Hear ye, hear ye!

Cans, the latest joint to join the ranks of downtown Tacoma's nightlife scene, will officially open at 9 p.m. on June 19 at 100 S. 9th St. in the former Taboo location.

They've already been pimping themselves out by dubbing the establishment as Tacoma's finest dive. They'll be serving up canned beer only, 20-some kinds, and booze, too.

Your very own Natasha has already snuck in for a tour, but now that we're the coolest kids on the block because we've broken this news about their opening, you'll just have to wait until Thursday's edition of the paper to find out what I think of the joint, and all of the fun that I'm sure will be had there.

I just crushed a beer can on my head. â€" Natasha

There’s a specific, sweet conversation that I seem to be having over and over these days, and it never manages to bore me:

I LOVE Tacoma, and apparently you do, too.

I wind up with this topic week in and week out with every different kind of person imaginable.
Thousands of you love Tacoma for our arts and culture. Others appreciate T-Town because it’s like Seattle used to be before everyone moved there. Several of you are stoked on the rapid growth and development. Many of you know that rolling up your sleeves can really make a difference here. Of course, there are also a helluva lot of you who just love Tacoma’s dirty, gritty foundation. All of you love Tacoma because it’s where you find your Weekly Volcano.

But the point of the matter is that the majority of you are loving Tacoma independent of one another. What a shame.

I have great news, though: There’s a group that’s formed to unite you little T-Town hustlers.
Love Tacoma (that’s the name, and I doubt we’ll ever wear it out) is a group of volunteers who have come together to create fun social engagements in downtown Tacoma to unite 20-and-30-somethings.

The group formed as a result of a Creative Cities workshop where various community leaders converged to figure out how they could make Tacoma smooth enough to continue to attract and retain creative professionals like you and me.

Love Tacoma has now become an assemblage of smart, fun people from various organizations such as Tacoma School of the Arts, BCRA, the City of Tacoma, and The Emergency Food Network. They also partner with groups such as United Way’s Project: U, and the Young Professionals Network of Tacoma-Pierce County.

They know that the fusion between good times, meeting good people and Tacoma’s backdrop of endless, amazing amenities will continue to compel you to live, work, play and stay here.
Now as for social engagements, you can bet they’ll be cool, because I’m so very honored to tell you that Love Tacoma has asked me to develop the list of things that we’ll be up to. Yahoo!

So bust out your planners and Blackberries and mark dem calendars:

The first-ever Love Tacoma event will take place from 5:30 to 7 p.m. on June 12 at the Pacific Grill. We’ll slide in to mingle jingle and experience a signature Love Tacoma cocktail that the PG has been kind enough to create for us. The PG has also extended their happy hour until 7 p.m. for those killer $5 treats. They just might have some other tricks up their sleeve that you’ll have to show up to experience. Sweet!

Trust me: The PG loves Tacoma just as much as we do, and they love you, too.

The best part about Love Tacoma is that everyone is invited to these parties â€" EVERYONE

With that, your involvement in Love Tacoma is mandatory and it’s simple: Just show up on June 12 and let’s party on down.

Loving Tacoma never felt so good.

Go to www.creativetacoma.com or www.lovetacoma.com for more information. â€" Natasha

That fashion forward female Rebecca Dashow has illustrated her entrepreneurial innovation yet again by launching a Web site with her beautiful treasures. Stopping by her downtown Tacoma shop is tough to pass up, but if you don't have time, rock the Web site. Other features of the site will include a monthly newsletter, cool event pictures, and a "looks” category to see the clothes put together. Dashow is even going to let me change the lyrics of the song to "Whatever Natasha wants, Natasha gets." So true, so true. â€" Natasha

Well, I lost the bet that I reported on earlier.  I said that this would be the year where I would have absolutely no rodeo romance, to the tune of $10.

I lost. An Eburg local decided to fall in love with me, so I had to face the music and pay my bros.

Damnit.

But that's just one minor set back to this fantastic adventure.

I moseyed downtown yesterday to find different sub sets of friends at three locations.  Naturally, I went to all of them.  I spent time with about 20 of my pals at the Palace for hours.  Most of us were sitting at the long bar and we were playing thumbmaster, which was funny every time.  One of the girls had a fake toy rodeo gun that she had strategically placed in her holster.  Any time people got smart, we put a cap in their as*.  That never got old, either. I was a juke box hero, especially with the perfect rodeo pick: Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive."

BFF Joy showed up after she got done watching the rodeo (I've decided to avoid all of that this year and just stick to the bars) and we went to the Horseshoe where I promptly took over the dance floor with my friend Carrie.  She's from University Place, so she knows what's up.  I had enough space to break out my hip hop soldier moves and routines (I used to be an instructor).  It wasn't very rodeo of me, but the crowd went wild.

