sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Last night:
  1. Vietnamese eats with the Siberian Siren. I only had 90 minutes for dinner with her - read on for why - but I needed more like 150. I've been busy; stuff is happening.
  2. The quarterly report for Lambert House. I really should know better by now than to ask the director any questions that aren't directly related to the task at hand; his answers tend to turn into the megilah. But I don't know better. And the truth is, he's a natural at making such stories entertaining. I didn't get home until nearly midnight. No, we couldn't have started earlier because he was facilitating the group for gay boys, as I do for the trans folks.
Tonight: Despite being low on sleep, I think I need to hit the Mercury for at least a little while. Some seldom-seen folks from the Seagoth board days said they'd come for the first time in years, and since they have young children, it could be my only chance for a while. I'll see if I can talk them into Dreamwidth. They were on LJ a looooong time ago.
sistawendy: (antler mouse)
Instead of working out this morning as usual, I did my taxes. Yup, Uncle Sam owes me big time. Time to grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.

I went to the rally at UW Tacoma against I-1552, the so-called "bathroom bill" that puts a bounty on trans kids and tries to get yours truly beaten up or arrested. Lots of signs - I have one in my front window now - local dignitaries, trans people, and their families got up to the mike, polished or not. My favorite was a man of about forty with his nine-year-old trans daughter. He recounted how two years ago, she'd told him she was a girl. His reply was, "Let's do this." Yeah, that's a quote.

A few minutes later I worked my way over to him. I had to fight back the tears as I told him, "Thank you. There was no one like you back in the eighties."
He hugged me and said, "I can't imagine any other way."

I missed a turn going home so I took a little extra time driving up state road 509. In my 27 years of living around here I'd never driven that way. The northern end of this road is a straight shot between Seattle and its main airport, but the southern stretch where I was (eventually, after the industrial area) yields spectacular views from the bluffs overlooking Puget Sound. And of course, there are some seriously big and expensive houses on that road, but that wasn't what I was stealing glances at most of the time. It was one of those moments when I think to myself, 'Why do people live elsewhere?'

The antler mouse user pic is in honor of those whose party I missed because sleep overtook me. That's one Goth clothing sale and a queer women's clothing swap that I slept through, so you know the situation was serious. The vodka is strong but the meat is rotten.
sistawendy: (smoldering windblown Merc alley)
Friday: A relatively PG-rated night at The Place With No Liquor License. I met a lady who moved here from NYC recently and just became a member last week. She's cute, she's young(er than I am), she's fun to talk to, and like me she's given to wearing Pride-colored paraphernalia. It's unfortunate that the next women's monthly coincides with a kid weekend. I'll see what I can do about that.

Saturday, part 1: Tasty cocktails and the increasingly accurately named elder Goth crowd all looking fabulous at Nick & Nora Charles's place. My excuse for wearing a camisole as outerwear and fence net hose was that I was going dancing later. [ profile] icprncs's baked goods are flavored with a uniquely artful combination of crack and kryptonite.

Saturday, part 2: Dancing at Lo-Fi with female co-workers. Yes, our CEO is a woman, and it was her idea. Believe it or not, it didn't suck (except for a couple of songs from those cheesy Nazis, Ace of Base). Much hip hop and a packed dance floor, neither of which I expected. And who knew my co-workers cleaned up so pretty? Ahem. My excuse for the beaded choker & liquid eyeliner was that I'd just come from a party full of Goths.

Today: an urban hike from my Lake Place to Swanson's nursery in north Ballard to get pots & soil for all the violets that I've managed to propagate. Even with taking the bus back for most of the way, I figure I walked about sixty (60) blocks today. North Ballard is cooler than I remember. And it hasn't finished gentrifying, but it will soon: there was a lot of new construction along my route.
sistawendy: (drama)
I spent the weekend in Kirkland, mostly riding herd on m'boy and stepping and fetching for Imminent Ex while she was in Portland with Mr. Right Now. I'm so cashing in those brownie points come Burning Man.

I would have missed my hair appointment with [ profile] imflying if they hadn't texted me asking to move the appointment 15 minutes later. Moral: always check your calendar for the whole day first thing in the morning.

Came back from 425-land, worked out, showered, and was about to eat alone at PCC (*Sniffle!) when I got a message from [ profile] dagard saying, basically, that we were going to Witness. I needed no further persuasion. If I had needed it, though, it was there in the form of a tall, cute, lesbian waitress of his acquaintance, which was why he was so insistent.

