Bobble Tiki has said it before, the pivotal scene in the 1986 classic "Pretty In Pink" was not when Molly Ringwald's character finally managed to land the wealthy preppy. The key moment of this film was when Molly proudly emerged in her homemade prom frock. To this day, that pink dress remains one of the most ugly pieces of couture ever captured on celluloid. If you have a similarly striking leftover prom dress, or perhaps a powder blue tuxedo that is in need of airing out, Bobble Tiki has just the event for you. Tonight at 9, there's a 1980s-themed prom at the Varsity Grill in downtown Tacoma. The “Pretty In Pink Valentine’s Day Ball” is more than just a shameless excuse to spin tunes from Echo and the Bunnymen, it's a fund-raiser for the Dockyard Derby Dames.  Tonight will include food, drinks and prom pictures.  Tickets are $15, or $25 per couple.

Suzy Stump incorrectly listed this event has happening on Valentine’s Day in the Weekly Volcano.  She is sorry.  She will most likely be subjected to a “Carrie” scenario tonight at the prom. â€" Bobble Tiki

Showing skin. The birthday suit. Buck nekkid. Au naturel. It all might make for good art, but it also matters what you call it. Naked and nude, for instance, derive from different roots - the German nakt and the French nu, respectively. The first suggests an embarrassing or dirty lack of clothing; the second signifies the intentional bare all pose. One is lewd, the other noble. If it still sounds like splitting hairs, head to the Kulture Lab tonight, and decide what is lewd or noble at the Valentine Erotic Art Show. Besides 30 artists hanging, the Dead Artists host burlesque, a lingerie fashion show, erotic edible art, lounge music, and, oh hell, nudity, people, nudity. - Suzy Stump

[Kulture Lab, Saturday, Feb. 10, 7-10 p.m., 18+, $5, 608 S. Fawcett, Tacoma]

One of the reasons I'm not crazy about eating Sakura Japanese Steak House is that I don't like sharing tables with strangers. It sounds snooty, but it's really more Freudian than that. It's a enduring dread that dates back to my high school cafeteria, when I always wound up sitting at a giant round communal table with someone I didn't like or some honor-roll type who didn't like me. Finally, I just skipped lunch and spent that hour working cigarettes outside with all the other juvenile delinquents.

Last night, I experienced that same uncomfortable feeling when colleague Chris Butler decided it would be fun to check out Sakura, Tacoma’s Japanese steak house frozen in the ‘70s.

What happen to the fun?

A quartet of non-giggly teen girls, three families with very young kids, a couple half dead joined Chris and I around the teppan-yaki grill as if they were headed to the electric chair. 

Maybe if I was offered another Singapore Sling sometime during the meal I might have had a better time.

The same scenario unfolded at Sakura's other five grills.

It’s Friday night people!

Yes, our chef demonstrated masterful high-speed chopping, pepper-mill twirling, salt shaking and meat frying that goes with the job. But where was the witty repertoire?  Where was the art of flipping a cooked shrimp into one of our open mouths?  Where was my second drink?  He simply smiled and cooked.

My filet mignon dinner was tasty enough, but seeing the food â€"including bland ingredients such as mushrooms, zucchini and onion â€" deftly cooked inches away makes the experience seem like more of a culinary thrill than it really is.

But the theatrical, sensual ingredients â€" the tiny bowls of hot soup and cold salad, the noisy chopping and the sizzling oil that ignites into crackling flames â€" are far more important than the food. Once the chef had packed up his cart and rolled it off, it felt as if the curtain had come down on a play.

Afterward, Chris and I said our goodbyes and disappeared into the Tacoma night.

Weird. â€" Jake de Paul

Monkeyshines will unleash marauding gangs of craftspeople, artisans, and their multitudinous admirers on the genteel people of Tacoma. Run for your art! â€" Suzy Stump

Monkeyshines press release:

Tacoma, WA, February 18 - Early Sunday morning, an anonymous Tacoma art project that calls itself Monkeyshines will be placing about hand-blown glass balls throughout the streets and neighborhoods of Tacoma on the eve of the Chinese New Year.

Monkeyshines first became a news item three years ago, when they gave away more than 200 glass balls in honor of the Chinese Year of the Monkey. The next year, in honor of the Chinese Year of the Rooster, 300 glass medallions emblazoned with the profile of a rooster were hidden throughout Tacoma. 2006 saw glass balls stamped with the profile of a dog. This year’s glass balls, each stamped with the image of a boar, will be hidden throughout the city and are meant to be gifts for whoever finds them. The group plans some special, large scale secrets as well.

“Pigs are intellectually curious, honest and tolerant," said one of the anonymous glass artists. “They're known since days of old as being pure of heart and sincere, much like Tacoma's residents. We want these beautiful little surprises to encourage people to continue in their curiosity and authenticity.”