I retreated back to the Tav to find another of my dearest, Andrew.  He and I have the same last name. We were in a "relationships and personal development" class together during college. The professor asked if there were any married couples in the room because he wanted to form a panel. Andrew's eyes got big and his hand shot up in the air.  I talked him out of it because I wanted to avoid letting people know what our relationship really consisted of: Getting faded while drinking Keystone Ice (we were poor college kids), screaming the lyrics to Fugazi's 13 Songs. That's one of the truest senses of liberation that I've ever known.

So, my rodeo Sunday drew to a close with nothing more than a brisk walk back to my base camp here at the Eslinger's.

Right now I'm about to saddle up to the Starlight for their fantastic brunch.  I hear my homie Kenny is working at the Horseshoe tonight.  I might have to go check that out this evening.  Never a dull moment.

I've seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all.

This rodeo is a bone, and all of the marrow is now gone, but it's SO worth it.

I went back to the Tav last night after my nap was interrupted by several phone calls from the bros.

Drinking, drinking, drinking.  I went and rocked the Palace Cafe with some homies for a while. As soon as this big, tall cowboy walked in, I was reminded of something awesome that happened on Friday that I forgot to tell you about.

I had a vocal show down with that cowboy, in the middle of the street, probably at midnight.  I'm not really sure how it started, but we went back and forth there on 4th Avenue with freestyling and covers.  It was so entertaining that we amassed a crowd.  I cleared the gate with a rousing rendition of Susan Tedeschi's "It hurt so bad."  That cowboy went down in a blaze of glory.

On Saturday at the Palace someone somehow played Tina Turner's "What's love got to do with it" on the juke box.  I serenaded that cowboy, and people were in awe.  Catholic school choir was worth something.

I had to go back to the Tav to find my own personal Nick Dav.  I wish I could put him in my pocket and bring him back home with me so you could meet him.  We sat there in a booth for hours and solved all of the problems in the world. Yes.

After, I was confronted with a perplexing circumstance.  When I was 25, I made a pact with my friend Jason that if I wasn't married by the time I was 30, I'd marry him.  It dawned on me last night that I'm 30.  We considered going to Las Vegas, but decided to rock some after hours because we knew that would be even more fun.

Amongst several friends, we boozed until 6 a.m., people, 6 a.m.  Then, naturally, we did what red-blooded, Wrangler-wearing, Ellensburg Blue would do: We went to the Frontier Tavern because that's when they open.

Janetty went and got doughnuts, and we drank the brews until 8 a.m., minus the one that I spilled on myself.

The bros are calling now so I have to be off to more cavorting. There's no time for sleeping.

This rodeo is making it's best attempt at trying to kill me, but good gawd this is the time of my life. â€" Natasha

This is Natasha, reporting in live from the Ellensburg Rodeo.  As most all of you know (because I talk about it WAY too much), Ellensburg is my home, mi casa, the place I went to college.

At one point here, I was dating a local, my roommate was a local, and I was the assistant editor of the local paper.

One of my newbie rodeo peeps turned to me and said, "Dude?!  Do you know EVERYONE here?"  I smirked and said, "Yep."

My weekend started on Thursday.  I rolled into town, straight up to the only bar in the world that will ever really matter to me, The Tav.  My homie Jewels (he once got hit with a softball in the family jewels and he's had that name ever since) let me know that my other boys were playing in the city league softball championship.  I scarfed down my cheeseburger and headed to the field.

Naturally, my boys won, and we went back to the Tav to celebrate.  At one point, the beautiful Smet was leaving with some girl he met just that day, and the boys yelled out (rightfully so): Siphilis is a battle! and Chlimidia is not a flower.

The truth hurts, literally.

Friday led to even more fun.  The Tav turned into a turnstyle, let alone the fact that the juke box was accidentally playing three songs for every quarter (my dream come true).  A steady flow of old college friends, my near and dear locals, and the usual supects showed up.  Amonst several others, I found an old acquaintance, Pete.  I apologized for the fact that his wife felt threatened by me a couple of years ago, and noted that I am absolutely harmless.

His response set the tone for the entire weekend: "Don't talk like that, I've always loved the fact that you're a little bit dangerous."

After some moonlighting at the Horseshoe, some grinding on the dance floor, and avoiding a few old flames, I knew I was free.

A certain bet was set during the course of the night: I decided that this would be one of the first years amongst many that there would be absolutely no Rodeo Romance for me.  I've got $10 riding on it.  Money in the bag.