He needed caffeine, which meant dangerous proximity to Mishu, which in turn meant that I made an impulse purchase: a certain steampunky skirt that I'd had my eye on for months. Pic to follow.

We went to Herb & Bitter Public House, which isn't as twee as it sounds. I have multiple reasons to believe the staff are cool. They have tasty and crazy strong beer. Try the mushrooms.

The pic: the big Mishu skirt
sistawendy: (dolly)
After a disco nap which was cut short by a work situation, I went to the Innerflight crew's party in Golden Gardens park. Many hippies, a surprising number of locally famous techno types, a gorgeous sunset with multi-layered clouds, and music that was mostly right on. Lots of people brought their kids & dogs. Megahappy for everybody.

I think I saw my spiritual children there: four trans girls, or at least awfully femme queens, there in rainbow hair, laddered hose, fishnets, and otherwise Goth clothes and makeup. It was a vision of what I might have been had I been born when they were. One of them - the one who Vogued like a gay boy, I think - exchanged the Secret Trans Smile with me.

On to Re-bar's Ceremony for hanging out with [ profile] cupcake_goth but not, sadly, her stunt husband. A couple of us tried interpretive dances, but it's just not the same without the pair of them. I must have brought the raver vibe with me because the music was much more my speed than hers, which is usually not the case at that night.

And then to Substation in Frelard for the Seattle Church of House Music. On the way from my car to the club I noticed narrative-looking shadows on the windows of the top floor of the building at the substation after which the club is named; I'm assuming that's one of the cleverer public art projects in the city.

The DJ who did his thing for most of my time there was Jayson Spaceotter, whom I'd just heard a few hours earlier at the park spinning a markedly different set. He was, in the words of another raver, killin' it.
sistawendy: (skeptic coy Gorey tilted down)
I've spent a lot of time this weekend either farting around on the Internet or sleeping. I think it needed to happen.
Yesterday I went to the hippiest baby shower ever in a yoga studio with an astounding view of Lake Union. Yes, I loved it that the mother-to-be, E of Burning Man fame, let us write graffiti on her belly. Sure, there were beautiful women, some of whom ran in the same (ahem) circles as E. However, there were zero refreshments provided, liquid or solid, and unless you were a good blues dancer there wasn't much else to do. So I soon bailed and headed for the Merc.

Got social on. Reminisced with [ profile] cajunsblues and [ profile] seelenschwester about the Blue House parties. I want another one, but for a venue you'd need basically need a space the size of my entire apartment building, with a guarantee of no grief from the neightbors. The Merc must, unfortunately, comply with laws governing establishments that sell alcohol.
Went to a party in my neighbor's house where a lady tried to sell us scented candles. Sure, nice food, drinks, and conversation, but the candles were not. My. Thing. Time to go get m'boy.
sistawendy: (mad woman)
Too much food, drink, and loud women-only talking at chez [ profile] aaminahlefae last night. Such gatherings are a regular occurrence, and they're always a good time for me, even if I regret certain parts of them later.

Missed the farewell picnic for [ profile] turtlegrrl13 because I never put it in my Google calendar. Arg! Ah well, I got lots of circumflatulation in.

No plans for tonight because a) I pah-tayed last night and b) I anticipate being a little low on cash for the next few weeks due to b1) a rent rise (Welcome to Seattle!) and b2) money spent on the aforementioned circumflatulation.

I'm feeling kind of lonely. Maybe it's a hangover from the other night with the Tickler. I could definitely use more of that.
sistawendy: (hand staple forehead)
The news for this weekend is that there is no news this weekend. I spent it mostly shopping, cleaning, doing laundry, and giving my son hell.

I did make it to a cancer fundraiser (?!) for [ profile] krypt_kitten. Considering the sums involved, I can't believe it could have have helped much that way, but it was good to see everyone - and eat, and drink. The folks who put it together made t-shirts on which was stenciled "Sugar Tits". Yes, the cancer in question is stage 4 breast cancer.

I'd planned to go dancing in Frelard on Saturday night, but my body said, "You sleep now." Sure enough, I got nine hours of sleep, no doubt making up for being robbed of it earlier by my upstairs neighbors. I'm this >< close to just giving in and setting my alarm for 0600. Yeah, I might as well shred my own Goth card and quit calling myself a computer geek, but that may be the only way I'll ever get any sleep. Besides, it's a good way to avoid traffic during my bike workout.

