Results tagged “fare”

So there's an article about bus fares over on Crosscut--by the Cascadia Center for Regional Development's Matt Rosenberg--that suggests raising the one-zone peak bus fare to $3.50, an amount to make even the most evangelical of bus riders clutch their wallet. (We throw in "evangelical" because the Cascadia Center is a division of the intelligent-designing Discovery Institute.) But it could be a very good idea, we think, against our skinflint judgment.

We were introduced to In the Bowl: Vegetarian Noodle Bistro on Capitol Hill a few days ago and have been planning our return ever since. New (to us anyway, apparently it's been around since at least February), In the Bowl is a welcome addition to the quick, cheap Asian-fare genre on The Hill. A bonus: It's all-veggie and every meal comes with Black Rice Pudding for dessert. The restaurant is small, with an atmosphere reminiscent...

Sometimes we just want a slice of pizza. Not a pie. Not a square. Not a round. We’re talking a slice – one that you can grab with a hand, fold inward, and then tilt downward to watch the grease drip to the paper plate before you take that precious first bite

Thanksgiving doesn't allow for us Seattlesters to partake in our usual rock and roll lifestyles. Instead it's friends and family and mellow times about the house. Our drinking's liable to be more restrained and coordinated with a heavy meal of rich food. (Seattlest Geoff offered some choice beer recommendations earlier this week for those who've got a pit-stop planned on the way to grandmother's house tomorrow.) And according to the weather report, it's going to be cold but clear tomorrow, with morning to afternoon sunshine to make that drive a little more pleasant.

Kim is off to see Susan Werner at the Triple Door Sunday night.

On a blustery day last week, with a check to deposit and a fall farmer’s market to visit, we happily set out on errands. However, when we arrived at the bank it was closed and it seems that we had (again) lost our ATM card. How frustrating. But in an ongoing personal effort to be buoyant in the face of unexpected change, we peacefully retreated to cancel our card and make do. Back in our cozy apartment, we discovered that like Dorothy we’d never really had to leave home at all. Everything we needed for a tasty warm meal was waiting in our kitchen.

One of the great things about Seattle is that it's the gateway to the United States for lots of foreigners. Alaskans, for example, regularly show up at Sea-Tac, wild-eyed and ready to reach for a knife at the first sign of a bear. They've been fleeing the wilderness and arriving on the shores of Seattle since way before regular air service was established. However, last week a particularly 21st century chain of events led one 15-year-old Alaskan to Seattle; she was on her way to North Carolina to meet an internet boyfriend.

Our land, this inlet on the western coast of the North American continent, is a fortunate one, endowed with natural riches and settled by people who do not confuse prosperity with moral superiority. Modesty becomes us; we do not flaunt our advantages.

We're not a tough, no-nonsense ex-military policeman. We're not an "extraordinarily smart, almost supernaturally tough, self-sufficient wanderer who, when he decides something needs doing, gets the thing done with his own unique blend of brains and brawn." Our weight may be somewhere in the range between 220 and 250 lbs., but we're nowhere near 6'5" tall. And when we relate our adventures in first person, we scrupulously avoid the singular.

Early during Sunday's Vampire Weekend set we sent a note to a friend asking, "Has KEXP frat-rock been coined a genre yet?" It was a half-flippant statement, based on the overly-enthusiastic fratty dudes standing to our left and the band's J. Crew ad appearance. In our more bitter days, we would have allowed those two factors to color our impression of the band and their output, but we'd already enjoyed Vampire Weekend's eponymous EP, so we quieted our inner hater (frat guys are people too) and judged the band on their own merits, not the hype, their appearance, or their audience. Sure, being impartial should go without saying, but if you're a long-time reader you know us bloggers are a fickle sort.

Yesterday Seattlest stopped by Chop Suey on the walk home to see how the inaugural edition of the Sunday Summer BBQ Series was going. It was empty. It wasn't terribly surprising, since marketing for the series was pretty minimal, but we do fully support the concept: early shows, with grilled fare available outside. We only stuck around for the first band, Bellingham's The Love Lights, who switch up the indie-pop formula with the addition of a horn section(!), but we left pretty pleased with the experience, since we'd never heard of them before (or the other bands on the bill for that matter). We hope more people show up to future editions of the BBQ series, since the early shows make a nice cap to a day out in the sun (the bands don't get going until 5pm), and this is a nice low-key way to find out about local acts on the rise.

