The Ladder (Not Yet Attempted)

For a period of months, my friends and I have speculated about an all-day activity that (to my knowledge) has never been attempted. In fact, the idea could have only evolved in the past few years, due to the recent popularity of alcoholic energy drinks. I must first give credit to Karl for creating, or at least, naming the concept "The Ladder." It's easily the most inventive idea since the Manhattan Project in 1942.
"The Ladder" is the offspring of two heralded traditions: competitive drinking and Scooby's All-Star Laff-A-Lympics (an ABC cartoon series that ran from 1977-78). Although the activity pits people against each other in various games and tests, there is a distinct feeling that everyone who makes it up the Ladder is a winner. Currently there are five stages in the Ladder. Each stage consists of two tasks: (a) consuming an alcoholic energy drink and (b) performing a task.
A winner is pronounced at the end of each task, and scores are totalled at the end of the night (or probably, the next morning, if records still exist). A partially-sober referee is not mandatory, but encouraged. Below is a list of each stage (after the initial Ladder is completed, the order might be tweaked a bit):

Stage 1: Drink a Sparks (6% alcohol) and participate in chipping/putting contest
Stage 2: Drink a Sparks Plus (7%) and fire a BB gun at targets
Stage 3: Drink a Tilt (8%) and play Trivial Pursuit
Stage 4: Drink a Joose (9%) and shoot free throws
Stage 5: Drink a Four (10%) and successfully buy a girl a drink at a bar

Once again, survival is the ultimate goal. But if you happen to nail 8 out of 10 free throws, that's pretty impressive, too. Please submit your suggestions for stage events to the Camel. This is still a work in progress. The Vibe Max could be considered as a beverage, once it has been certified by the appropriate authorities. But, in that case, you're adding 12% to the ladder. I'm not worried about the danger of high alcohol content. I'm just concerned about the integrity of the game and the maintaining a progressive climb.

Dubious Claims?

Recently I've been looking at lodging options in the Puget Sound area.

First off, my parents are coming to Tacoma to visit me, and I suggested the Silver Cloud Inn on Ruston Way. Upon examining the Silver Cloud website, I read that it's the "only waterfront hotel in Tacoma." Whaaaaaat? Can this really be true?

Well, considering there are only about 5 proper hotels in downtown Tacoma and it's the only one located on the water, I suppose the site is correct. In fact, one visitor to the hotel commented: "Our room was right over the water. We woke up to the beautiful sunrise." Not only on the water, but directly over it (which is further proved by the photo). Another vacationer wrote: "The reflection of the water on the ceiling at night is enchanting."

These reviews are more positive than those given to the Rodeway Inn in South Tacoma:
"Staff mistakenly thought we were only staying one night; the 2nd day, they removed our things from the room and ate our food - May 2008."
Then there's the puzzling review of the Days Inn Tacoma Mall posted in September 2008: "Just a roof over my head." Is that favorable? I guess that person just has low expectations.

Later in August, I'm thinking about going camping with some friends after a Flaming Lips concert. I want to stay close to Seattle, and I found a campsite in Fall City called "Snoqualmie River Park and Campground." Some of its features are listed, including clean restrooms, bordering an 18-hole golf course, and fishing and swimming. It also lists disposal station and shade. These two qualities cannot be promoted enough. When I go camping, the first things I think of are:
(A) Will I have some place to put my garbage?
(B) Get that wretched sun out of my eyes.

No More Rage

One thing I'll miss about having a car is being angry at stupid people.

I won't be frustrated when another person drives erratically or cuts me off or makes an ill-advised turn, causing me to apply full pressure to my brakes and shout, "You've got to be kidding me!"
I won't be pissed off when someone parks their car like a jerk. Either using up two spaces or not allowing enough space to parallel park, or making it impossible for your car to get out. And the most questionable tactic of all time: parking in my designated space.
I will no longer be emotionally affected by these offenses. Thus leading to less stress and allowing me to divert my attention to more important matters, such as "Can I make chipotle mayonnaise at home?" and "Why can't they make a more durable tennis ball?"
I certainly won't have to spend as much time writing hate-fueled notes, to be placed underneath the offenders' windshield wipers. Someone has to put those people in their place, but it's not gonna be me anymore. For those of you who continue to commute and compete for parking spaces, I've compiled a list of notes that may help you deal with irritating automobile behavior. In fact, most of them have uses beyond parking violations. You could easily put this sort of message in an e-mail, text or bridge banner. Next time you get irritated, give one of these try.

"You have not earned my respect."

"Once upon a time, there was a guy who owned a Toyota Tercel. Life was pretty sunny and he thought he was really going places. Then his car exploded."

"Your brake lines are fine. Don't worry about it."

"We will never trade fist bumps or high fives."

"Colonel Mustard, in the Library, with a Candlestick."

"You're a bit of douchebag."

"You lied to me. You know what lying does? It makes baby elephants cry. So that means you're on par with an...(OVER)...IVORY POACHER!!!"

"Lost German Shepherd/Collie. Responds to 'Gringo.' Has sock in stomach. Reward: Negotiable."

