Entry 8: Way Behind

This whole thing feels like a constant struggle between my wanting to have a blog and my not wanting to write a blog. That said, the mental discomfort I feel when I write is probably good for me - it means I'm exercising a part of my brain that needs it. You know, the way you felt when you failed math in high school.

So last weekend Sean and Robin were in town, and that was a treat. If there's one thing Seattle does not have, it's New Yorkers, but for four days it had three of them. Friday night was the "Bachelor Party" at a bar in Queen Anne. It did not feature any strippers or...well, I don't really know what else is associated with bachelor parties. Fun? It didn't have that either. It had a bunch of guys sitting around drinking beers and telling embarrassing stories about the groom, as some guy whispered to me "These aren't really his friends". At one point the bachelorette party swarmed in, which I think means their marriage will have seven years of bad luck.

My goal in writing this is to just start with a topic and type a stream of consciousness, not really thinking too hard about how to organize it or what I'm going to say. The problem with that is that every so often I start to write something and realize that people are going to think that I'm a dick for writing it. Thing is, I clearly am a dick, because I still thought that thing that I decided not to say. So way to go, society - you've successfully oppressed me once again. (Note: I did not run into this problem when I wrote about the improv here in Seattle, but I did get informed that I was a dick.)

Alright, so on Saturday we went to the Solstice Parade. That was a hoot, let me tell you. Every summer Seattle celebrates summer by having this big crazy nonsensical parade. It starts out with about three hundred naked cyclists, followed by naked people dancing, naked people waving things around, and naked people dressed in weird costumes. (Took you a second, didn't it.) If only I could convey to you in this small space just how absurd the whole thing was. There were atheist pirates, pieces of a giant sandwich, robots, zombies, some kind of crazy kickball team, big Bert-clowns (Bert, like from Bert and Ernie), and so much more.

Here are a couple of pictures. I have about 15 pictures that Sean took, but I didn't want to put up any naked pictures of anyone without their consent, so here are the two that are left.

Sunday morning we went down to the market to eat donuts and meet up with Linda Fessenden (of related-to-Alan fame) and her husband or boyfriend or something. Then we visited the Olympic Sculpture Park, which, contrary to the name, sucks. It consists mostly of these giant orange cones, and a couple of sculptures. At the end of it you go into this little building with another sculpture and some crazy wallpaper, and by this point you are bored.

And Monday evening was spent atop the Space Needle, where I hadn't been since I visited here a few years ago.

So that was everything we did, but what was not captured in all of that was how much fun it was to host Sean and Robin for the weekend. They insisted on paying for everything everywhere we went, and they made me laugh constantly, which was refreshing as I left all my comedian friends back home. It was absolutely the best weekend I've had here to date, with the one where I went to see bad improv by myself coming in a close second.