PERMANENT LIPSTICK by Ginger Knoxx
Need to wish drummer Michael Kinder a sweet birthday. He's celebrating another year of outrunning Father Time by constantly gigging with his bands Butterbean and Blues Brothers Revue. It must be all that clean living he does.
While driving friends home Sunday morning, we passed Mr. Montagne and J. Taylor on foot on Sixth Avenue. Wonder if they were headed for Shakabrah's tasty breakfast (as Hollywood was) or just dragging their well-partied selves home.
THURSDAY, Aug. 3
Rampart Gallery artists converged on The Swiss for post-monthly meeting carousing. Commence dissection of Tacoma City Council, rising housing costs, the ridiculous condo boom (stop it, stop it, stop it) and some shady artist selection processes by some city's museums. The Italian and I joined the crew and got the scoop on Kulture Lab, Hume's upcoming big event. The Swiss' bartenders were sporting this intense look till something funny was said. Then their faces lost 10 years with smiles. Man, who doesn't love those guys? Oops, probably the guy being escorted out, that's who. Pretty much, you can have whatever kind of fun you want at Bob and Jack's place, but youz gots to maintain, ladies and gentlemen, I say, maintain.
SATURDAY, Aug. 5
Proctor District Art Festival seemed under attended. The Italian and I bought our way through the streets acquiring a killer ceramic mask, a set of handworked silver martini sticks, strawberry lemonades, and organic grass fed lamb and pork. The guy from the local farm says, "If you like those country pork ribs, I've got hot Italian sausage for you." Uh-huh - priceless. I chimed right back, "Well, I've already got that." Heh. Onto Woofstock '06 at Cheney Stadium. By 3 p.m. Dugan reported that over 700 people had come through and 27 animals were adopted. Mission accomplished. www.myspace.com/inlunarblue">In Lunar Blue was doing a pretty good version of Tool as we bounced. Ran into Jonah Jensen in the parking lot. He turned us onto his upcoming book: Voices, the Art of Construction - a photo documentary of Stadium High School. Right in time for the centennial celebration. Sweet. Hotrod-A-Rama. What can I say that doesn't get said every year? This year was bigger, better, had more jiggly pinup cheesecake, hot males, a welcome smattering of cars that looked like they'd been on fire at one point versus pristine typical gloss jobs, killer bands, more beer, and just, well, more badassedness (totally not a word, but it fits). The sun burned down, and a Fort Bender dinner break was deemed necessary. Slim Finnegan skated in; Ike and the boys huddled and talked all things punk rock. Breaking away, The Italian and I scooped up Zolack, heading for Rock Pasta. MarTee Cee toured us through Buzzard's VIP Room promising more good times ahead. Yo! We knew you wuz down. A brief chat about the Chihulygans who'll be roaming downtown this weekend led to tales of recent ill-advised, hilarious adventures. Regret them? Nah, I just wish they didn't carry repercussions - like 3-day hangovers. But I should learn to hydrate myself before binge drinking, shouldn't I? Keep your eye out for costumed figures jiving through the museum stretch.
Check out my live show picks of the week here.
Give me a wink and a kiss here. Knoxx knows.