only in seattle

Can you:

A) Take your puppy to doggie daycare and
B) Watch them via webcam (i.e. Angela's kitty cam on The Office)

I have spent the last 45+ minutes peepin and creepin on Davy Crockett as she rules the world while at daycare. God bless whoever thought to put a live-feeding camera in there. Here's some snaps of her hard knock life at the Downtown Dog Lounge.

Speaking of creepin...Eric Church has a freshy fresh album out with a song by that very name. Little bit humorous, lotta bit weird.

friday cover

One of my MOST favorite Elvis Presley covers, by the loverly Ingrid Michaelson. Happy weekending!

the highlight reel

Friday

The Bad Galarry @ The Piranha Shop. Here we see the elusive BTHOMP
installing his spirit animal on the interactive spray wall

Discovered that Albuquerque sells my personal ambrosia.
Be there in 10 days with an extra checked bag just for wine

Saturday

Lunch at Local 360 in Belltown. Need a smoke break? Just pull the REI recliner
out of the car and park it in the shade like Lord Spencer Barnes of Blackwood




My sisterhood does it again...Brynn becomes the 3rd TGS to say YES!!!





When in Rome...hung up my Colts jersey for the night and hit up the Hawks v. Vikings game with
my sister-in-law. 7 beers, 4 Jack and diets, 2 vodka crans, 1 pee in a sink later...we survived!

BOMBBBBB.COM seats at the C'Link

The Bad Galarry

I honestly can't say it enough - I have really talented friends. We're not talking "I can swallow a piece of pasta and sneeze it out my nose" talented friends. We be talking real musicians, photographers and artists in every sense of the word. Tomorrow night there's not only a Pretty Broken Things show  but also a rip-roaring artist's collective at The Piranha Shop in the form of The Bad Galarry. We'll be celebrating some birthdays and featuring the art of some people I know and love, like...

Billy Thompson AKA BTHOMP featuring his throwback spray art

Sean Hamilton featuring his custom pinstriping and the latest & greatest from his brain child, Rumble Machine Co.

Br@!n Chandler with "Spirit Animal", an interactive stencil exhibit

And Morgan Dillon, the birfday girl herself, with some stunna fashion photography.

Fun fact: Morgan's dog is my dog's boyfriend. And part of the reason I love MD is because she does shit like this to Wallace:

A couple other artists will be featured so come show yer face and support some of my nearest and dearest - 8 pm at The Piranha Shop in Pioneer Square.

i'm conceited

I don't want to brag but I had a bit of a reputation back in the day for being a prestigious white female rapper in Dallas, OR. I'd typically rap in history class or the soccer bus about mullets, science, my stanky coach...you name it, I rapped it. Once I went to college, my pseudonyms were shed and I took up rapping covers of flyyyyyy lady rappers, of which Remy Ma and Nikki Minaj are my favorites.

Remy Ma's I'm Conceited was the first full rap I ever memorized. I used to perform it in college for any ear that would listen. I rediscovered the video the other night and still can remember every word. Three cheers for badass women spittin a little self pride like Remy.

pretty broken things

I will never forget how I met Katie Costello, the firecracker songstress behind Pretty Broken Things. It was a dark and stormy night...well, not really. But it was a dark night at the Sunset Tavern for a Hot Bodies in Motion show. I complimented Katie on her vintage watch (Timex? Casio? Something superrrr fly) and she proceeded to leave the table by crawling underneath it. Why? So she could snag a front row spot to dance her pretty little bum off during the show. I'm now nearly certain Katie Costello is the real author of "Whip My Hair" because that is literally all she did for nearly an hour. The sweat was dripping, limbs were flailing and it was basically girl crush at first encounter. Me being the shy ballsy one I am, I ran into her front row of Allen Stone and said, "Hey!!! You're the sweaty girl from Sunset with the voice like an angel!!!" and a friendship was born.

She puts the "pretty" in Pretty Broken Things
(Photo by John Vicory)

Now that I have YOU falling for Katie Costello, you need to get to know Pretty Broken Things. You need to know them and like them (via FB) and spread that symphonic goodness. Because it's good for your ears and especially your soul. When Katie informed this this morning that their first release was up on FB, I quite literally squealed out loud. Our Story is heartwrenching in the best way possible. The vocals, the harmonies, the strings...they transport you and just make your heart feel full. And the only thing that could possibly top a single release is an upcoming show! Gasp! It's this Friday at Interbay's own, Q cafe. Come at 8, bring $8 and continue to live your life with no regrets.



























