SCENE OF THE CRIME >>>

I'm lucky to have this amazing best friend named Oly.

He's originally from T-Town, and he's still a 253 hustler at heart.

Oly lives in Ellensburg with his family now, but he returned to Tacoma for a convention and wanted to hang out with yours truly.
Since he rarely gets the chance to come back here, I let him pick our destination for dinner and drinks - any place, anywhere.

When we were walking toward his vehicle, he seemed a little concerned and said, "I know you're used to fancy, but the place we're going to really, really isn't." I told him I could care less and that I'd rock any Kasbah with him.

With that we pulled up to Spud's Pizza Parlor for my first time ever, and I've never been the same. See what I mean here.

Tell me where you like to party here.

PERMANENT LIPSTICK by Ginger Knoxx

WEDNESDAY, Sept. 20
Met Lovely Lisa at the Kickstand Café. LL took a brief moment out of her busy schedule to clue me in on some upcoming winter fun. Look for a live music concert series at Tacoma's Maritime Museum set to begin in November with at least one Saturday all-ages show a month for starters. She introduced me to Michael Pierce. Pierce does some cool stuff around T-town. Check it at In-Tacoma.  I went by Tacoma City Lights to check out the Wednesday Night Jam, and the bartender told me it was no more. What a shame. A sushi craving came upon me, and I headed for downtown Tacoma's new Japanese restaurant TwoKoi, but changed my mind when I saw the towing party going on. Three cars were being towed away one block off Jefferson between Old Spaghetti Factory and TwoKoi and that was enough to dissuade me. I'll visit another time, I guess.

Read about my Thursday-Saturday adventures here.

Give me a wink and a kiss here. Knoxx knows.

There was a parking spot in front of the Sanford and Son shops last night that some hooligan mucked up for the lot of us, or at least for one lucky, early parker.  A huge terra cotta pot had exploded, sending out a cry for “First Night“ help.

And at the Sept. 27th Sanford and Son-hosted 100th Monkey Party the politically infused undercurrent sought to claim First Night and possibly rename it â€" “Last Night”? As “100th Monkey on Steroids”?  And then there were the undercurrents of an altogether differently ambitious project that may see its fruition five years from now, 10 years from now.  Take that infant Tacoma art scene and see how she grows up.  A photo album of sorts.

Ideas with huge implications notwithstanding, a boozy-fun time was had by all, particularly, myself.

Starting my evening, I saw friends showing familiar faces atop unfamiliar art.  I saw shoes I loved (which, I'm sad to say died by evening's end) attached to a body and a face I didn't even know I knew, and then realized I knew well.  I met the requisite three new people. I talked with old friends, new friends, notable socialite diva rock star friends (hi Ebony, hi Natasha, hi Ginger, hi all kinds of artists I know, because I have met you)

Also, I shopped. I commissioned a new coat, and I saw things I want so badly â€" Haitian lightweight super-cool bowl and vintage silk kimono.  All 100th Monkeys should be this interactive shop-happy-friendly, I'm thinking.

I listened to great music.  The Celtic band made me happy, and the hearing Kim Archer belting “Me and Bobby McGee” made me so much happier. Hearing the song I so slaughtered in karaoke years ago, revived in all its glorious, soulsy- ballsy beauty, I had to revel in the lip-syncing audience singing along, nodding to Kim's rendition.  Dang, it was nice.

Upstairs, the arts, and the artists, were nice.  I loved the incognito soul mate-of-artist-in-mask (despite sweaty heat.)  I loved the $16 CD art, and sub-$50 uber cool handbags by Mindy, a super cool super nice chick. I loved the shops, the people, the life, I saw all around me.  It was like Christmas gone horribly right.

The night, of course, ended, as the best of nights should.  I stood, grasping for an empty bag of wine bottles or a random bag of trash.  Not only are 100th Monkey nights a bit local-politics swayed, they're also intent on cleaning up after themselves.

So how un-P-C is it to  say, God bless Tacoma? â€" Jessica Corey-Butler