine and goat cheese on to the nearest car tire. Whatever happened to elegant?
We are shocked and horrified, well at least horrified enough to steal her chair when Will shows up.
When she and her companion finally do leave, we quickly commandeer their vacated spot at the main bar and cross our fingers that our better seats are not compromised with the residue of vomit.
The bartender winks.
07 November 2009
Ballard Brunch
I went to brunch at the Dish today, just scraping in before the 1:30 closing time. Noisier and more crowded than ever, but just as good. In fact we were having a spectacular brunch/lunch right up till the table across the way started changing their son's diaper at the table. They had seemed like a normal, slightly, but not-quite-hip family with two older girls and a boy under two. Luckily the boy was too big to change on the table and the offending process happened somewhere between the parents laps and a chair. Then the mother waltzed through the crowded restaurant carrying the soiled diaper to the bathrooms in her hand. I really hope she washed her hands, her husband certainly didn't.
Later as they were leaving Mr. Not-quite-hip interrupted our conversation to ask if he could borrow my pen which was sitting on the table. I acquiesced and too late recalled the diaper incident. Instead of returning the pen he walked pass me out the front door. It was really irritating, but I decided not to say anything, I mean, who wants a pen covered in fecal matter anyway?
Later as they were leaving Mr. Not-quite-hip interrupted our conversation to ask if he could borrow my pen which was sitting on the table. I acquiesced and too late recalled the diaper incident. Instead of returning the pen he walked pass me out the front door. It was really irritating, but I decided not to say anything, I mean, who wants a pen covered in fecal matter anyway?
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