listen here

like here

show your face here

and spread the LOVE

the honeymooners

so my parents are funny. i went home two weeks ago to visit them and was promptly informed they were leaving the following day for a 10 day extravaganza to glacier national park and canada. ehhhhhh? i immediately started calling them the honeymooners and watched robb barnes build a raised wood platform in the back of the truck for them to sleep on. obvi it was for easily accesible storage underneath and sleeping purposes on top made respledent by two layers of foam pads. natch, i wish i would have taken a picture of this mcgyver-like creation on my dad's part. i did not BUT returned home again this past weekend for a full report from the hooneymooners.

since my little mother is an earth science teacher, i get an annual earful on the perseid meteor shower. this friday night happened to be THE NIGHT for it to hit and we cozied up on the deck on a full-sized air mattress, under a sleeping bag likely riddled with asbestos and reeking of hickory chips, to watch the cosmic show. after we whined long enough for our personal heater, robb barnes joined us and shared the following story.

note: please don't forward this blog post to the canadian government or u.s. border patrol. i'm pretty sure that if robb barnes were the male in this story, he would get arrested SO i will be using pseudonyms.

these two people, let's call them "roberto" and "nay" went to glacier national park. since part of this natural wonder spills over into our neighbor to the north, roberto and nay decided to spend all of 2 hours in canada. in order to do so, border patrol needs to be reckoned with. hilariously, anytime roberto leaves home, he is most assuredly packing heat. in most hunting circles, this translates to carrying a loaded gun. in barnes family circles, it means roberto carries a loaded gun in a black fanny pack, pick-up truck or in a holster sewn into an under armor shirt. i kid you not. natch, roberto and nay need to DITCH THE FIREARM before crossing the border. according to roberto: "i had to bury my gun on a blackfoot indian reservation on american soil before going into canada". you read right folks. roberto buried a firearm on sacred native american lands for two hours. upon their arrival back in the old US of A, roberto and nay returned to dig up the gun. surprisingly, there were now two people sitting in lawn chairs, facing Chief Mountain, playing the flute in homage to the sacred land. nay was then called upon by her sidekick to distract the holy flute players while roberto dug up his gun.

is this not the stuff movies and SNL shorts are made of?

to cap off our family affair, renay tried to be romantic and robb barnes shut her down.

renay: (while looking at the meteor shower) isn't this just like looking at the ocean?

robb: uh no. it's like looking at the sky.

kt: way to try and be romantic mom.

this is why i love my family.

holy ghost

dear holy ghost,

hiiiiiiiiii. it's me. the one that's obsessed with you and is tumblin all your shit. i love your blog.

mmmkaybye,

kt

p.s. follow them on FB, twitter and tumblr and get gripped

p.p.s. feel free to peep my labor of love while you're at it

sisters

we met nearly six years ago and have seen it all at this point. life has come and gone but these girls have remained. family BBQ last night and ladies night tonight. YES YES YES.

my sisters are reunited and it feels so good.

mrs. elmo, andria, mrs. B, brynny, sarita & moi

my unreal paint skillz in action

TGS #1 gets married 

TGS #2 ties the knot!

Q graduates first! 

my girls 

dirty canada 

canada?

 fourth of july of old

shiny new SPU grads

eternal fair - the sunset & the comet

Ever gone to a movie by yourself? First time feels weird - like everyone is staring, wondering what the creeper with a kid's snack pack is doing alone on opening night of "Tangled". Take that feeling and magnify it by a million if you ever plan on going to a Seattle show alone. Amidst a sea of flannel-clad, heavily spectacled, chain smoking hipsters in tapered denim, the lone show-goer sticks out like a sore thumb. Enter: ME at the Eternal Fair show at Ballard's Sunset Tavern July 22nd. I was really hoping either A) Eternal Fair would go on first or B) the opening bands would be super quick so I could beat it out of there. Was the music that bad? No. But the dude sitting next to me at the bar was creeptastic. Picture with me a 40 year old man drinking cheaper booze than I was spending the entire time critiquing art and showing me 30+ pictures of crotch rockets on his Droid. THIRTY. Luckily, I'm a master of acting a dutiful listener yet hearing absolutely nothing. Did I mention this guy had a full-blown Kentucky Waterfall? You just don't see those outside of incestuous mining towns anymore these days, much less the Seattle bar scene.

I digress...