The glass balls were created with the use of a hand-cast bronze stamp that was made specifically for this project. The actual glass blowing will occur during a long and energetic all-day session, where more than 40 glass artists â€" from middle school students to renowned craftspeople â€" will come together at a glass studio in downtown Tacoma to create the pieces and celebrate their community.

Monkeyshines representatives want to be clear that the glass balls are meant to be found, taken home, and shared with friends. “This is an art project that is of, by, and for our community,” said one of the lead participants.

Monkeyshines is not an organization. It is a slightly-crazed art project that may or may not occur again. Keep looking in the low-growing branches of trees for more information.

Here are a couple of photos from Thursday night’s “Coffee and Rhetoric,” where the community voiced opinions on how to develop stretches of downtown Tacoma’s vacant lots at Cutters Point Coffee.

Suggestions ranged from a music venue to a local grocery store to a community garden and low-income housing for artists.

The proceedings intensified and tension mounted between local musicians and a developer with Vision Tacoma who just opened the Marcato, culminating at the end of the show with guest musician Friskey taking up a guitar and composing a song out of thin air called “Opportunistic Bitch” dedicated to the developer.

I asked her later if she had ever had a song written about her.

“Actually, yeah,” she said, “but it was a lot nicer than this one.” â€" Michael Stasiak

Ladies!  If you've ever wanted to hook it up with hottie bartenders like Russ from Doyle's or Damon from the Swiss, Valentine's Day will be your shot.

The Swiss will be hosting Single's Night at 7 p.m. and from now and during that evening you can buy $1 raffle tickets for a shot at scoring a date with the likes of Dreamy Damon and Ravishing Russ.

Damon would probably appreciate it if you bought several tickets to win him. His co-worker Scooter has already bought a bunch so he can have his way with him. That's funny.

All of the proceeds are going to a very worthy organization, the Emergency Food Network.

Me?  I've got $10 on Russ. â€" Natasha

The problem with going big as one gets older is the day-after repercussions grow exponentially.

Saturday was so chock-full of events, fun, and sips in the City of Destiny, that my head didn’t hit the pillow ‘til 5 am yesterday.

And yes, it hurts, today.

Our group was off to a late start due, in part, to my costuming issues. I wanted to stride the line between vamp and trash, equally at home at an erotic arts event and an '80s-based prom, yet suitable for a singles wine tasting event.

Yeah, tall order.

So there we were, standing around with shots of tequila at cultured friend’s house, waiting to figure out what we were doing about transpo.  Her husband saved the day, and dropped us off at Vin Grotto, where Heath Delaney amused and amazed us with his magic antics.  Without giving too much away, let me just say he does this pin-swallowing thing that will either gross you out or impress the heck out of you (possibly, both?) and he’s kind of a mind-reading card trickster.  New friend Emily was trying to figure out how he did the tricks, but I think she left wondering.

We all left wondering how the heck we’d make it up the hill to Kulture Lab â€" it was late, and we were getting there at the tail end of what was, by all accounts, an amazing event.  We caught a ride from the magician himself, and mingles amongst the thinning crowd, bummed that we missed the Glamazon Babes’ drag show.

Even more bummer, Jim Price’s news that there will only be two more Kulture Labs.  “But we will emerge again,” Price proclaimed: “ Like the mighty Phoenix.”

And, one couldn’t help but have one’s hopes buoyed by the titillating sights all around: with the exception of the sausage-and-alfalfa sprout (scary-real-looking) phallus on the treat table, there wasn’t a whole lot of male art around, though there was one piece with a butterfly that I was particularly fond of.

Above the stage, “vintage porn” was projected, though I liked Vin Grotto owner Kris Blondin’s description better: “Sloppy booby porn!”

On many other televisions, various sex-charged images were flashed, and then there it was: “The Volcano.” 

Heee.

Turned out, the Volcano represented at the Tempest, and my friends, including Kris, culture babe, Patty, Emily and I shared a table with Pappi Swarner, Brad Allen, their muy caliente dates, Natasha, Julie, Tabitha, new friend Kake, old friend Houston, and many more new friends than I have virtual ink to mention.  With so much love surrounding me, I had to steal the moment as mine, mine, mine, and celebrate my b-day two days early. 

Patty wanted to go see if he could find a couple of cute boys to look at, so we went off to Club Silverstone before last call â€" man, are they serious about last call being The Last Call â€" hence, we only stayed a wee bit before heading out to after-hours it up at Roland and Cheri’s.

Such a good end to the night!

You know it’s truly late when Teddy Haggarty has been tucked away to bed in the bedroom nook-bed and you’re still standing; Tab took me home and I hit my own pillow with a smile on my lips as I whispered, “I heart Tacoma.” â€" Jessica Corey-Butler

Tickets for the May 7 Fall Out Boy concert at the Tacoma Dome will go on sale Saturday, Feb. 17 at 10 a.m.  They will be touring behind their April 18th release, Infinity On High.  Plus Forty Four will open.

