Seattle Something

who really knows [about]

A new distraction for a busy twenty-something Seattleite. Think of this as the Seinfeld of blogs.
PLEASE NOTE: The only rule of this blog is that if you know me, do not reveal my true identity. I can do it myself.

Funny Stories

Again, NO, I am not interested.

Post by Post by The Beast Girl  |  Category: Funny Stories, Not So Cool

Over the past couple of months, I’ve received two notices in the mail about a research project going on in my neighborhood. I did not read the whole thing but did notice whomever partakes in the study / survey will receive $30. Since I am already independently wealthy, I decided I did not care about a measly thirty dollars. OR, I am a private individual who does not enjoy sharing information with people who knock on doors, no matter the cause. ‘Cause in Seattle, there is always a cause.

A couple weeks ago a middle aged woman knocked on my door. When I answered, she politely began telling me about the research project going on and how I could become thirty dollars richer. I may have heard about it since notices were sent out in the mail. I explained to her that yes, I did hear of it and no, I am respectively declining. She attempted to convince me to do the research project. Again, I said, “No thank you…” and shut the door.

The second notice came in the mail and, as a good little girl, ripped it up and threw it away. Never did I think little miss interviewer would return. Not ten minutes ago, someone knocked on my door. No one visits me unannounced, so I immediately knew it was some sort of solicitation. I looked in the peep hole and who did I find? That woman. Little miss interviewer. Kita barked letting me know someone was at the door, just in case I didn’t hear them knock. I debated whether or not to answer but didn’t want her to continue to knock, knowing I was home. I cracked the door and asked, “How may I help you?” She started to explain who she was and how I probably remember and there were a few mail notices about this research project, yadda, yadda. Before she could get two more words in, I’d had enough. I interjected, putting my hand up, and in a calm and respectful tone I said, “Excuse me, as I said before, I am not interested and I will not be interested. So while I appreciate you asking again, I would appreciate you not coming back. Thank you.”

Speechless and taken aback, she fumbled for words and managed a flustered, “Okay.”

Tell me, who is the rude individual? The interviewer who goes to a private residence a second time asking a question the resident has already answered? OR the resident who after already giving a negative answer, gives an indefinite no?!

Stay the f**k away.

we sang. we danced. but we did not steal a thing.

Post by Post by The Beast Girl  |  Category: COOL!, Funny Stories

A lazy Sunday, was this last. My beast friend Tammy and I were in separate cities, as per use (pronounced, usge). BEEP went my phone. Hello text message. OMG. I had forgotten all about it. Bumbershoot. I never care about this Seattle festival. Really, it’s an over priced musical fest but this gal waits for better shows at a lesser cost to me walleta. However, my BEEP went the phone TEXT message rang, “I have an extra ticket to Bumbershoot and Jason Mraz plays tonight. Are you coming? Do you want my ticket?”

Pause. Freak out. Just a little skip of the beat of the heart. Skip. Hop. Jump. OMG.

Reply, enter, enter. “Yes, I would LOVE one! Know anyone with another? I’d love to get two tix…”

Turns out my client / friend has several tickets to the festival. She is a vendor every year and every year vendors get free tickets. So, long story shortest, we got two tickets to Bumbershoot. Sister did not care to go b/c she had an early morning rise the following AM. However, my beast has been a long time lover of the Mr A to the Z. TEXT. Hello? C’mon. C’mon. Two seconds, three seconds. NO REPLY. WTF is she doing? I dunno. RING! “Sup guuuuurl! Did you get my text?!” … “No?!” … “So…I may or may not have TWO FREE tickets to Bumbershoot and YOUR BOYFRIEND is playing tonight. Would you like to join me?!” As IF I did not know the answer.

Fun story number One. Tammy and I could not just waltz into Jay to the Z (standing for the super sexy Jason, not to be mistaken for a washed up rap star). Mr. A Z costs extra to get into. However, my same friend(ish) gave us two passes. One was a VIP weekend pass with the three days listed on it (this is important). The second, mine, was a stage pass with out days listed. We strolled up to the VIP entrance (pronounced en-traunce) and flashed the badges. BLAM. I’m in.

I turn and wait while Tam-dawg speaks with the STAFF. Hmm. This is taking longer than my BLAM, I’m in. Crap. Turns out, two of the three days (Saturday & Sunday) were crossed out on her VIP badge. Shit guys! The STAFF man asks her, “Why is Sunday crossed out? Were you here earlier?”

“Yes, of course,” she responds! She had not. Side note: they stamp your wrist when you enter the VIP gate with an invisible ink. I know, SO high tech. Prolly just lemon juice or some shiz.

“Well do you have a stamp?”

“No?! I didn’t know I had to get a stamp…no one told me I had to earlier…” says Tammy in her cute and quit polite voice.

Speaking up from stage right a lady, whom we do not know, says, “Oh yeah! I remember her! She was here earlier…”

“Yeah!” says Tam to the M-Y.