Alone. Eternal Fair Show. My saving grace of the night was some solid music with the faithful not at the Capitol Hill Block Party. Opening act "Boxcar Rebellion" left a lot to be desired that night. Their set lacked cohesion and I just wasn't digging the "mid-life crisis" vibe they were putting off. Aside from a couple decent face-melting guitar solos by lead singer Kathy Moore, all I really saw was a band of old people trying a little too hard. There you go - that was the first negative thing I've ever said in a music review! Had to happen at some point, right? Moving on...thank God Eternal Fair was on their game. Second up to bat, they undeniably brought the heat and got people on their feet at Sunset. Everyone from dirty hippies to soccer moms were shakin what their momma gave them on the floor. Like I mentioned before, lead singer Andrew Vait channels Emile Hirsch better than Emile Hirsch does and after the most excessive mic check I've ever witnessed, Andrew, Brent Rusinow and Daniel Nash hit the stage and I had an instant smile on my face. Long forgotten was my oddball bar neighbor as some MGMT-esque strains hit my ears. I kept mentally noting how incredible of a musican Andrew is - he never fails to disappoint, this time flawlessly switching between the guitar and keys. Though each song had it's own unique identity, the entire set was bound together by Vait's Muse-like vocals, Rusinow's fuzzy bass and some solid beats on Nash's part. After a show like that, I almost forgot about headliner M. Bison, who wrapped up the show with a set eerily reminscent of Animal Collective. I listened to a few of their songs but was soon overwhelmed by a slew of Spokane visitors, Fireball whiskey and the urge to get far, far away from stanky hippies in motion.

courtesy of Eternal Fair

Hands down, Eternal Fair is coming into their own and getting better every damn time. Lucky for Seattleites, your latest opportunity to let them cast a spell on you is this Friday at Capitol Hill's Comet Tavern (9 pm, $7 cover) with American Girls and Portland's own, John Craig + The Weekend. Just don't go alone...you may end up peeping rare mullets and pictures of motorcycles.

the bonfires

after finding TWO gray hairs this weekend (TWO!), i really needed something good in my life. enter: the bonfires, an unsigned band of lifelong friends from london who i'm batshit crazy about. my first taste of them was "same heart" and i got the same feeling one gets when locking eyes with the love of their life. since they've got nothing on iTunes, soundcloud will have to do for now but play the hell out of them and spread the word.

tumblr

expanded the nw is best love to tumblr. stop on by and stay awhile.

Krazy Dayz

Typically, going home to Dallas, Oregon never ceases to provide insta-fodder for NW is Best. Better yet, if I'm lucky enough to make it home for the annual Krazy Dayz/Summerfest weekend, shit goes DOWNNNNN. Someone asked me the point of this annual summer celebration and I literally couldn't answer. It's basically just a chance for every Dallasite to let their freak flag fly for a whole 48 hours. And fly they did - Saturday's parade was a flurry of exposed bellies, Shriner's, mini ponies, the France School of Dance, baby holding and shielding my face from old classmates on Main Street. Before I launch into the weekend glory, I've got to give big ups to my darling BFF and grandma extraordinaire, Matie AKA Mater Bates, Girlfriend, Poopy Grandma, etc. That's MATIE - rhymes with KT and also, when paired with "Arrrrghhhh!", is a typical pirate greeting. She is a total doll and has faithfully worked at the Main Street hardware/gift shop since Lady Gaga was in diapers, saving me a front row seat each year for the illustrious freak parade. I hope my forthcoming account doesn't make me sound high-and-mighty...trust me, I used to cruise in this thang EVERY year. One year I was dressed as Dorothy with Rem as the Tin Man, both wearing rainbow wigs and clown face paint while our BFF's rode bikes pulling their cats in a fake circus cage. Another year I was strapped to the back of my dad's SEPTIC TRUCK throwing tootsie rolls...oh my GAWD. And yet another year I fell off of a church float and almost got ran over. Twice. GOOD TIMES PEOPLE.



A brief history lesson here - "Summer Fest" is known to Dallas' Original Gangsters as Krazy Dayz. Not sure what ole' dummy ever thought to change it's awesome name. Maybe it has something to do with this guy (at right) who goes by the ubiquitous alias' of Wind Walker, Leaning Larry, Laid Back Lenny, etc. Pretty sure this dude's real name is John Something-Or-Other. He went to high school with Robb Barnes and apparently sizzled his brain with tasty drugs. He now can be seen all over Dallas with his trademark walk - tilted backwards at ~ 45 degrees. To keep things stylish, Wind Walker usually carries his backpack on his chest as well and as been seen numerous times picking up cigarette butts from the sidewalk and saving them for later. Tastyyyyyyy. So maybe the name change has to do with Krazy Dayz offending our local color, I can't really be sure. Maybe worth writing to the Chamber of Commerce about now that I think of it...

Saturday, I woke bright and early, around 9.30, all abuzz with excitement about the day's festivities - parade, bike riding and backyard tanning. As I was throwing on my parade uniform of mismatched tops and cut-offs, my wondering eyes beheld a voicemail notification. Enter Drew Hundley and Patrick Mount - two very hilarious, very single Air Force helicopter pilots. Fun fact: Drew's vocal twin is none other than Kenny Powers. These perfect strangers stayed with me for 4 days last weekend and are now in the Inner Circle of Friendship. They also left me the longest, most ludicrous voicemail I've ever received early Saturday morning. Not only did I listen to it 6-9 times, but also transcribed it for your reading pleasure. Blanks mean I really couldn't make out their slurred speech but feel free to insert whatever you wish...