Today I arose after four small hours of sleep.  I had finished the night/morning after singing Elton John, U2 and Alice in Chains hits with my Jewels and Janetty till 4 a.m.  Woah.

I woke up to a sudden rush of the expected: Saturday here is the best part of the weekend.

My BFF Joy and I got ready in a fury and went straight to the Frontier Tavern at 11 a.m.  As always, we missed the parade, but the best part is the fact that the Clan Gordon Bagpipers exit the parade and go straight to the Frontier to play there, and the place gets PACKED.

All of the people I've ever known in this city were there, drinking big beers in the early afternoon.  People get so trashed that last year my friend walked out spewing foam, and others tend to shed a tear during the bagpipe performance, especially when they bust Amazing Grace out.

This year ushered in a new phase: A couple of my college colleagues decided to purchese 100 goldfish at the pet store across the street and pour them into the foutain in the Frontier beer garden.  At several points in the chaos, at least six people ate live goldfish.  It was a disgusting initiation of sorts, but I couldn't stop laughing.  I was in now way one of them, but I couldn't help but yell, "Omega 3, all for thee!"

Most of the crowd hopped next door to the Tav after the bagpipers moved there for sustinance other than golfish.  That led to awesome food, additional beers, and now, a nap.

More adventures will follow since I'm staying here until Tuesday.  Updates will appear whenever the stupor arises.

I'd rather be a cowgirl. â€" Natasha

Here are Nasty Natasha’s Top 10 ways to get your swerve on for the Fourth.

1. Go to Doyle’s and start drinking Stella during the standing-room-only amazing World Cup game. Make fun of the people who were rooting for Germany.
2. Make your move to Ruston Way and park your car three miles away from the Freedom Fair. High five yourself for wearing comfortable flip flops.
3. Take your first pit stop at the Ram garden because it’s the first one you get to.
4. Drink more beers in Duke’s garden and dance to country music even though you hate that noise.
5. Shimmy over to the Syren garden. Get alleged “margaritas” that are more firewater than mix because the bartender has a crush on you. Forget that you’re drinking them because you’re surrounded by a gaggle of boys who collectively give themselves mohawks on Ruston Way every Fourth. Laugh, laugh, laugh.
6. Go back to Duke’s for the excellent view of the fireworks from their deck. Celebration shots are mandatory.
7. Drink more beers inside Duke’s to keep warm.
8. Go back downtown. Have your friends pick you up at Duke’s because drunk driving kills.
9. Have some final Fourth nightcaps at Doyle’s.
10. Crash at your friend’s apartment near there, and do the walk of shame to the bus in the same outfit from the night before.

God bless America.

I just discovered one of the best drinking tools of all time: public transportation.
I accidentally got so trashed at Doyle's on Thursday (damnit, Silvia!) that I left my car in the garage by my office.
When perplexed with the challenge of getting to work without my vehicle, all of the Pierce Transit marketing set it.
There's a bus route a half block away from the beautiful home I own on the East Side (hustlers and soldiers, fo sho). I called 411 to connect with Pierce Transit, and they let me know that the trusty #42 would arrive in five mintues - PERFECT.
For the best $1.50 ever, I got back downtown lickity split.
OK, let's fast forward to my Memorial Day bender where I decided to give the bus another whirl.
I normally take cabs downtown (safety first, people!), and my friends make fun of me because nearly all of the cab drivers in Tacoma know me by name. That's pretty rock star of me, but $10 or $15 one way can add up quickly.
I opted to hitch a ride with the #42 again on Saturday.
I'll be straight: my outfit didn't exactly fit in with my black micro mini and CFM boots (the hooker hoe down), but people haved looked at me sidways all of my life, what the hell do I care?!
The glorious #42 dropped me off right at 21st and Pacific and I simply slithered into El Gaucho to high five best friend Aaron (formerly of 21 Commerce and Varsity Grill fame) who just started bartending there this week.
If you live anywhere near a bus route, do it. Check out the trip planner on their website. It's not as overwhelming as you think if you know where you need to go.
Now, if I could just convince Pierce Transit to run until 2 a.m.
A safe trip, no DUI, cost savings and people who smelled much better than I thought they would.
What more could a drunk girl ask for?
Wait....don't answer that question.
Thank you, Pierce Transit. â€" Natasha