Spent a few hours and about $7 on chais looking for Megan from 80th. Yes, I've been walking up and down 80th making a note of out-of-state license plates. Hush. No joy. I am (still) undaunted.

Today? StartupCo's annual marketing conference. I won't be spending the whole conference in the green room this time: I'm part of the Twitter response team. I just did an unscheduled shift at the ask-an-engineer booth. I actually got asked an engineering question!
sistawendy: (amused eighteenthcent)
I had drinks last night with a certain queer, married lady in black with an astronomical name. (I can't find her LJ, if indeed she ever had one.) We used to have lunch together relatively often back in our Microsoft days, at least three years ago. Somehow I forgot how much I'd missed it. There was much squee as I told her about my recent dating hijinks. She says I blushed, and I believe her.

No, Ms. Astronomical is not a dating prospect. She's monogamous, and I'm OK with that. (And if I weren't, several of you would justifiably kill me.) Don't get me wrong; I like her lots, she's cute, and we have tons in common. It's just that sometimes you need queer girlfriends who really get you and who are just friends. Cf. the Siberian Siren.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
I dropped off my son for his all-day (!) work shift, then came home to get ready for the rest of the day. I hadn't had time to do my now-usual ride around the lake, so I walked to fave coffee joint Chocolati at the north end of the lake.

The barrista had red coat and a British accent. Perfect. When he was asking a customer about whip (whipped cream for you n00bs), he said, "Spare the rod and spoil the child."
"Depends on the child," I said quietly, and made the did-I-say-that gesture.
"Didn't hear anything," he said. Seattle, I love ya.
I was (and am) wearing these leggings, with the Pride flag on the front and the US flag on the back. The younger, prettier, more made-up blonde woman in front of me complimented me on my leggings - I got a lot of that today - and I said, "They're what you call multi-purpose."
She bought my 12 oz. Chai. She bought. My chai.
She said she'd just moved into the neighborhood, and that her name is Megan. She offered her hand. "Do you live around here?"
"Maura. Yes, I live on [the tonier of the two streets at whose intersection I live]."
"I live on 80th."
Huh. Well, I had a beach date to get to. Besides, I couldn't for the life of me figure out whether I was being hit on or not; I probably wouldn't have pegged her for queer a priori in a million years. Hair? Maaaybe, plausibly queer. Clothes? Again, only a tiny bit plausibly queer, but I have to say she rocks the earth tones. Makeup? Screamed straight, especially at noon on July 4th.

It occurred to me halfway home from Chocolati that Megan from 80th bore some physical resemblance to the Blonde Angel from last year's Burning Man. The Blonde Angel had fairer skin and bushier hair, or so I keep telling myself.

Saw a WWII bomber with two similarly aged fighters flying over the north end while I was heading for...

The nude beach for my date of sorts with Much Younger Woman. Sunshine. Naked queers, mostly men. Frisbee & seaweed in the lake. Smooches while treading water.

Thence to chez [ profile] theda & [ profile] balzacq, where I got to say an all-too-infrequent yeau to my People in Black. Mm, eetz. I have to love a crowd where I can talk about all my... activities in front of pre-teen children without causing a ruckus. I asked [ profile] speedie316 if I had, in fact, been hit on. She and a certain tall redhead are convinced that I was.

Next step: Chocolati, same time tomorrow? Walk up & down nearby stretches of N 80th St. possibly with a sign that says, "Maura from [my street]"? 'Cause I do that kind of thing.
sistawendy: (flirty hippy)
I met the woman from Tinder that I may have mention earlier. At the last minute she informed me that she's recently started growing her hair out from chemotherapy (!) and asked if that was going to be a problem. Well, of course not. (From the Dept. of Small World: Her chemotherapy buddy was CSPC founder Allena Gabosch.) She's a bit taller than I am, as advertised, blonde and femme.

We met at the Pride picnic in Volunteer Park - yes, I know Pride is in two weeks, but the picnic is an earlier, less crowded event - and she had this adorable couple of girlfriends with her. She knows one of my co-workers. She's a few inches taller than I am, as advertised, femme, and probably not a psycho killer. We've exchanged digits. Excelsior!

Oh: I also poked my head in at the Goth picnic that was going on right next door. I think that may have been part of the parallel universe of Goths that I glimpsed at the Baltic Room a while back. I'm not completely sure, but I think I saw someone who is Really Not Welcome in my circles.

ETA: Also at the Pride Picnic I ran into J&J, the lesbian couple who adopted me at my first night-before-Pride, coincidentally enough also at the Baltic Room. Always a pleasure. I wish I saw more of them, but they live up in Mill Creek.

Thence through the University of Washington's graduation traffic to the party that Aspiring Ex threw for my son. I got to see neighbors, old family friends, the usual local in-laws, AXBro, and a cousin of AX's whom I hadn't seen since the bad old days. AX, uncharacteristically, did not feed everyone 'til they popped. I'm OK with that in general, but is she losing her Jewish motherhood?

I left without saying goodbye to AXMom while she was busy talking to her daughter. Yeah, tacky, but I just didn't feel like risking the awk. I wasn't picking up as much hostility from her as I expected, though, throughout the weekend.
Despite wearing something cute tonight I'm staying in because of this stupid cold. My throat is sore, I've only just come down off of the last Sudafed I took, and my eyes are skritchy. What kills me is that Much Younger Woman invited me over for Cards Against Humanity, which I love, but my body is telling me that's a really bad idea.
sistawendy: (drama)
One of my OKCupid contacts told me she's a door person at the Resurrection Goth night at the Baltic Room, which happens on Sunday night. OK, it's a little strange to meet a potential romantic interest when she's on the clock, but it was her suggestion.

But first, a word about the Baltic Room to you non-locals and non-clubbers. It started out in the '90s as the hip, swank live music joint. It had a beautiful cherry wood bar - right in the middle of the space, so its feng shui and flow were crap. That's right: a shotgun dance floor. The place seems to have had its vicissitudes along with the rest of Seattle and the rest of the US. It may be less hip now, but on the third try they've finally arranged things right, with the bar - not quite as pretty, but not bad - against one wall and the dance floor opened up.

One unfortunate thing that I learned upon entering is that a certain person who's rightly persona non grata with several of my Gothier friends is usually a DJ at that night. (Luckily, he wasn't there last night.) The door folks' advice? Check the calendar if you want to come.

The crowd was a parallel Goth universe, with lots of pretty black-clad people that I didn't recognize from the Merc, Ceremony, or the Vogue (RIP).

There was, unusually, a live band last night, namely Sazerac Orchestra. Not bad, and they apparently listen to Balkan Beat Box. The lovely young blonde thing next to me said there are other such bands that play at the Russian cultural center on the Hill. You know where this is going: yet another gay Russian girl. Chatting with her about things of interest to gay and/or Russian girls was the highlight of my evening. I certainly wouldn't mind seeing her again, even if she does have a Ukranian (!) girlfriend.

Oh, will I see the lady who invited me again? Maybe. I'm not in a huge hurry because I have other lady-shaped irons in the fire.
sistawendy: (lizzy)
I found myself with a free Friday night, and as so often on such nights, ended up at the Mercury. There was a sizable crowd there early on because a (the?) local poly organization, NSPP, was having a little gathering there. By little I mean they took up half the joint. That's fine with me.

What's not fine with me is what I heard from one of the organizers of this shindig, D. Background: the elevated middle of the Merc is the best place to see and be seen in the establishment, especially what old schoolers used to call the cool kids' table, the one with the L-shaped booth seating. I remarked to D that it was odd that her group wasn't there. She said that was where they used to sit, occasionally wearing electrical tape on their nipples and making out. Motherhood and apple pie at the Merc, right? Well, they started getting attitude from other patrons. (The staff, to its credit, doesn't give a damn as long as you don't leave bodily fluids lying around.)

The nerve of them! Engaging in and watching that kind of behavior is why people go - or at least went - to the Merc. With condos mushrooming on most blocks surrounding the Merc, I cherish that goofy, freaky, tacky, louche, trans-friendly, and yes, a little sexy relic of Seattle's wilder past. How dare they stick their prudery like a cheap, phthalate-smelling dildo into one of the last places in the city where it doesn't belong?

I did see one instance of electrical tape on nipples last night. That made me feel a little better. Now that I have reasonaboobs I might just do that myself, and strike a much-needed blow against gentrification.
sistawendy: (dolly)
But first: I split my largest African violet three ways without knowing in advance just how delicate they are. One now has no leaves, and the other two are a little low on roots. I stuck a few leaves into one of the pots because heaven knows I knocked a lot of leaves off, which was not the original plan. Violets are tough, but I think I'm about to test their limits. Check back in a month to see how many live violets I have.
Friday: after a dinner & dog walking with m'boy, I felt a really serious social jones. I think fall has messed with my mind. Went to the Merc, drank too much, and started feeling an inferiority complex about my life and the lack of stellar circumflatulation I've done since, well, I started transitioning. I may just have to fix that.

Last night: Ceremony at Re-bar. Happiness is having straight girlfriends who don't mind TMI about lesbian sex (*tips topper to [ profile] cupcake_goth*). People I didn't expect to see there:
  • Monny & Shawna, the former owners of the Vogue. OK, I shouldn't be too surprised because it's exactly the kind of night they had at their club for decades, but I don't see them around too often anymore.
  • Riz Rollins - definitely not the kind of night you'd associate with Seattle's grand old man of house & hip hop, but he used to have a night of his own at Re-bar. It occurs to me that he may have wandered in from Kremwerk, which is around the corner. (I checked Kremwerk out on the way home. Electro flavor.)
  • Some English dude who asked me if he could sit down. ("Sure." The table was empty because all the elder Goths were dancing; they & I have disjoint musical taste.) He asked me if I'm into men ("No, sorry"), and if I'm into girls like myself ("Girls generally"), and then showed me pictures of himself en femme. He let me know he was in town on business. I was creeped out, gave him the could shoulder, and was relieved when the elder Goths returned. Yeah, I've known since before transition that this is trans life. Le sigh.
sistawendy: (dolly)
I watched Heathers last night at chez [ profile] aaminahlefae with a group of Goths & belly dance folks (plenty of overlap there) whom our hostess calls the Crass Chicks. At least a few of us seem to have all the dialog to Heathers memorized. I created a meme with a Burning Man story. Mm, cute, flirty, tiny women of indeterminate sexual orientation. It was a fabulous time.

Tonight: Seacompression. Yes, I go every year, but this year promises to be different. A bunch of Beavers flew up for Bonbon's birthday, so there's to be a pre-funk at her place first, speaking of flirty women. (Bonbon is the Beaver who I ran into at Golden Gardens. She lives about 20 minutes' walk away.) These women are a more than a bit queerer than the Crass Chicks.
sistawendy: (drama)
I hit the Decibel Festival for a night of house at the Hot Creations showcase in EMP's level 3. I did dance my little white booty off to the openers, especially Shadow Child.

The headliners were Angelenos Lee Foss & Anabel Englund. (The latter couldn't look more L.A. if she tried.) Pity I didn't get to hear them together: there were technical difficulties that sent a sound guy scrambling across the dance floor as Foss held down the fort in a fashion that, well, didn't thrill me. I was tired from two successive nights of six hours of sleep, so I took that as a cue to leave, shortly after midnight. Yeah, maybe lame, but at least I had a blister on my heel when I got home. That's always a good sign.

Oh, and I got home not on the E-line as planned but courtesy of [ profile] ionan and his lovely wife, who rolled up as I was waiting for my bus at Aurora & Denny. Naturally, I gave them my extended Decibel lowdown as payback for both the ride and the many fantastic bleepy tracks & suggestions that [ profile] ionan has passed to me over the years.

Good: EMP has not one but three first-rate music venues of various sizes. Bad: Their drinks are priced to match. Therefore you can rest assured that booze didn't cloud my judgment of the tunes; I barely had any on principle.
This afternoon: an open house at [ profile] evillinn and [ profile] ravenmimura's in Lake City. The place was covered with his art, some of the smaller pieces of which he was giving away. (!) I had the perfect place on my living room wall for a cartoon with the caption "Hand Staple Forehead".

But the piece that made me ask [ profile] ravenmimura "How much do you want for this?" was a spoof of the famous "We Can Do It!" poster from World War 2. In place of the usual wholesome female defense industry employee is a lady with long, curly horns issuing from her temples, looking back at the viewer over her left shoulder, upon which she's resting a mace. She's wearing shoulder-length leather gloves, a tattered black coat, and nothing from the waist down. The lettering in the caption is a faithful reproduction of the poster's. This print is now hanging in my living room. I told [ profile] ravenmimura that it's a wonder all the kinky women in Seattle - and we all know there are a great many - haven't beaten his door down for prints of that.

We watched babyvision. It's nice to do that with my People in Black. The little boy tried to climb, as much as a 9-month-old can, onto my big, black equestrian boots; he was fascinated with the shiny leather. Since all the adults present appreciate nice boots, we all approved. And it's fabulous to see [ profile] evillinn breast feeding like it ain't no thang, because it isn't.
Checked in on [ profile] cupcake_goth because I was in the neighborhood. Really. She assures me she is eating her vegetables.

Best. Weekend. Ever.
sistawendy: (dolly)
This entry is in two completely unrelated parts.

Part 1: last night at the Decibel Festival. I only went to one of the "showcases" even though there were, I believe, three going on at EMP alone; others were going on elsewhere in Seattle.

First opener Luke Mandala did the deep house thing right, with just the right amount of melody. My boots were not in the dryer. I'll concede that I felt the urge to dance to him more than the other two artists on the bill, including the headliner. I felt a little sorry for the skinny white boy with EMP Sky Church's Cinerama-sized screen for visuals behind him and Simian Mobile Disco's copious gear under wraps in front of him. He comported himself well, though. I ran into local promoter & label owner Ramiro Gutierrez, who in addition to being a righteous dude is Mandala's publisher. Yet another reason to buy his rekkid.

The second act on the bill, Robert Babicz, seemed lazy in comparison. Even with sparer, more electro-flavored beats & melodies, it seemed to me there were times when his gear was controlling him rather than the other way around.

Headliners Simian Mobile Disco came from outer space with sinister alien insect larva grooves that entered through my ears and ate my brain. Entered? More like crashed. They were kind of loud, and the Sky Church's sound system delivers in both quality and quantity. Nevertheless, they were happy-making in a way that I never heard before from them or anyone else. Sadly, I had a work sitch and sore feet, despite sensible boots, so I scrammed early. I'll definitely be checking out their new LP Whorl, along with Luke Mandala's and Aphex Twin's latest. (No, Aphex Twin did not play Decibel, and I'd be surprised if he ever did.)

What's up with the large number of skinny women at Decibel? And I don't just mean toned, I mean downright skinny. In terms of feeding my insecurities it's worse than Burning Man; maybe being naked or nearly so makes them look less skinny.

If you're wondering where Temptress was, she hasn't been feeling well lately and bleepy isn't her thing.
Part 2, the Goth garage sale at chez [ profile] theda & [ profile] balzacq: I showed up 90 minutes after it opened, deathly afraid that all the best scores would be snarfed. I needn't have worried. I came away with as much as I could carry, within budget, of things I needed and liked. In fact, I'm wearing a sleeveless black taffeta dress with a knee-length circle skirt for Decibel because I got Bigpuppy's tan hairs* on the black dress (What else?) that I wore to the sale.

I don't see my Goth peeps as often as I'd like. As I explained at the sale, I'm a slave to the rave, so I end up going to things like Decibel, Burning Man, and Seacompression instead of the Merc or Ceremony. (A moment of silence for the Vogue, no matter how cheesy you thought it was. It was the trans-friendliest joint in the city for all the years I went there.) Yeah, the sales used to happen more often, but the truth is that these days I need my money more than I need the clothes.

It was good to see [ profile] icprncs & [ profile] morthael back where they belong. They're not allowed to leave again.

*She's part Doberman & part German Shepherd, so she has black hairs & tan hairs with a grey undercoat. She sheds hairs to make anything you're wearing look bad.
sistawendy: (dolly)
I'd had on my to-do list for some time now to check out DivaStomp, a black-clad EBM-flavored ladies' night DJ'd by Brittany Ledyard (who seems to have purged her LJ, or I'd use it). It just so happened, the weekend after Burning Man cleanup, that I was looking for something mellow and social where I could dress up. So, over to El Norte in Lake City I went.

El Norte is a nice venue, complete with patio and enclosed lawn (!), in a neighborhood that makes the needle twitch on my sketchometer. They can has snobby beer, plenty of seats, and a tiny dance floor.

Plenty of black-clad lady eye candy, natch, including some queer women. There was a live band, Lies in Dust, that can play, but their choice in covers was... not what I would have chosen. Luckily, Brittany brought the fabulous tunes.

