From the bottom of my black heart

So, you may be used to me saying this, but I really like nudity. And living in Portland delivers on that. We famously have the highest number of strip clubs per capita in the US, a massive naked bike ride, and first amendment protection. But my latest adventure kept some clothes on. Even, to a certain extent, my own.

I went to my first burlesque show years ago, not at all sure what to expect. A seedy, poorly-lit dive bar with girls dancing in a creepy circle of creepy men wasn't a good first impression. The cheering was just as awkward and unpleasant as the silences.

My next show was much more upscale, there was even a stage! It was entirely geek-themed with video game cosplays and music that mixed difficult-level nostalgia with teenager angst. Then the clothing came off and Rule 34 was brought to life. I knew I'd found something worth following.

Since then, I've been to many shows, in different venues, with various themes. Portland has a true circuit that I've begun to tune into. Many of these performers are also part of Naked Girls Reading. I've come to enjoy the acts, getting to know the folks behind them bit by bit. But I've always felt that there was something lacking, that burlesque could be something bigger.

When I found out that the Suicide Girls were bringing a burlesque show to town, I knew I had to see it and that it was going to impress me.

The Suicide Girls got their start in Portland and I knew several of the early members by way of my job. I worked the graveyard shift at Plaid Pantry on the corner of Grand and Burnside, a black hole that sucked in ass holes each night like an airplane toilet. However, there were some jewels in the mix: strippers from the local clubs who were cute, smart, and talented. I never saw them naked until they told me about their web site. What can I say? I was a fan instantly.

The show was at the venerable Roseland Theater, where, in the past, I'd seen Weird Al among others. We arrived a little late, which meant the best seats were taken, a blessing in disguise. We managed to snag a spot in the second row, directly in front of the speakers. As the show got started though, we were invited to stand at the stage. Being so close, and willing to give up my seat, I immediately took advantage and was greatly spoiled as a reward.

The dance routines were epic: well choreographed, sexy, rocking, and entirely nerd approved. Subject matter covered included Game of Thrones, Dr Who, and Planet of the Apes. When one of the girls did Chell from Portal, she made a huge mess with a (cup)cake, that included her rubbing frosting down my face. It was delicious and moist.

The highlight of the night for me, if not for everyone else, was when they made a call for volunteers. They wanted three people who were willing to take off their clothes. I was right there at the stage and willing. I hoped up. The MC said, "Oh, you're just a self selector." Yes, yes I am. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. Two other girls joined me, the second was also a self started like me, and the last was picked from the crowd. Then the music started and the clothes came flying off. A winner was declared when boobs were liberated, and unfortunately mine did not count. I did get a prize though: a free year subscription to the website.

The show was everything I could have hoped it to be and I would greatly enjoy seeing more of this in Portland, brought to us by the Suicide Girls or anyone else willing to step up their game.

P.S. Boba Fett wins my (black)heart (and picture taking was encouraged!)

Not waffling on gifting

So, when two threads of a conversation converge into one amazing idea, you know you're doing something right.

It all started when we crashed a birthday party by accident. Which, by the way, is a great way of making new friends.

The first thread involved carrying large, bulky objects and the total lack of convenience that they often have in their size, shape, and materials. One example presented: a waffle iron.

We also discussed the finer points of riding the Max light rail for extended periods. With long commutes, it is common to spend most of the time avoiding eye contact by burying our face in the four inch world of our phones. And what would be the worst fate imaginable on such a trip? That's right, your battery dying. Then you might actually have to talk to someone who is in the same space as you.

But what if there were outlets on the train that you could plug your device into, keeping it healthy for the rest of the day? Of course, such practical things could never become a reality. Often what stands in the way of progress is a large group of people trying to make a joint decision. But in this case it's really a question of abuse. You know everyone will bring their TV's, mini-fridges, portable AC's, and other appliances then spend all day on the train.

This is where things took a sudden turn. A waffle iron is another appliance. Wouldn't it be great to cook waffles on the Max?