Last night at the Crocodile was one of those evenings you stumble on where things just keep getting better and better. We went down to see headliners Sea Wolf [MySpace] after hearing them do an in-studio bit at KEXP (not posted yet). About two songs in, the indie-folk melodies and lead singer's baritone duets with cello swept us and Shelves of Vinyl off our feet.

Holy smokes! Giant fish on the MTA, Paris Hilton in jail, then out, then in again, Al Gore, goatses, blumpkins, Matt Damon, and baby art critics! It's been a busy week across the Ist-A-Verse, and here's a smattering of what's been going on.

Evidently, you can’t just toss some crunchy vegetables with a mayonnaise-type dressing and call it cole slaw. Well, technically that’s not true. You could, but then you would be subject to censure and ridicule. Like us.

Sunday. Usually, a quiet, contemplative day in the Blogosphere. But not here in the Ist-a-Verse. Nonono! Just look below and see all of the wild and crazy stuff our staffs are up to.

SEX: Sex-positive retailer Babeland closes out 2006 with their annual three day sale, with even some of their most popular toys marked down 25%. Let's face it, the other gifts you may have received this holiday season won't provide the long-term satisfaction something you pick up here will.

and its offspring, Zephyr Grill in Kent. It's as high-spirited as the restaurant's kitschy décor and boffo plates, described last year as Seattle's best "comfort food" by AOL subscribers.

As a public service announcement, we wanted to let you know it's okay to hail a taxi in Seattle. If you always thought it was, go about your business. Nothing to see here.

--We're suckers for wretched snowman. They start off dirty and withered and get melty and small before they disappear entirely in 24 hours. This one's actually got a great snow hat.

Thanksgiving came a couple days early at the Croc last night, when +/- halted their set to don band insignia-clad aprons and invite the audience onstage for rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. Seattlest didn't partake, as we had just eaten a great meal, but we did appreciate the gesture. At the same time, though, we couldn't help but feel that perhaps we would have been better served with less food and more music. Just like a carving knife, it cuts both ways.

, baby, and that's enough.

The best word we've heard to describe Danish band Mew is "unabashed." This trait is a good thing---we'd much rather hear a band play shoegazey post-prog rock earnestly than with their tongue firmly in cheek. Truly, if you (as a band) firmly believe in your over-the-top-ness, well, you just might convince us too. Embrace the inherent cheesiness and you've got a good chance in winning us over.

Torontoist visits the site of a new Frank Gehry structure, stalks "the elusive Bahamas streetcar", and watches Tom Green get surgery.

Strapped for reading material at a Dairy Queen this weekend, Seattlest picked up a guide to the Evergreen State Fair. An article touting the benefits of taking transit to the fair caught our eye. "Good sign," we thought. "Transit options up north!"

There's subterfuge on the menu at the mysterious restaurant called Gypsy. With no permanent address, a revolving list of chefs creating original menus for each clandestine dinner, and an application process that weeds out potential diners who'd betray the cause, Gypsy has us buzzing. Marketing is entirely by word-of-mouth. About 1,000 people have made the cut so far, and dinners for 18 usually sell out less than ten hours after the invitation e-mail is sent. The man behind it all says Gypsy is a success because diners find it liberating to leave their comfort zone: they eat with strangers, don't get to order their food, and don't even know where they're going until a few days before the dinner.

Torontoist immediately wins our heart by using the word "Jackass" in a headline. In fact, we love their use of it so much that we're going to use it as much as possible throughout this post. For example, it looks like there are Toronto-area jackasses besides those who misuse the sidewalk: look at the crap on sale on Toronto's craigslist. But it looks like Toronto doesn't contain the kind of jackasses who pee in public pools, as the issue never came up when they interviewed the creators of art installations in their public wading pools.

There’s subterfuge on the menu at the mysterious restaurant called Gypsy. With no permanent address, a revolving list of chefs creating original menus for each clandestine dinner, and an application process that weeds our potential diners who’d betray the cause,

[This is part two of a series of posts on Movement, Detroit's Electronic Music Festival, held Memorial Day weekend. Part one introduced the festival using Seattle events as points of reference.]