Weird Science and Sex Toys

This has been a great week, featuring a visit from our blogless friends from Colorado. Our buddies arrived Thursday and we've been showing them the town and relentlessly browbeating them about moving here from poopy ole' Colorado, and it may be having some positive affect. Thursday night we did fish and chips on Alki, and then Friday they came down to "do" the Public Market, and I met up with them there for some Teriyaki for lunch. Later it was the Westlake/Monorail deal and then home. Friday night every eatery was busy so we ended up at the Fox Grill downtown before going to Babeland, the sex toy store. The novelty of the night was a cone and some restraints. I'll see if Schmoopie wants to report back on the satisfaction index of said device later.

Saturday we went to Vashon Island after eating at a West Seattle joint called Endoline Joes (as in "end of the line") and Vashon really seemed to resonate with our guests. One the way home we arrived to the ferry terminal as the Seattle boat was leaving, so we ate at a Mexican joint right by the docks, and the food was surprisingly good- that is to say, it was good on its own merits. So many times food places with a super-convenient location either screw you on prices or crappy food, and this place did not.

Today, I got up and fuck o'clock to have a play date with Irrelephant and his talking radio blog deal (are you folks checking that out, or what?), and this time Schmoopie got in to the fun after the live airing, and my buddy Andy was going to town in the corresponding chat room. I was much maligned, and a goodtime was had by all. Then we went back to Endoline Joes, followed by a jaunt to Lincoln Park, (as seen in these photos from an earlier visit) and are now goofing off.



We also recovered part of our treed rocket today, which reminded me that I forgot to mention a weird science note from after the launch- I brought the launch pad in the house and one of the dogs seemed really interested in the burned black patch on the metal deflector plate. I thought "he must be fond of the sulphur smell" and then left the room. When I returned, he'd licked the damn thing clean and had hella bad breath. Weirdo. Later that day, he began farting some of the most toxic smelling farts ever- like a landfill on fire. So, don't let your dogs lick your launch pad, mmm'kay?