SCENE OF THE CRIME By Natasha
After giving the Parkway some love last week, I had to follow up in the second of this three-part neighborhood bar expose with Hank's Corner Bar on Sixth and North K Street. Both establishments are owned by the same proprietor, but the personalities are quite different.
You'd never know the name of the bar unless someone told you - there's no sign out front anywhere that lists it, but somehow, people always find their way.
I haven't been back to Hank's ever since I found out that a guy I was dating who works there had a girlfriend the entire time. Grrrrrrr. But I decided that for the sake of this fine entertainment rag I wouldn't let that degenerate keep me from getting the scoop that you, dear readers, deserve. 
I went forth bravely.
My friend John started working the door there on the weekends, and he'd given me several reports on how the place is crackin' on Fridays and Saturdays. I'm pleased to report it's true.
I've always been amused by how comfortable and unpretentious Hank's is.  It's great for kickin' back, playing pool and just catching up with your friends in a non-meat market fashion.
Fleece, jeans and flip-flops are all that's required.  Underwear, too, if you want.
However, don't assume that since the people are casual in dress that they treat their livers the same way. The drinking crowd at Hank's is much more ambitious than the Parkway, mostly because the patrons at Hank's love to get after the hard alcohol.
Red the bartender takes the helm on Fridays and Saturdays. He was one of the first friends I made in Tacoma. Talking to Red is entertaining with his quick-wit, jokes and the occasional sexual innuendo.  I still contend that a little fun-loving harassment from your local bartender is good for the soul.
I usually like to sink $5 in the jukebox there. They have great selections - not as good as the jukebox at Magoo's or the Unicorn but fun all the same. I always get busted for playing Destiny's Child - a guilty pleasure of mine.
And now, a public service announcement: When you're leaving Hank's at closing time, as tempting as it may be to scream the lyrics from the last song you heard or have rowdy discussions with your friends 10 car lengths apart about the after hours party, please return to your vehicle or hop into your cab in a quiet fashion.  The bartenders will be shhhhing you because the north end snobs who live in the homes next to Hank's need their beauty sleep.
Hush little baby, don't say a word. Natasha's gonna buy you a drink that's stirred.
Hank's Corner Bar, 524 N. K St., Tacoma, (253) 627-3480

Tell me where you like to party at sceneofthecrime.

SCENE OF THE CRIME by Natasha
This week I'll be twisting the cap off of a three-week exposé on partying in the cozy neighborhood bars in Tacoma.
How am I classifying "neighborhood bar," you ask? Think rows of residential homes with the warm glow of neon beer signs from a single tavern or pub smacked right in the middle.
Of course, the first neighborhood watering hole that I'll be waxing philosophic about is the Parkway Tavern. Ah, the PDub.
I was first introduced to the Parkway through my softball team. We'd go there every Friday night after our games for what I considered to be the best microbrew/popcorn/quesadilla dinner in town. Even though it's just standard microwave popcorn, it tastes better at the PDub for some reason. Also, the jalapeños in the quesadillas are a tongue lashing, but man, are they good.
I typically took part in these post-game sessions as a pre-func for the rest of the evening, but sometimes the nights were so fun-filled at the Parkway that I kicked it in my cleats until 2 a.m.
It's easy to slip into the Parkway anytime of day. I like saying hello to whichever dog is out front followed by BS-ing with the quick-witted, jovial early evening regulars inside who converse underneath the retired beer taps hanging from the ceiling. It's also good to catch the late nights on the weekends - typically a younger crowd, some college kids, South Sound socialites, and time-honored locals, each of whom is probably stoked that they have the ability to stumble back to their North End abodes. Hello no, Five-O!
The Parkway has really spiffed itself up recently with a renovation of the entire bar. The front area now features a beautiful custom cherry wood bar and soft green paint on the walls. There are brand-new tables and chairs and sexy black leather on the mafia booths over to the side.
In the coming months, the Parkway will also feature a new party room, replete with a plasma television, DVD player, loveseat and a fireplace - like we needed an excuse to call the Parkway our living room. John the manager showed me a sampling of the upholstery that will cover the furniture in the room. It's a soft zebra print. He was kind enough to let me pet the zebra. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me, John. But seriously, the room will soon be available for renting out for big occasions, or on a first come, first served basis. There's also a game room in the back with a pool table, shuffle board, and video games.
What's just as important is the one word that really matters at the Parkway and in life in general: BEER. Over the last year, the PDub has increased its beers on tap from 12 to 20 - music to a Northwest microbrew lover's ears. There also are other beverages, like wine, available for those who are watching their weight, but if you're really from Tacoma, you have to drink beer there. Right now I'm diggin' on Mac and Jack's Serengeti Wheat and the wonderful PDub bartenders who always treat me right.
As I alluded to previously, you haven't truly lived in Tacoma until you've had several pints and fun at the Parkway.
So, pull up a barstool next to me, and let's raise the glasses.
Happy chuggin'.
Parkway Tavern, 313 N. I St., Tacoma's Stadium District, (253) 383-8748

Tell me where you like to party at sceneofthecrime.