Tickets are $36 at Ticketmaster. â€" Brad Allen

The Weekly Volcano just received this press release.  The South Sound Garage folks have been scribbling notes, snapping photos and following visitors around.  Time for a tune-up.

From the South Sound Garage: "After a short & soft opening, the South Sound Garage will be placing final touches on the venue including a stage extension, installation of a 50,000 watt sound & lighting system and other aesthetics. The 9000 sq ft venue w/37 ft hand-crafted bar and amazingly plush interior will be re-opening March 2 with a radio station promotion by Funky Monkey 104.9FM hosted by the stations Damon Stewart (104.9s GARAGE MONKEY show), featuring Live Music by The Mob Law, Totalisti and Counterfist. You've heard them on the Garage, now see them AT the Garage! A full line-up of local, regional and national acts will be announced soon."

Over the last 12 Valentines Days the significant one and I have shared, he has staunchly subscribed to the theory that Valentines Day is a non-holiday; that the commercial Establishment created the event purely for profit.

I have always smiled, nodded and agreed, because doing so saved me expense and “what do I get him” headaches, and besides, it is a commercial fabrication â€" I’d rather show a person more often than once a year, that they are appreciated.  But that’s just me.

So it came to pass that this year, the Significant Dude sent me “flowers.”

Turned out to be a basket of chocolates from a florist; (Gracias, Grassis!) â€" in it were truffles of many shapes and sizes, dark chocolate bars, many items formerly known as Frangos, and more, more, more.

As it turned out the kid brought me home chocolate, and it turned out the mother-in-law brought me some, too.

I like chocolate, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t love chocolate.

So then we, mother-in-law and I, went to Cello Octet Conjunto Iberico presented by the Tacoma Philharmonic at the Pantages Theater.

More chocolate.

The rich sounds of the cello â€" eight of them, in point of fact â€" soothe the soul in ways that must be experienced.  There is something about the range of the instrument that’s not quite bass, not quite treble, not quite limited by mere mortal “range.”

The instruments, especially in the hands of the Spanish ensemble, can soar from elemental low points into treble notes, can whine into surreal ranges, can rhythmically move together in primal, sensual, modern, beautiful ways.

Combine this with Pilar Jurado, and you have death by aural chocolate decadence.

The first notes she sang, in the opening number by Marlos Nobre, “Tres Cancoes de Beiramar” stunned in ways her mink-brown gown with no back and a train to die for didn’t.  Her voice couldn’t be classified, my mother-in-law and I agreed, as strictly “soprano” because her low notes were just so emotionally involving, and the high notes were always rich, not shrill.  Her voice was so perfectly the cellos’ match that there were times I couldn’t tell where Jurado ended, and the cello began, and vice versa.  That was amazing.

Jurado’s stage presence and interplay with the audience was also engaging; even when she wasn’t on stage and the octet played the excitement was maintained through the innovative pieces that combined the chamber orchestral stylings and synergy that I love with a hint of the unknown.  Surprises were plenty: the second piece was not, as on the program, the stunning Phillip Glass “Symphony for Eight,” (although it did appear, as number three) rather, piece #2 was a Dutch composer’s idea of a Turkish dance.  Conductor Elias Arizcuren explained, through his sexily thick Spanish accent, that the piece was created for the ensemble.  The composer, whose name I wish I understood, said, according to Arizcuren, “I don’t want to hear a single cello sound.”

The piece, unsettling and ghostly, showed the amazing range of the cello; my mother-in-law shook her head sadly and said, “can’t dance to it.”  I tingled with goosebumps at a totally new aural experience and smiled and nodded.

My last surprise of the evening did not lay in the two encores performed by Conjunto Iberico and Pilar Jurado; these pieces had a Spanish flair and emotion that made me happy, make no mistake, but these pieces where what I had expected the whole evening to be.

No, my last surprise in the evening lay in the stunning Christobal Halffter piece, Fandango Sobre un tema del Padre Soler.

Beginning with a pizzicato interplay between two cellists, the piece built from notes spaced seemingly bars apart, which felt like the Simon game I played as a kid, to a soaring, old-school chamber orchestra piece with fun twists on dissonance, and a crazy-cool rising-note pizzicato. The piece very nearly ended on a pianissimo pizzicato, but soared again into a frenzy of sensory overload, then ended on a single note, played in unison, forte pizzicato.

It made my heart sing, and it made me yearn for chocolate.

I bought a bottle of wine, came home, relieved the sitter as I sent the mother-in-law home, munched on some yummies from my basket as I sipped and reveled in how apropos the treat was as a metaphor for my evening.

Yum, Tacoma Philharmonic.

Yum, Significant One.  Happy Valentines Day, and I love you.