"Whenever I see you...I get so weak in my knees, I just can't speak. I lose all control, and something takes over me. Also, the backs of my knees get sweaty."

"You have five minutes to leave this town."

"I have your goldfish and your iPod. One of them is not going to make it through the night."

As you can see, threats are best way to deal with problems. Keep this in mind in the workplace, the gym, and the grocery store.

Here In My Car, I'm As Safe As Can Be

I kept looking for the perfect song to memorialize this event.

But I only had my 4G iPod. Not the whole iTunes library.
I was sitting in my car for the last time. It was a pleasant day to say goodbye. The brown grass of Wright Park was reflecting the sunlight. I had the front windows rolled down and my elbow rested outside the driver door. The whole car was covered in a film of tree dust and plant pollen. I had left it on the corner of 3rd Ave. S. and G St. for a while. Even though it was probably going to sit in a lot for a few days or a few months, I felt like I should have cleaned it up for its departure. Prettied it up for the open casket ceremony.
This car meant more to me than high school. It had been a dependable beast on countless roadtrips, moves, workday commutes, and other adventures. It's not like putting a pet to sleep, but my attachment with that machine is strong. I remember it rolling down the dusty roads of Death Valley and I remember it camped in the Gorge and I remember it parked outside all of my old homes and apartments. I remember driving it when I shouldn't have (those moments are a bit fuzzier).

Now I needed a song or two to help me say farewell.
First, I selected "Cars" by Gary Numan on my iPod.
Then there was "Drive My Car" by the Beatles.
After that, there weren't too many fitting choices. I landed on "Silver" by the Pixies, because it's the color of my Subaru. Searches for the keywords "highway" and "drive" revealed nothing. I played "Witch Mountain Road" by Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. Then I just gave up and hit the Random Shuffle.
After listening to "Heaven is a Truck" by Pavement (ignoring the fact that my car's a hatchback), I finished with "In the Streets" by the Shangri-Las, which doesn't have anything to do with automobiles whatsoever. But I found some of the lyrics meaningful (I was going to say "poignant"):

He don't
hang around
with the gang no more
He don't do the wild things
that he did before
He used to act bad
Used to, but he quit it
It make me so sad
Cause I know that he did it
for me

I'll miss you, Subie!
Rest in Peace.

Worst Apartment Complex Name Ever

I promised a while ago that I would write a column on how to select band names from apartment/condo complexes. Well, here it is. All you need to do is:

Go to Rent.com.
Search for a 1+ bedroom apartment (in the $800-$1400 range) in your hometown.
Browse the results to find a catchy name (and to see what kind of life you've been missing. Jacuzzi? Garbage disposal? Washer/dryer inside the unit?)

This is not the best method for certain bands. Probably optimal for folksy, alt-country or bluegrass bands. Serviceable for indie and no-wave bands. But not suggested for industrial or metal music groups. In the latter's case, I would advise walking down a supermarket aisle while reading over an autopsy report.

As I said, keep your search confined to your hometown. You don't want to include a reference that locals won't understand. While "Prickly Pear Lane" and "Saguaro Duplex" might go over well in the Southwest, you might have a concert-goer or music writer in New Jersey scratching his or her head. But that goes along with one of my famous mottos: A watched succulent never blooms.

I performed a search for the Tacoma area, and revealed quite a few gems. The following is a list of places I'd like to park my couch and give my fictional rock band instant recognition in the music community:

Trellis Pointe
Violent Meadows (I added a "n")
The Maples
The Harbor Club
Steeplechase
Willow Springs
The Reserve
Meat & Sausage Company (this was a sign I saw on a bus ride through Tacoma; not actual dwelling)
Wood Song
Hunt Mottet (Lofts)

And, without further adieu, I introduce to you the worst name I've come across. It's so unoriginal I threw up a little in my mouth when my eyes came upon it. I'm supposed to be reminded of a posh, expensive casino in Las Vegas or an extravagant villa in Italy. Instead, it comes off as...well, pathetic. Trying too hard. Or too little...one of the two.

VILLAGIO.

Not quite as bad as "The Coven" in Kirkland, Washington (near where I grew up), but certainly not as fun. At "The Coven," I can at least imagine I live next door to a family of vampires. In "Villagio," I am bound to believe that everything around me has been prefabricated, or it's been recycled and put into cheap packaging. Every moment is a sham and a rip-off. The only thing that could drive me farther away from creative thought is more Ikea furniture.

That's how strongly I feel about this building.

Guide For Expectant Mothers

Ladies, are you expecting a baby boy?

Will he be playing baseball in the 1930s?

If you answered yes to both these questions, here is a definitive list of names for your new child. Of course, consult your husband first. If the father-to-be absolutely hates the sight of laundry, then it's not a good idea to name your son "Clothespins Kelly."

1. Pottery Hands Jackson

2. Lumps Flaherty

3. Suitcase Murphy

4. Hopscotch Malone

5. Meatwagon McClendon

6. Rickets O'Reilly

7. Muppet Face McGillicuddy

8. Ol' Melonhead Wilson

9. Raccoon Boat Jones