Friday, August 5, 2011

Speak no more of Seattle

Finally caught up blogging the fuck outta this shit.
Betty Page house, off ramp, I-5 and 65th.

Lower Woodland coping.

Seattle summer nights are the best, dark at 10PM. Matt, Morris and Gin: Cheers, see you next time!

Father's Day gift from my brothers, sister and me to my dad: ride on the nose of a WWII B-25 bomber. Jerry was happier than a pig in shit.

Nose art. A couple observations: Damn, she is stacked. Also, must have a healthy appetite as she has unbottoned her top button, or she's ready for...?

And to keep everyone happy, on one side she's blonde, on the other brunette!

How to start a scene: exhibit at EMP.

While at the EMP exhibit (thanks LArry for hooking me up with tix), favorite things were this photo of rulers Mark Arm and Steve Turner slamming at the Met (I only went there twice), and listening to the talking heads speak truth to the U-Men. Tom Price = lifelong hero. Loved seeing the U-Men.

Meg got mad at me when she saw this photo on the camera, but I was trying to get the huge bruise lodged in the small space between short shorts and tall boots. I guess I failed.

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