"Well, you know," my wife interjects. "There are outlets under those towers that have the train schedules at the Max stops."

Wait! What?

WE CAN MAKE WAFFLES AT THE MAX STOP?!

We had to do this.

Plans were made to meet at a likely station downtown within the week. We went to Costco and purchased bulk waffle mix. We stirred up huge batches and headed downtown.

Disappointment greeted us immediately. There was no power in those outlets where we planned to set up shop. Luck was on our side, however, when it was discovered there was a live outlet in front of an adjacent and empty building. We plugged in and got to baking... Frying? Ironing.

Cooking up a tall stack, I'd take the fruits of our toil to Max trains as they arrived, offering our fresh, hot  treats to any who wanted one. This lead to looks of indifference and distrust, but also smiles and some that would actually accept! I would run onto a train as soon as the doors opened, sprint down the aisle holding out the goods between two paper towels making my call "Waffle? Waffle? Waffle?", then jump out as the doors were closing again.

Those who caught our stand on the sidewalk could not only get the waffle fresh off the press, they could claim some of the toppings that we'd brought along: maple syrup, whipped cream, strawberries, and bananas.

We called to the masses. We made signs. We walked up and down the streets to give the things away. Many a homeless person and street kid got a special treat that day. One person told us we were the most amazing thing he'd seen all week. Just one week? We weren't trying hard enough. Another person asked, "Why waffles?" I could only answer, "Because pancakes would be crazy."

In the end, we'd had a great deal of fun and made the day of an untold number of commuters. We've vowed to do it again and to apply some of the ideas and solutions we'd encountered along the way.

Will Zed for movies

So, two advantages of living near a city is that you can often get things for free and have access to unique opportunities. One such item where these come together is a press screening. This is when a movie is shown before its release, giving critics a chance to see it and pen a review by opening day. There are few reporters, so the theater, production company, and news papers offer passes to fill the empty seats. I am a huge fan of movies and I especially love seeing them in the theater. Thus, when I can go without paying astronomical ticket prices, I am well pleased. Doubly so when I can do it before the general public.

I've taken advantage of these promotions a number of times. Over the years I've seen some real winners (Shrek) and losers (Red Tails) and everything in-between. I saw a very early, unfinished edit of The Italian Job and very recently watched the first audience screening of a documentary (which I can't tell you about because I had to sign an NDA, but they bought my silence with gift certificates to see any other movie).

I've never had a screening like this adventure.

Recently, I was in the Portland Star Light Parade with Portland Zombie Walk. Well, our little group got the attention of a representative from Paramount studios. They wanted a small hoard of zombies present for the World War Z premiere. We leaped at the chance.

What Paramount wanted from us was rather vague, something about pictures and promotional materials. No sweat, folks love my zombie persona and always want to be in a photo with me. And I'm a huge fan of swag (most of my shirts were free). In return, we'd get reserved seating.

Our little undead herd gathered at the theater, including a couple of Disney Princesses and others with rather grotesque makeup. There were even some folks not affiliated with us madeup as zombies.

The guy from Paramount had us do promo shots holding movies posters that we then handed out to the those in line. We posed for pics with movie goers and mall patrons. Or simply stood around looking creepy and occasionally sneaking up on people, giving one or two a real scare. When we ran into a lull, we'd break out into Thriller.

Someone came up and told me that I was their favorite zombie!

After the movie, we took more pictures with folks connected to the studio and any who wanted to play around. And as a final thank you, we were all given deluxe branded 3-D glasses. A couple from our crew even got mini branded first-aid kits (not me, sadly).

In the end, I'd had fantastic fun with friends, saw an intense movie, and walked away with all my limbs intact.

Read to me

So, I love books. Like, far beyond my ability to read them. I have a huge library that is filled with equal parts those I've read and book intentions. I'm a slow reader that spends a great deal of my free time in social pursuits and a large range of hobbies. Finishing a novel within a month seems like a pretty good feat at this point.

