Results tagged “thehills”

The problem with this particular project is that the Seahawks play St. Louis twice a year. After meals of toasted ravioli and gooey butter cake we are left with slingers, St. Paul sandwiches, and the city’s official dish, Crisco covered in fried caramel and broken glass.

Awwww, cute: "Seattlest" as Google search term in 2001. (Try plugging in "Department of Homeland Security," "9/11 Truthers," "Perez Hilton," or "Sarah Palin bikini." Oh how the times have changed!) As a bonus, laugh with us at how chunky Google's logo looked back in the day.

Between the nonstop DNC coverage and last night’s episode of The Hills, we came to a striking conclusion: Bill and Hillary are the Spencer and Heidi of the Democratic Party. See for yourself:

Those ribs were great, though! And who needs live music anyway when you've got entire seasons of unwatched Lauren vs. Heidi drama?

Mariner big leaguers are feeling good with the team at 13 games over .500, but if they belonged to an M's farm team, they'd be expecting a pink slip.

All across the Ist-A-Verse (or at least the American parts thereof), writers and editors are in the midst of enjoying their three-day weekend. But after the week we've all had, we feel like the break is not only needed, but deserved. Just look at everything we've been doing!

OK, perhaps there weren't a million people at Neumo's on Saturday night, but the turnout for the Buttrock Suites was downright impressive. Replete with live band, the Suites was a smörgåsbord of guilty-pleasure rock, sexy swagger, and manic modern dance madness that threw the first punch and kept swinging all night long. The energy was a bit low when we arrived towards the end of the readings, but it did not stay down once the band took the stage. There were mullet wigs and torn jeans and bandannas and pleather pants, and did we know that Rhett Miller had nice pipes? Yes, he does. However, the prolific singer was in fact Rick Miller, and apparently the mistake we just made happens far to often to good old Rick (thanks for dropping us a line, Rick, and for John Galt's comment). The important point is: Rick Miller had buttrock-worthy pipes that could easily handle a range from Steve Perry to Klaus Meine, and he had Seattlest wrapped around his pinky (current Rick info, including his bluegrass predilections, is on the Buttrock Suites MySpace page).

Weekend warriors, snow-blind idiots -- call us what you want, Seattlest finally made it up to the hills this weekend and well, there's really no graceful way to say this: we're motherfucking sore today. Thing is, we haven't had much exercise the past couple months and our holiday meals have been more than generous to the curious mass growing under our shirt. Either way, we saw the snow reports for Crystal Mt. and fat belly be damned, we were going snowboarding.

-Soriano is out for the year after taking a line drive to the temple last week. He's still experiencing headaches.

Its okay everyone you may un-board your windows and come down from the hills. The State Supreme Court’s upholding of the Defense of Marriage Act means that God will not be seeking revenge on our state through a “natural” disaster.

A post in Tuesday's DCist mentioned a campaign in the other Washington to adopt a bland song named "Come to Washington" as an official "city anthem." Then, in a follow-up post, DCist nominated nine other, better songs. Readers voted for their favorites and suggested a few more. The current fave seems to be the Magnetic Fields' awesomely evocative "Washington, D.C."

Seattlest lived in Seattle for a couple of years without a car and it wasn't that bad. It's a city that's really conducive to walking, what with the hills and the rain and everything, and the bus system is fast and on-time. Oh, also the monorail's coming any day now. Ok, Seattlest lived in Seattle for a couple of years without a car and you know it sucked. We bought a stylish junker for ourselves a while back and have been destroying the environment and participating in global society as an aggressor in comfort and on-schedule ever since.

Recently, a writer for the Seattle Times went mountain biking at night with some friends of Seattlest. Seattlest could not join in the fun, but we were intrigued to see how someone who has never mountain biked at night would report back on the experience. Would he be hooked like we are? Would he curse the day (or night) he got this harebrained idea? Would he survive the night?