He allows her to go through and tells her, in her semi-stupor, to get a stamp from the man. We both got stamps. Oh yeah, lil detail, we’d split a bottle of wine, rode the bus downtown and while on the bus, drank two Mike’s hards out of our Nalgenes. Super classy. Don’t judge.

Lamest thing about Bumbershoot and yet another reason I never go, the seating in the stadium is GA. Every man, woman and child for themselves. We showed up with about two songs left in the prior act. We shoved and pushed our way toward the front. This one girl *literally* pushed me when I tried passing. I was just tipsy enough to lash out, “Bitch don’t push me! We’re trying to find our friends! Fuck off!” Haha. I’m a little surprised at myself, even drunk self. Anyway, she backed down big time and we kept moving forward. We tucked ourselves just right of center, nestled in between under 21-ners and SANG OUR HEARTS OUT.

Sadly, all I had was my crappy phone video … no flip.

During the concert Jay to the Z announced his band would be playing at the Crocadile downtown at midnight. Huh. Well isn’t that just great. My little mind started working and apparently Tammy’s did too. We must find Fluffy. (If you have not yet seen Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, you must see it.) After the show closed we ran as fast as we coulds go, hopped on the bus and took our chances. Luckily, I had another friend who I coerced into meeting us down there. Her and her boyfriend saved us a table. We order drinks, twice and then made our way to the back where the show was. There were maybe 100 people? Tamms, confirm?

So we’re chillin’, listenin’ to Jason’s band, some skaw wanna-be white boy rapper and another no-body rapsta. Then, out comes our man.

OMG. We flipped.

He sang, rapped, and got jiggy. It was A-mazin’.

(Sound quality and picture are crap … but you get the idea)

THEN, out of no where, he jumps down into the crowd and starts dancing. Tamms flips her lid and screams. Mind you, we are three? four? G & Ts in. So I push her toward the stage. Could she ask for a better friend? She disappears into the crowd. A few seconds go by. Then a minute. She reappears out of the crowd screaming, “OH MY GOSH!!!!! I TOUCHED JASON MRAZ! OH MY GOSH. OH MY GOOOOOOOOSH!”

Life goal. Check.

In the meantime, Mr. Jay to the Z had begun moving his way toward the back of the crowd, a.k.a. us. So again, I turn to my beast and say, “What the hell are you doing?! GO DANCE WITH HIM!” And she was gone.

Next thing I know, he’s dancing right next to me. Eye contact. Check. Look exchange, “Oh, I’ve seen you before?” “Yes, last November when I met you. I’m sure you remember my soft voice greeting you.”

(Last November. Hello. This is an anonymous blog. I cannot fully reveal. For those who know me, you’ll know this is me.)

The moment passes and I chicken out on kissing his face. Surry. Tammy turns to me with the most extactic look on her face, “I rode his ass all the way to you!” She literally did.

Don’t tell Wonka.

When we got home we called the one person we knew would appreciate the phone call at 4 in the morning her time. Kritta. Tamms later messaged Kirtta about dancing with Jay to the Z saying, “I will never wash my front again!”

This is one for the books.

fare, fare, fare and fair

Post by Post by The Beast Girl  |  Category: Funny Stories, Random

fare: money paid at the entrance
fare: nosh consumed
fare: how we survived
fair: the montana carnival we attended

There are few words able to describe last night’s affair. Drunken might work; or, utter merriment. I will go with the latter.

This is long, but sooo worth the read.

The night started when Tammy got out of class early. “Let’s go to the fair!” she texted me. We quickly ran home to change clothes, grab cameras (both still and video), and convince our roommate Ruth to join us. That was not hard. After much disorganized preparation, we were ready. All of us needed cash, so on the way we stopped at the bank. I withdrew enough money to pay our pimp, I mean roommate, I mean landlord Ruth her cash money for rent and have enough to eat, drink and be merry at the fair. Tammy didn’t know her pin number and needed to borrow twenty bucks. Ruth obliged since she was now well endowed.

Giddy, we walked into the fair and headed straight for the local food section. I’m still not entirely sure how that was any different than any of the other foods, but it didn’t really matter—they had corn dogs. After eating a scrumptious meal, we felt quite parched. We moseyed on over to the beer garden, passing motorcycle cops (note: an important detail to come) showing off their bikes to small children. As we walked passed, we most certainly noticed that one cop in particular, had a very nice behind.

The beer garden was a strange setup. First you had to get your ID checked, which is normal. Then we had to buy tickets to buy booze. The tickets proved a complicating detail in the process of attaining beverages. Bitch beer was $6 a bottle / 2 tickets. Shit beer was $3 / 1 ticket. For some reason, breaking this down into dollars made our minds spin. We somehow managed to figure it out and all bought bitch beer.

We sat down and didn’t leave the beer garden for several hours. Ooops. We saw George W. and his trusty brother Jed. We carded boys who looked 12. We video taped ourselves talking about being at the fair, drawing attention to us. Ooops. We documented more Missoula Magic like Jed and the 12 year olds. One of the 12 year olds was named Austin. Nice boy but grew up in Juno, AK and had some issues. The only thing to do there is, “drink [raising his beer], have sex and do drugs.” Right.

