EDIT: HEY! I thought I turned the cross-posty thing off. I'm still formatting WordPress on my domain, so um, don't look at it. >_> hahaha
My pet archaelogist flew up to Seattle for a couple of days. I was kind of hoping we would go solve mysteries about long-dead people like on Bones, but instead it turns out the only thing she likes more than dead people is dead pennies. We went on a search for machines that ruin U.S. currency for fun and profit, and hit something like eighteen of them in one day.
Our adventures included this hairy little friend:
We fed him two fistfuls of pennies before his owner noticed we realized he wasn’t going to smear them and stamp them with an image of a bone.
So, I constantly argue about car art with my partner. He thinks cars are beautiful when they’re sleek and subtle, with only minor aftermarket adjustments; I think they’re boring, and you should paint all over them and glue things to them, like kindergarten art projects with wheels. This van, for instance, is the coolest SF-themed vehicle I’ve seen in a long time, but he gave me the “You voted for McCain, didn’t you?” face when I showed it to him.
Whatever. I love you, space van. <3
This is my favorite photo from the trip:
I put my phone number against the glass, but it wasn’t interested. Fine, I can take a hint. I know when I’m not withered enough for the popular curiosities to want a piece. At least I’m not a fake, Head! Yeah, you heard me. You and (most) everything else in that display case. A skillful fake that fooled me even after I stood there for three hours and eventually had to be escorted out by security, but a fake all the same. Maybe I’ll make a post about shrunken heads later.
Next, we had dinner in the rotating restaurant at the top of the Space Needle. The restaurant spins around, making a full rotation once ever ~45 minutes, but the walls remain in place. We found a napkin on the windowsill with a conversation on it between two people presumably on opposite sides of the restaurant.
Check out the pantspissing gorgeous view from the observation deck.
My fear of heights isn’t crippling, which means it’s basically a psychological toy I can use to torment myself when I’ve run out of pranks to play on the people around me.
And speaking of pranks…vandalism isn’t always wrong:
That’s public art, man. I would pay extra taxes to have more signs like that.