Happy Night

Last Friday, Alvin organized a happy hour for the work crowd and their friends. Unlike many of these happy hours, this one actually left the vicinity of work, at least after stop one. From Kate's Pub in Wallingford, across I-5 from the UDistrict, we headed up to Chapel on Capital Hill. They have an awesome drink menu, which is something I have a great appreciation for. I had a Bruce Lee: sake, cranberry and orange juice. Very nice.

Afterward, the group split up a bit. One group said they were going to the Voo Doo Lounge, so that is where I wound up, although the folks who suggested it bailed. Another group went to a bar where they were thrown out because one of their party passed out on the bathroom floor. Part of that group wound up joining those of us at Bimbo's, the restaurant above the Voo Doo Lounge.

The best part of the evening, however, happened after the lights came up. The six of us climbed into Daniel's car and raced to West Seattle so half of the group could catch the 2:15 ferry to Vashon Island. I was navigator, so I got to sit in front, while the other four squeezed into the backseat. Insane moments like these are generally a thing of the past once you are out of school. It was nice to have one now. We did make it to the ferry dock at 2:07. A happy night all around.

Bachelorette Party

Last night, I went to my second bachelorette party ever. It was a pretty subdued affair, at least if you read the Web sites that talk about Suck for a Buck t-shirts and getting bought shots. Instead, we got her a sash that said Bride, a tiara with tulle, and a magic wand! Our one nod to the raunchy was that I stopped at the Erotic Bakery and picked up a mouth brownie and a penis cupcake.



We picked a restaurant in Ballard, since that is the home of Seattle's only male stripper club, Matador. It is actually a chain of restaurant and tequila bars. The food and drinks were good, but we had a trainee waiter who seemed to be struggling a bit. We decided to skip Centerfolds and try a little Ballard bar crawl. I'd always wanted to go to Carnegie's, a restaurant and bar in an old library, but it was closing when we got there a little before 9!

Two of our group were also crashing so rides home were arranged and a plan to meet up at another bar in lower Queen Anne was arranged. Parking was a challenge, and one of our group spent an amazing time looking before using the groom's parking space up the hill. We each had one drink at the second place, although I went for a Shirley Temple with a splash of orange juice. It was a nice evening.

My first bachelorette party was a long time ago. It was just the bride and the bridesmaids. We just went to the bar at the hotel we were staying, and that was pretty dead. No one really put any energy into it, so it was pretty lame. Energy really is the key to having a good time!

Darkly Dreaming Dexter

Last month I finally got the book Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay from the library to read. I stumbled across the series earlier this year when CBS was showing it Sunday nights, and was instantly fascinated. I'd heard Ellen talk about the show on her talk show, but I didn't get its appeal until I saw it for myself.

I came into the show a few episodes in to the first season, which more or less parallels the book. It is creepy to have a serial killer as the hero of the show, and to have him be a character much more likable than those that populate most sitcoms today. That likability comes from the fact that he is honest about his weaknesses.

It's not very surprising that a strongly emotional person such as myself should be intrigued by a character who has no emotions and must guess at the right emotional note to hit when dealing with people. To some degree, this is also a universal struggle: what is the right role for us to play at this moment with these people. The foreignness of his unemotionally and amorality is mitigated by the fact that we all wear a public mask that shows what we want others to see and hides what we don't want them to see. That his struggle to blend in is one we all face, one way or another. Here's one example:

Many times in my life I have felt like I was missing something, some essential piece of the puzzle that everybody else carried around with them without thinking about it. I don't usually mind, since most of those times it turns out to be an astonishingly stupid piece of humania like understanding the infield fly rule or not going all the way on the first date.

Dexter is also made okay to like by a couple key facts:

1. He seems to have been made the way he is by external forces, a traumatic event he experienced while still an innocent child. The sights and sensations of that time attached themselves to him in such a way as to motivate his adult desires. It
   is a chilling statement on the fragility of our species, if there is any non-fictional truth to it.


2. His desire to kill has been channeled by his (adoptive) father into a moral code that he innately lacks. Dexter does not allow himself to kill randomly. He kills other killers, making it harder to find fault with his hobby than it otherwise would be.


3. He has a sense of humor. He has no ego to protect, and so his honesty treats his strengths and weaknesses alike; he can laugh at himself, at life. Do serial killers really have a sense of humor? Or of whimsy, as the other serial killer in the story does? Charm often seems to be part of the package, although perhaps that is just a careful study of how to attract people to you.

I am looking forward to seeing where Dexter goes, both in books and on television. I welcome the insight about what one needs to do to appear to be a regular human; some of the best food for thought available (at least in fiction television) today.