Bung Eaters
First day of Yo Gabba Gabba. Went in early, scrambled to get all the very, very last minute Living Social bullshit prepped for both shows. TONS of tix. Two shows. I sat in box office with Steven. Stef, Joe, Phil ran will call from table in lobby. First show ok, second show longer, slower lines. Emotions a bit high. Everyone edgy, getting fucked over is never fun. Bolin promoter rep, had to explain the mess of an audit and variety of discount stuff to him. End up at work until well after 8. Picked up by Eric after some bourbon on 9. Pinball museum for dudes’ night with him and Maisen. Chinese food across street for dinner - fried bung. Ride home, stopped at Teddy’s and had a pitcher. Home late, after last call. No Gabba Gabba tomorrow!
Half of today was decidedly NOT good. But in an interesting cosmic balancing, the other half was quite enjoyable. Anticipating a rough start and a bounty of “bonus” work the start the day, I arrived an hour earlier than scheduled which turn out to be just barely the right amount of time.
Right up until heading down to open up will call, we were scrambling to organize the atrocious lists, get tickets into envelopes and collated, and generally try not to let anything else implode any more than it already had done. I spent both shows in the box office with Steve while Phil, Stefanie, and Joe handled all the will call at a table in the storm lobby. I wouldn’t say it all went off without a hitch, since clearly there were no shortages of hitched in the ointment, but we got through it. It sucked and tomorrow will suck more.
After work, which ended up being quite a bit later than I anticipated, Eric picked me up for dudes’ night. He and Maisen had already eaten at Marination Station, which closed before I could have made it up there. We went down to the ID to the pinball museum. They have strange hours I know, but on Friday night they stay open until 10pm. We got there with about an hour to play. It turns that that is just about the right amount of time if all you want to do it play pinball. Admission was $10 which would seem more affordable if a person was staying longer than an hour. I suppose it’s a fair deal anyway. The machines are from all decades starting with the 60’s and the place was full of not so attractive dudes with a couple of girls thrown into the mix. Pinball friends who are reading - if you come to visit Seattle, you should give the museum a visit. But your own pinball parlors in your houses are probably more fun.
Maisen had to go home to his family after pinball but Eric had no such requirements. We crossed the street so I could get something to eat at a Hong Kong late night restaurant. Feeling adventurous, and because it was so prominent on the wall and the menu, we ordered deep fried pork bung. The running gag was we “ate the shit outta pork bung.” Hilarious, I know. While it was hot from the kitchen, it wasn’t too bad. As it cooled it got piggier and less thrilling to eat. We didn’t end up finishing that, but the dumplings and soup were tasty. Some of you may have heard the same This American Life episode a few weeks ago about calamari and pork bung. That’s what fueled our need to experiment. The bung we ate was not cut into rings so there was no doubting it was pork bung and nothing but pork bung.
Eric brought he home by way of Teddy’s where we stopped for a while. Tomorrow I thankfully do not have to work Yo Gabba Gabba again and in fact have no intention of going down to the Paramount unless I get an emergency call. I’ll spend all day at the Neptune trying to put the past week behind me and get to Sunday’s one day off work.
Half of today was decidedly NOT good. But in an interesting cosmic balancing, the other half was quite enjoyable. Anticipating a rough start and a bounty of “bonus” work the start the day, I arrived an hour earlier than scheduled which turn out to be just barely the right amount of time.
Right up until heading down to open up will call, we were scrambling to organize the atrocious lists, get tickets into envelopes and collated, and generally try not to let anything else implode any more than it already had done. I spent both shows in the box office with Steve while Phil, Stefanie, and Joe handled all the will call at a table in the storm lobby. I wouldn’t say it all went off without a hitch, since clearly there were no shortages of hitched in the ointment, but we got through it. It sucked and tomorrow will suck more.
After work, which ended up being quite a bit later than I anticipated, Eric picked me up for dudes’ night. He and Maisen had already eaten at Marination Station, which closed before I could have made it up there. We went down to the ID to the pinball museum. They have strange hours I know, but on Friday night they stay open until 10pm. We got there with about an hour to play. It turns that that is just about the right amount of time if all you want to do it play pinball. Admission was $10 which would seem more affordable if a person was staying longer than an hour. I suppose it’s a fair deal anyway. The machines are from all decades starting with the 60’s and the place was full of not so attractive dudes with a couple of girls thrown into the mix. Pinball friends who are reading - if you come to visit Seattle, you should give the museum a visit. But your own pinball parlors in your houses are probably more fun.
Maisen had to go home to his family after pinball but Eric had no such requirements. We crossed the street so I could get something to eat at a Hong Kong late night restaurant. Feeling adventurous, and because it was so prominent on the wall and the menu, we ordered deep fried pork bung. The running gag was we “ate the shit outta pork bung.” Hilarious, I know. While it was hot from the kitchen, it wasn’t too bad. As it cooled it got piggier and less thrilling to eat. We didn’t end up finishing that, but the dumplings and soup were tasty. Some of you may have heard the same This American Life episode a few weeks ago about calamari and pork bung. That’s what fueled our need to experiment. The bung we ate was not cut into rings so there was no doubting it was pork bung and nothing but pork bung.
Eric brought he home by way of Teddy’s where we stopped for a while. Tomorrow I thankfully do not have to work Yo Gabba Gabba again and in fact have no intention of going down to the Paramount unless I get an emergency call. I’ll spend all day at the Neptune trying to put the past week behind me and get to Sunday’s one day off work.