Maiden name: Lotsa

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Originally an east-coaster, my husband maintains that Seattle is a pretty easy town in which to make a good impression. We tell each other snobbish little jokes on the topic all the time …

Me: If you want to be the best-dressed person in a Seattle bar, what should you wear?

Rand: What?

Me: Your clean jeans!

or …

Rand: How do you get a standing ovation from a Seattle audience?

Me: How?

Rand: Finish the show.

Ba-da-dum!

The fact is, for how snobbish and elitist us Northwesterners supposedly are, we can be very, very easily impressed. Plays, music shows, and, most importantly, restaurants, are often over-hyped. That’s not to say that we have a shortage of awesome places to eat in Seattle – quite the contrary. We have plenty of great spots to grab a bite. But often, they’re not the places that get the most attention. In an effort to balance out the playing field, I’ve compiled a list of some of the most over-hyped restaurants/eateries in all of Seattle, along with a few alternatives that will hopefully spare you some time, money, and grief. (more…)

I, however, am still sick.

Despite spending much of the week on the couch (and offering up some pretty lackluster posts to show for it), I’m still not feeling 100%. I promise to be back next week with my same level of snark and general angst to which you’ve grown accustom, but today, I just want to reflect on how awesome my friends are. I’ve been home for the last month, and in that time, I’ve actually gotten to hang out and spend time with people in Seattle. It’s been amazing, and every time I decide I want to pack up and move someplace else, I think of my endearing group of stoners, entrepreneurs, and stoned entrepreneurs, and realize I could never leave.

For one, they seem to read this crazy blog of mine. Some of them regularly. Which is why my friend Vanessa immediately thought of me when she saw this:

This also came with a trading card that claims Apolo is 5'7". Maybe with skates on, kid.

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I just read the dumbest article on Yahoo! Shine. Of course, given that I was actually reading an article on Yahoo! Shine, I suppose I deserved the ensuing assault on my intellect.

You can read the entire article here. But I wouldn’t, as I had to use a great deal of willpower to not jab myself in the eye with a spoon after reading it. It is entitled, I SHIT YOU NOT, “How Not to Feel Humiliated While Dining Alone.” It features a photo of an attractive woman looking dubiously at a book.

Of course, what the article presupposes is that eating alone is grounds for humiliation. Humiliation that is so extreme, they provide not one, but eight brilliant solutions as to how to avoid the clearly miserable situation of being seen without a husband in public (okay – maybe I’m reading into it a bit. But not much). Perhaps my favorite is number 6, which encourages you to pretend to be interested in whatever sports game is playing on the tv in order to give yourself “a sense of purpose” (after all, what woman would actually care about sports!). (more…)

Are you taking a photo?

Are you taking a photo inside a museum?

THERE’S NO PHOTO-TAKING INSIDE OF MUSEUMS!!!

These words often play through my head whenever I’m inside of a gallery or a museum. Even if a museum allows photography (hopefully without a flash) it just doesn’t seem right to me. And if it doesn’t allow photography, and you still try and take a photo? Someone should slap your mother.

Of course, I’ve taken a few forbidden pictures in my time (never with flash, of course). But that was in the name of journalism. And by journalism, I mean blogging. But this isn’t about me.

Also, I might have taken a photo of this installation at the LACMA museum. But Katie put me up to it.

It’s about those bastards who keep taking flash photos of art. (more…)

Happy MLK Day, folks. I’m sick, so I’m curling up on the couch with a bowl of soup and staring out my window at the first almost-sunny day Seattle’s had in a long time. Weak.

The view from my couch. Stupid sunshine.

Hopefully you’ll hear from me tomorrow.

I was a smart-ass little kid. This should surprise no one. But in addition to having a smart-ass mouth (smart ass-mouth?), I was also pretty damn proficient when it came to school. And I remember it distinctly biting me in my smart little ass.

Sometime in the second grade, the kid sitting next to me was caught copying off my paper during a test. Rather than force him to move for his offense, our teacher instead made me move my desk, so no one else would be tempted to look at my paper. This would continue every time we took a test for the rest of the year. The cheater got to stay where he was, and I had to move.

It totally blew. (more…)

During my last visit to California, there were inevitably a lot of questions from my family members about my life.

Or rather, there was one question, but it was asked roughly 400 times.

“When are you having kids?”

I swear to holy god, next time someone asks me that, I am going to punch them in the esophagus. As long as you’re asking questions that are none of your goddamn business, why not be more graphic about it? How about, “When are you going to allow fertilization of one or more of your eggs by your hubby’s sperm?” Personally, I can’t understand why questions about when we’re going to have kids are acceptable, but questions about someone’s sexual mechanics aren’t. It’s the same damn thing.

Besides, my husband clearly hates children:

See? They're killing him. It's awful.

This is my husband and my godson. And no, it does not make my heart hurt. Not one bit. Nooo ...

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One the Monday before Thanksgiving, I was upgraded to first class for my Alaska Airlines flight down to San Diego.

I’ve just reached MVP status on Alaska, and it’s the first time I’ve had status on any airline, so up until now, first class has been pretty much a pipe dream for me. I didn’t even know I could request it. On the flight down, they automatically upgraded me at the gate, and I actually asked why.

“Well,” the woman explained, “it’s what we do for MVPs when there’s space available.”

Naturally, I was quite excited (though I wished I had worn nicer shoes. My keens looked a little haggard). I ended up sitting in the first row by the window, and for a while didn’t take much notice of the other passengers. They seemed like nice people, particularly the two gentleman who quickly helped me store my rather heavy suitcase in the overhead compartment. The flight attendant (flight crew member?) assigned to our section was seemed friendly and funny. He was a bald guy in his 40s, and I could hear him chatting with the other passengers, but I had my nose in my Swedish thriller, so I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. (more…)

Part 1 in an ongoing series …

Travelling to see my family is always incredibly educational. Just when I think I know them, I end up discovering something completely interesting - like the specific terms of their probation, for example, or which Eastern European ethnic group “has it coming.”  

On this trip, I figured I wouldn’t uncover anything too interesting – after all, I go to my aunt’s and uncle’s house all the time, so I’ve probably uncovered all the hidden family mysteries their house is hiding, right?

Foolish mortal! OF COURSE not. There’s always more crazy to be found amongst my family. Our neurosis is the gift that keeps on itching. This time, I was lucky enough to learn the following … (more…)