Tammy and Ruth started daring me to do silly things. A.K.A. “You should totally go up to Hot Cop and ask for his number.” “No seriously, you should. Go up and tell him that your friends call him hot cop because he has a nice ass and that they want his number.” It took about 30 minutes and two bitch beers. I stood up, Tammy grabbed the camcorder, and I walked over to Hot Cop.

Me: “Hey, are you still giving rides?”

Hot Cop: “Uh, well we were just leaving. But yeah, I guess we could give you a ride.”

Me: “Oh well I don’t need a ride. I just wanted to sit on it. Are you still letting people do that?”

Hot Cop: “We were allowing little kids to do so…”

Me: “But not big kids?”

Hot Cop: “Haha, well…”

Me: “By the way, my friends think your hot and they call you hot cop and think you have a nice ass and want your number.”

Hot Cop: “Ha. Oh yeah?”

Me: “Yeah, totally.”

Hot Cop: “Where?”

Me: “In the beer garden. I’m not allowed to point.”

[the bike was not on but he was sitting on it, just slightly too far passed the door to see, he began backing up]

Me: “Beep, beep, beeeep.”

Hot Cop: “You mean right there?” pointing at Ruth who then realized I had sold her out and was PISSED.

Me: “Haha, yup. That’s one of them.”

Me: “Well, can I sit on the bike?”

Hot Cop: “Sure. Just don’t knock it over…”

Me: “Haha, okay, how do you not?”

I got on the bike, felt really awesome and then got off and shook his hand. Tammy got the whole thing on tape.

Next to the beer garden was the arena. We could hear the music coming from the Sawyer Brown concert. Earlier there had been security guards at the entrance gate but we noticed they were no where to be found. Ruth and I decided we were going to the concert. We walked over and pushed our way to the front of the crowd. We heard the last three songs, of course they were the best songs and the only songs I knew! It was awesome. We almost got tackled by these drunken people swing dancing in the packed crowd but managed to avoid them.

When we got back to the beer garden after the concert, there were a ton more people. A guy holding several lawn chairs walked passed out table, bumping Ruth in the head with one of the chairs that was red, white and blue. I quickly shouted at him, “Hey! You better watch where those things go!”

Just as quickly as I shouted he shouted back, “HEY THIS IS AMERICA! Respect the stars and stripes!”

So I yelled back, “America?! F*** yeah!”

His chair was essentially the American flag. Classic.

I’m not sure why, well yes I am, but Tammy decided that I needed to marry this guy and made me run after him. She followed close behind with the video camera. When we got up to him, he turned and started yelling about the American chair again and asked if I would like to sit in THE chair. I obliged. “Hells yes!” He struggled to open it but eventually got it to and I sat down. Tammy still filming. OUT OF NOWHERE this guy runs at me. Not kidding. Turns and sits in my lap. OMG. Funny shit. I don’t even remember what he said to me because I was laughing so hard. However, I do know he said something about how he’d been watching us with that damn video camera and wanted in on the action. I then yelled, “NEXT!” He promptly got up and his buddy runs over and sits down. WTF. I was kidding. They were serious. THEN the other guy came back and said down. I then had two guys sitting on my lap in the America chair. Wow. Total hysteria. We got up, Tammy still filming and I told the guys we were making a documentary about Missoula. I kid you not, he says, “Oh no shit! That’s awesome. ‘Round here we play slug-bug with black people. If you see a black person, you say ‘SLUG BUG!’ and punch!”

OMG.

I looked over at Tammy. She was struggling to hold the camera still as we both keeled over, not knowing how to react.

Things calmed down and we decided to walk around to go on rides. What we didn’t realize is that even though there was still 45 minutes left (fair ended at midnight), the ticket booths were closed. We had no way to buy tickets to go on any of the rides. Totally bummed, we started begging. Of course, Tammy is just about the best flirt there ever was. Side note: I actually believe that because she is married and innocently flirting, it makes her more attractive and people FLOCK to her. Resuming: Tammy managed to get us onto this ride that had double seats that go up semi-horizontal and around in a big circle. She stood back on the ground and took pictures while Ruth and I rode the ride. We did our best not to throw up (drink + spinning rides does not mix well). We succeeded…well kinda. Ruth didn’t do so well once we got home. And she was the sober one. Haha. Surry friend. After that ride we went through a bunch of obstacle house thingies. At one of them the guy was being a total ass and not letting us go through it. We had to dance to the Journey song that started and then he finally let the girls on. I stayed back to hold the fort down.

We then sang Don’t Stop Believing on our way out of the fair.

The end.

Aparently facebook thinks i need to go to rehab

Post by Post by The Beast Girl  |  Category: Funny Stories

I mean, honestly? If I admit to being an alcoholic, will I get to go to Kona for free? Cuz I’ll do it. I don’t even care.

This week’s top five

Post by Post by The Beast Girl  |  Category: Funny Stories

OMG.

I just checked my Google Analytics and here are this week’s top five keyword searches reaching my b-log:

HAHA.

WOW.

I’m guessing the second one down didn’t find what they were looking for…

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