"Listen, here's the deal. You, me, a ___ in ___'s mouth, a Flemish peasant woman, whips, chains, whistles, yo-yos and a pack of everlasting gobstoppers and some 100 mph tape, golf tees, chicken con carne, and some 5 lb bags of ice - obviously 3 because any more would not make any sense....But anyway this is Drew and Pat and we were just calling to say 'hello' and we're very upset. Obviously you're in uh, Losertown, Oregon at this juncture and we are drunk. We almost got arrested tonight because of one of our friends, so that's neither here nor there so we were calling to say we heart you but we're also calling to say you are the heart of our team and we miss you and we're gonna miss you forever. So call us tomorrow and leave us a drunk voicemail. And we will miss you forever and always or as the Chinese say, "Ching chow Wang Chong doo we". Okay welp talk to you later"

Try to tell me that's not dumbest yet funniest thing you've ever read. Just try. That really set the positive tone for my day as I headed out the door with my adorbs mother who complained that our parking spot, a whopping 3 blocks away from the parade route was, "so far away". Approaching Main Street, my heart was pitter-pattering. This is the town I love more than anywhere else. This is where I'm a legend in my own mind and Krazy Dayz is the one time a year where everyone can be a celeb. On the way to the market to pick up cheese and Chex Mix mom goes, "Why do people wear weird things in their hair at things like this?! Have people lost all sense of dignity??" Well, this is Dallas so yes mom, they have. Next I popped over to the Antique Mall to hobnob with my gorgeous ex-babysitter, Micah. And by ex-babysitter I literally mean she was my babysitter growing up. She dated the ticket-taker from the movie theater once upon a time and taught me how to swim. Now she lives near me in Seattle and I babysit her cherubs - we've come full circle folks. As I was holding Baby #1 of the weekend, I had a delightful exchange with a crusty old lady on oxygen who i was standing near and slightly blocking her northern vision of the route.

Lady: I can't see a THING (as the parade is still half a mile away...)
Me: Um...you know, you could just ask me to move. That would be WAY more polite.
Lady: Well, are you gonna move or what?
Me: Don't you worry (muttered expletive under breath

Didn't let ole' Thundercloud McGee ruin my morning though. I dashed off to the front lines with the parentals just in time to watch the Chamber of Commerce Director ride by dressed like a mermaid on a pirate ship. Hey, I never claimed Krazy Dayz was classy. Unfortunately this was the first year I can remember that the Color Guard didn't start off the parade - big no-no in my book and the Itemizer Observer can expect a Letter to the Editor from me shortly. What followed was no less than 20 church floats sporting slogans like, "God's grace under the sea" (what does that even mean?) with 15+ youth stuffed on there singing 90's praise and worship songs, the France School of Dance doing the exact same parade dance they've done for 20+ years, an entirely green pony who walked by to murmurs of "animal cruelty" and "who would do that?", a miniscule group of Shriner's sans the paraplegic doll with a crutch usually propped on one of their rooftops, and about 100 mini ponies pooping all over the place. It was really hard to narrow down my top 3 crazy sightings but it seems to have come down to these winners:

And with that, my beautiful parade was over. From there we grabbed lunch, held some more beautiful babies (Dallas is definitely riding a baby boom of late) and it was homeward for some backyard tanning - the kind where you don't want your dad to come out in the yard, if you know what I mean. Naturally the ONE TIME I do this is the ONE WEEKEND they're giving helicopter tours over our farm. Sweeeeeeeeet. The helo started out flying over the far edge of our property and then steadily progressed to directly over my yard. Coincidence? I think not. You're welcome people of Dallas with $30 to spare and an eye for the divine. That evening the dogs and I played, harassed the chickens and mom and I resurrected our biker gang Hellz Angelzzzzz and thugged it up around town on 2 wheels. We ultimately ended up crashing my uncle's 30 year reunion at the bar. I could have sat there and people watched all day but I was slightly underdressed and the promise of s'mores at home was calling my name. Around the firepit we tried to roast flat s'more mallows (dumbest invention ever) with sticks that were WAY too short. Luckily Robb Barnes is a MacGyver of sorts and duct taped a roaster to a long stick and we were good to go. That's until I got called "disrespectful" for trying to shove a dirty marshmallow down my germophobic mother's throat and the party prompty ended. Somebody needs to learn how to have a good time...