Results tagged “lastfriday”

Last Friday we got a chance to poke our noses into the Northwest African American Museum before it opened, as part of a test lunch group for the St Clouds Museum Cafe. The Museum is in the historic Colman School, at 23rd and Massachusetts. It's historic now, that is -- back when we lived across the street, on 25th, it was condemned, boarded up, and left a home for pigeons, until a group of black activists arm-wrestled the city into letting them do something with it. Upstairs there are two floors of "affordable" rental units (studios are $620) for artists, historians, teachers, and anyone else with a good reason to make their home above the Museum.

in the summertime

Last Friday's Broken Social Scene show was a mixed bag. On the one hand, the collective played the songs we love so very very much from their back-catalog along with the new material from their latest output, Kevin Drew's Spirit If and sounded great despite Drew's obvious illness. On the other hand, the show was at The Moore, which had some obvious drawbacks.

We had no idea that FOSEP was hosting firebrands like these guys. As blogfish (where we also learned October 8 was International Cephalopod Awareness Day) puts it, the duo's Framing Science talk "has stirred some blogging scientists to react with great umbrage." Great fucking umbrage, indeed! (It turns out it's just the atheists, being thin-skinned again.) The Seattle event didn't umbrage that many Seattleites that we could see. Many headed over to McMenamins for beer after. But it should have, and not just Dawkins' apologists. We'll explain.

Last Friday we saw Sea Wolf at Chop Suey. We found this Pop Matters review of their first full-length album, but if you'd like to learn more, here's an interview by Sound on the Sound.

We say this with absolute certainty: we will never willingly go see Animal Collective live ever again. The past two times we've seen them have been trying at best. Last year, we convinced two friends to buy their own tickets to accompany us to one of their shows. Last Friday, we talked another friend into going with us to see AC. Both nights ended with us apologizing to our friends for what we made them endure. After Friday night's sold-out show at Neumo's, our crotchety companion provided his two-word review: "vapid and inane." Sigh, he's dead right.

We wouldn't yet call ourselves bicycle "enthusiasts," but we're getting there. We've started riding from work (downtown) to home (Shoreline) about three days a week and we're loving it. We're getting exercise, doing something we enjoy and the majority of the ride, along the Burke-Gilman Trail, is just gorgeous.

Last Friday we had that nightmare where we go back to high school, only we were awake and wearing clothes. From what we read in the papers, high school is a nightmare that has to do with standardized tests leaving kids behind, but that's not the impression we left with.

Last Friday we were lunching outside Von's, and a stream of conventioneers was passing by. Some of them stopped at Von's and we couldn't help but notice that a number of them tripped on the single step on the way in. They'd alert the ones behind them, and they'd take a ridiculously large step through the door. When Von's filled up and they started filtering back out, they tripped on the way out. We didn't remember ever tripping on that step, so we asked this one guy what the convention was, and he told us it was the National Association of Elementary School Principals. We don't normally laugh at people tripping over things in real life, but when elementary school principals do it, it's very, very funny. (The conference's theme was "Soaring to New Heights.")

We hate this loathsome holiday. And no, not for the reasons most people think. Right up there with Mother's Day, we're sick of the commercialization of relationships, of marketers trying to tug at people's unwitting ability to decide for themselves when and how to tell the people around them that they love them.

Back when we made our oh-so-controversial declaration that Seattle's strip clubs sucked, there was a little nagging voice at the back of our head. "What about the Sands?" it whispered. "You haven't actually been there. And they were remodeled recently. Maybe it's awesome!"

Sure, anyone can get lucky with a one-off, but we're convinced this guy should be doing police briefs somewhere:

Last Friday, Seattlest spent an enjoyable evening at the Columbia City Theatre. We were there to see the new Black Box Opera production, “Sondheim, Newman and Weill.” It’s a cabaret show made up of songs by, not surprisingly, Stephen Sondheim, Randy Newman and Kurt Weill.

There was *a lot* going on last weekend, what with the game itself and all other Superbowl-related activities. This weekend, not so much. So if you don't have anything planned for tonight (besides four episodes of Arrested Development), you could always drop by Chop Suey for a free show featuring The Divorce and Wolfmother. Expect a lotta hipsters, as both DJ Franki Chan and The Cobra Snake will be on hand. OMG, I can't wait for all the postmortem pics of terrible 80's fashion, coupled with Sparks tongue and girls trying real hard to look fierce.

Pizza sucks in Seattle. Feel free to post your own obscure favorite in the comments or simply let it pass. Sure, there are a few highlights here or there around the city where something resembling an actual pizza can be obtained, but the overall quality of the city's pizza is piss poor. Here's a tip: If the crust is wet, it sucks. Wallingford, oddly, has a few ok places, though. The Wallingford Pizza House (previously The Chicago Pizza House hint hint at the writer's hometown) is...so-so. Northlake Tavern and Pizza House is a couple clicks above that on the evolutionary ladder. Very edible. Obviously we're struggling to establish a whole lot of pizza credibility in the neighborhood. Enter Tutta Bella, though.

All right, look. Seattlest is just going to come out and say it. Sometimes, there’s nothing better than a wee drink. Or two. And if they’re cheap, even better. Not to mention free drinks – offer us free drinks and we'll ask you to marry us.

An open letter to the girls' 7th grade basketball team we coached this winter: