Usually I save that title for Baranof Enquirer stories but the New York Times put out this piece of garbage last month. The Ghost of Ishmael sent it to me yesterday and it sent me into a heated mess all over again. I had to burn a whole newsstand down then beat up an eight year old delivering papers just to feel better again. Basically this David Laskin guy comes to Seatown for a day and half then writes about what-to-do when you visit MY adopted city. This writer failed completely to capture Seattle and I'm naming my next bowel movement in the morning in his honor. Let's compare how this chump rolls and how yer boy here f-wording rocks yer nutz off in 36 hours.
4pm Friday: Laskin starts his journey in Capitol Hill at a garden and eating lemon cake. Insert politically incorrect joke about the neighborhood HERE and how not surprising his choice was HERE. Then he mentions something about the view. Well if you want a view then there is no better one then from the recently posted Alki Tavern. Either there or Joey's on South Lake Union which accidentally has a nice view out the windows as well.
6pm Friday: OK, by now after the Alki Tavern you've already had more fun than Laskin did his entire trip so I could stop here but I won't. This guy goes to Pike and Pine downtown which is great if you want to get pimp slapped. He goes to a bookstore and then has a $12 cocktail. F-wording idiot. Happy Hour, duh. And even if it wasn't who the hell pays twelve bucks for a drink unless they are at Sea-Tac on their way to a funeral. Since we started in West Seattle and it is rush hour so you might be stuck there I'll suggest we go around the corner and watch hot chicks on rollerblades before sitting down for Pegasus Pizza. You can't go over there and not eat that pie. Can. Not.
7:30pm Friday: NYC thinks overpaying for schmitt is awesome so he has dinner at Sitka and Spruce. Oh, it sounds so northwestern! Too bad you can't e-mail a turd. Anywho, you can't come to this city and not go to a brewery so we'd make a stop at Pyramid across from Safeco Field. Although it ain't my favorite brewery I did work there briefly in 1994 so it has personal significance and although this is for out-of- towners it is always about me. And they have Apricot Ale for Boy David from New York City.
8:41pm Friday: Where'd he go? He quit after his $23 slice of salmon? JC and a side of rice, he got jet lag or something? It isn't even 9pm and dude is done. He's probably at the Westin in his room watching Cinemax. He'll spring for spendy dinners but won't get the real porn but then again his employer is probably paying for the room. Not my problem. We're downtown but skip Pioneer Square and their $7 multibar cover thing to hit Shorty's or Buckley's. Depends on if you want punks arses or jocks. I can go either way.
10:07pm Friday: We go to Buckley's or Shorty's because you need to get out of yer element and live a little.
11pm Friday: Umi. Sushi that will make you cry with happiness.
12:01 Saturday: I know you are thinking strippers but this is Seattle and you'll lose the buzz you worked so hard to maintain as they only serve juice and soda. Unless you are from Alaska then we'll go because you haven't seen a women with or without clothes on who will actually talk to you in some time. Otherwise we go to Vela or go bang on hotel room doors of people who travel across the country and then shift into lame once they get here.
1:30am Saturday: Last call. I'm 39 and don't know any after hours spots so I'm kind of stuck here. I could always eat again in which case means working our way to the Hurricane Cafe.
9am Saturday: He goes to an art thing. We sleep.
10:30am Saturday: He gives Paul Allen a reach around. We sleep.
1pm Saturday: Guess who has butternut squash soup for lunch while I'm dropping his namesake off at the "pool". Lunch is breakfast but unfortunately the Indian buffets are on weekdays so we'll get some pho in the U District and watch SheHuskies wag their tails on The Ave and try and fight off any hangover symptoms.
4pm Saturday: He actually has a decent idea and goes for a walk but in the wrong place. We're doing a lap at Green Lake to see all the milfy joggers and wide variety of walked dogs in breeds you never knew existed.
8pm Saturday: Dude disappears for awhile. Maybe he took his towel out of his cubby and had a nap. Then he gets up and has Italian food at La Vida Loca or something like that. We started drinking again two and a half hours earlier at The Shelter in Ballard and then hit Chinooks for some seafood. Now you want to give me a reach around cuz that grub be good.
Midnight: He's ALIVE! Davey Sprocket is clubbin' it at some lounge I never heard of listening to some techno. I'm speechless. Meanwhile me and oh yeah you are running the Boogie Down Ballard Boozeathon. King's, Hazelwood, Sloop, Market Arms, Bal Mar, Smokeshop, Old Peculiar, and finally the Matador for $5 nachos that put Black and Golds in a headlock.
10:30am Sunday: La Skin finishes up with a bite at a "funky bistro". We're still puking but once that stops we're getting burgers at Dick's. Unless there is a home Seahawks game which in that case we are on our third beer.
4pm Friday: Laskin starts his journey in Capitol Hill at a garden and eating lemon cake. Insert politically incorrect joke about the neighborhood HERE and how not surprising his choice was HERE. Then he mentions something about the view. Well if you want a view then there is no better one then from the recently posted Alki Tavern. Either there or Joey's on South Lake Union which accidentally has a nice view out the windows as well.
6pm Friday: OK, by now after the Alki Tavern you've already had more fun than Laskin did his entire trip so I could stop here but I won't. This guy goes to Pike and Pine downtown which is great if you want to get pimp slapped. He goes to a bookstore and then has a $12 cocktail. F-wording idiot. Happy Hour, duh. And even if it wasn't who the hell pays twelve bucks for a drink unless they are at Sea-Tac on their way to a funeral. Since we started in West Seattle and it is rush hour so you might be stuck there I'll suggest we go around the corner and watch hot chicks on rollerblades before sitting down for Pegasus Pizza. You can't go over there and not eat that pie. Can. Not.
7:30pm Friday: NYC thinks overpaying for schmitt is awesome so he has dinner at Sitka and Spruce. Oh, it sounds so northwestern! Too bad you can't e-mail a turd. Anywho, you can't come to this city and not go to a brewery so we'd make a stop at Pyramid across from Safeco Field. Although it ain't my favorite brewery I did work there briefly in 1994 so it has personal significance and although this is for out-of- towners it is always about me. And they have Apricot Ale for Boy David from New York City.
8:41pm Friday: Where'd he go? He quit after his $23 slice of salmon? JC and a side of rice, he got jet lag or something? It isn't even 9pm and dude is done. He's probably at the Westin in his room watching Cinemax. He'll spring for spendy dinners but won't get the real porn but then again his employer is probably paying for the room. Not my problem. We're downtown but skip Pioneer Square and their $7 multibar cover thing to hit Shorty's or Buckley's. Depends on if you want punks arses or jocks. I can go either way.
10:07pm Friday: We go to Buckley's or Shorty's because you need to get out of yer element and live a little.
11pm Friday: Umi. Sushi that will make you cry with happiness.
12:01 Saturday: I know you are thinking strippers but this is Seattle and you'll lose the buzz you worked so hard to maintain as they only serve juice and soda. Unless you are from Alaska then we'll go because you haven't seen a women with or without clothes on who will actually talk to you in some time. Otherwise we go to Vela or go bang on hotel room doors of people who travel across the country and then shift into lame once they get here.
1:30am Saturday: Last call. I'm 39 and don't know any after hours spots so I'm kind of stuck here. I could always eat again in which case means working our way to the Hurricane Cafe.
9am Saturday: He goes to an art thing. We sleep.
10:30am Saturday: He gives Paul Allen a reach around. We sleep.
1pm Saturday: Guess who has butternut squash soup for lunch while I'm dropping his namesake off at the "pool". Lunch is breakfast but unfortunately the Indian buffets are on weekdays so we'll get some pho in the U District and watch SheHuskies wag their tails on The Ave and try and fight off any hangover symptoms.
4pm Saturday: He actually has a decent idea and goes for a walk but in the wrong place. We're doing a lap at Green Lake to see all the milfy joggers and wide variety of walked dogs in breeds you never knew existed.
8pm Saturday: Dude disappears for awhile. Maybe he took his towel out of his cubby and had a nap. Then he gets up and has Italian food at La Vida Loca or something like that. We started drinking again two and a half hours earlier at The Shelter in Ballard and then hit Chinooks for some seafood. Now you want to give me a reach around cuz that grub be good.
Midnight: He's ALIVE! Davey Sprocket is clubbin' it at some lounge I never heard of listening to some techno. I'm speechless. Meanwhile me and oh yeah you are running the Boogie Down Ballard Boozeathon. King's, Hazelwood, Sloop, Market Arms, Bal Mar, Smokeshop, Old Peculiar, and finally the Matador for $5 nachos that put Black and Golds in a headlock.
10:30am Sunday: La Skin finishes up with a bite at a "funky bistro". We're still puking but once that stops we're getting burgers at Dick's. Unless there is a home Seahawks game which in that case we are on our third beer.