The down side? DivaStomp is annual, says Brittany. That's too bad, because there was more than enough business for El Norte's staff. And why should central Seattle have all the fun? If the promoters could swing it, the demand is certainly there in north Seattle.
sistawendy: (Prius)
I drove down to the Vampire Masquerade Ball in Portland right after work on Friday, after having done a slapdash job of packing that morning without a list. My Burning Man buddies [ profile] ack_yeahright, her hubby J, and [ profile] quietsoul were just finishing dinner at the Portland Grill, which is on the 30th floor of a building downtown. I have to say, places with a view like that usually slack on the food, but the Portland Grill doesn't.

In fact, we pretty much ate our way across Portland. After hitting Powell's briefly (Yeah, that's possible, to my surprise.) yesterday afternoon, we went to Podnah's Pit in northeast Portland, not far from where the Siberian Siren & I stayed last year. Yes, it's a meatfest, which isn't usually my thing, but I must admit that the bean-free chili was exactly the right amount of spicy. And unlike nearly all establishments outside the South, they didn't screw up the cornbread. Recommended.

For dinner on Saturday, we went to the much-hyped Pok Pok, Thai food in southeast Portland. This place had a short wait at 3:00 on a Saturday; that's how popular it is. Maybe it was because I was still full from the chili, but I thought the papaya pok pok with salted crab was good but not great. The waiter was remarkably careful to warn me about the spiciness and funkiness, but I thought both were perfectly acceptable. The menu is highly original, though, and the drinks and desserts - Yay durian custard! - are fantastic.

On to the ball! It's the Vampire Ball, so everyone pulls out all the stops (How's that for an appropriate metaphor?) and looks as good as they can look. I squeezed myself into what I've heard called the Goth Leprechaun dress: my 1880s bustle dress in green silk. I'm glad I picked a light fabric because it was once again warm in there.

Pics? I didn't take any but there may be some of me that I can post eventually.

Best drink line moment: the zaftig blond in the 1903 nurse's uniform she made exchanged some historical costumer love. Her nurse's outfit is simpler than mine, but better executed.

My tango training came in handy: an unknown man in a top hat danced with me - I don't know what dance it was, but I didn't embarrass myself too badly - and I had a midnight waltz with [ profile] quietsoul.

Speaking of queers, I went there thinking that this was going to be a pretty het party, but I was pleasantly surprised by two dapper butches, and a couple of femmes who were clearly a couple. And then there was this woman my height (Yay!) in black and a mask who was dancing with me toward the end of the evening.

You know those tacky women who make out with each other on the dance floor? You guessed it: we were those women. She has the name of a famous temptress from literature. We exchanged contact info, and I'll be using it shortly. I discovered shortly after all this that she's married to a man, they're poly, and they're well known to [ profile] ack_yeahright and J. It's nice to hear from a reliable source that neither the Temptress nor her hubby are psycho killers.

We didn't go to any after parties; the ball ended at 0200 and the four of us Burner buddies hung out at our hotel until 0415. Today was hangover mitigation, fish & chips at Sam's Billiards, and a lovely if trafficky drive back in the sun.

Huge thanks to [ profile] quietsoul for being the best roommate ever, making the hotel reservations and letting me bum all of the stuff off of her that I left in Seattle due to my uncharacteristically disorganized packing.

ETA: Huge thanks also to [ profile] cupcake_goth for personally inviting me, or I probably wouldn't have gone. I hadn't been since '09, and that year was my first. I had a much better time this year.
sistawendy: (taco madonna)
Mom, m'boy, and I took the 358 to MOHAI yesterday. I think she liked the museum, even if she started to wear out once we got to the 1970s, but the closure of the Mercer street bus stop for construction meant a fair amount of walking to & from MOHAI. Mom wouldn't be the only immediate family member living in Florida whom I'd inadvertently walked into the ground.

Next, a long-anticipated dinner with [ profile] cupcake_goth.

Plan A: the Stumbling Goat, which is closed Mondays.
Plan B: the Gainsbourg, which doesn't allow minors like my son.
Plan C: Naked City, which turns out to have some mighty fine beer that they brew, burgers, and fries.

My mom was pretty quiet due to the death march described above, but I had a fantastic time, not least because I got to introduce the two women who, more than any others, made me who I am today. I enjoyed cluing Mom into Goth in general, plus all the history and the in-jokes that [ profile] cupcake_goth & I have built up over the years. Mom describes [ profile] cupcake_goth as "vivacious".


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