But that doesn't prevent me from becoming excited when an author comes to town. It means one more book to buy, but I promise it's the next one I'll read. On the plus side I'll also get it autographed. Maybe a photo op, exchange some banter, and get some insight. The best part, though, is the reading.

There is a certain magic to reading a book, when you've sequestered yourself away from this world and enter into another. On the other hand, there is something far more special in being read to. I read most nights to William from many of my favorites: J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, and H. G. Wells to name but a few. It is a great chance to bond and geek out together.

And I really like to be read to as well. As you may imagine, by naked women is one of my favorites (which we just visited one again for satire and parody. And yes, I may reference this quite often). Other times I greatly enjoy hearing these works straight from the horses mouth.

One of the greatest things about Powell's Books stores is that they constantly have visiting authors and events. Here are some of the more memorable.

Chuck chucks a moose at me.

The first time I went to a Chuck Palahniuk reading, it was for his Portland guide book, and he taught me about Santa. The third time I saw him talk about the devil and romance. But it was the second time that was the most remarkable  As usual, he read an original short story for the tour. But before this he was asking quiz questions from his novels. Up to this point, I had only read one or two, so I wasn't up on this knowledge. Joy and I had taken up seats in the upper balcony area, but she sent me down to where everyone else was getting prizes. I stood in the aisle at the back when Chuck asked a question from Lullaby, a book I had recently finished. I enthusiastically raised my hand and jumped around like I had just been called down to join the Price is Right. I was picked, gave the correct answer, and ran up to collect my prize: an inflatable "moose" head, signed by and filled with the spittle of Mr. Palahniuk. The thing used to hang on my wall, a crazy conversation piece, but these days it just hides in the closet, waiting for a man cave to hang around in once again.

There have been several readings that I've gone to where I didn't really know much about the author, I was just familiar with some of their works, or those separated by a single degree. Such was the case with Eoin Colfer. I'd heard about the Artemis Fowl series, but never read any. But he was designated by the Douglas Adams estate to write a final chapter (the 6th in the trilogy) of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. I was handed a raffle ticket on arrival, which doubled as a line number for signing. Eoin turned out to be a very funny guy to listen to as he explained how he got to write this book and it made me quite excited to get to reading it. Then the raffle began. The first prize was a gift certificate to Powell's, which I didn't win. But I did get second place: the poster board of the book's cover. Way better that the first place win, as mine was unique (as far as anyone else there was concerned, no one else in my city is going to have one of these bad boys). The raffle prizes also came with a little "DON'T PANIC" hand towel and a book, the Guide to the Guide (which summarized the other books up until this release. I had Eoin sign everything but the towel).

I've also been to a fair number reading for Star Wars books. I'm not really a fan of the Expanded Universe, but the ideas still intrigue and excite. I was present for Star Wars books about zombies, planet crushers, and Ocean's 11. I was also there for the 30th anniversary, where there was a panel of authors from across the years discussing how the books have evolved in that time. Each of these events tends to draw out our local cosplay army.

Anybody else also attend such readings? Did your parents read bed time stories and give you long lasting, fond memories? Tell me about it in the comments below.

When predictions go right and wrong

So, I had this little revelation: All conventions are for Geeks. And I don't mean anything bad by that, as I proudly wear my geekdom on my sleeve. I just mean that it takes a lot of interest and dedication to supply enough related material to pull together a large group and make them pay for the opportunity to buy stuff.

Many people probably think of the classic geekery when it comes to conventions: anime, comics, video games. But there are also conventions for guns and porn. And while sports fans may be hesitant to admit it, they can be complete geeks too. Especially those who play fantasy leagues and attend its conventions. All those stats, men in armor, women in slinky outfits. Face it boys, it's just Dungeons and Dragons for jocks.

But recently I had an opportunity to attend a convention of a whole other type of geekishness, one which I turned away from in my youth. Once upon a time, I consumed books on numerology, burned incense for more than just the smell, and studied "real" magic. I was trying to fill the void more mainstream religion had not. Unfortunately, I eventually found the occult to be just as hollow.

But... I was tempted back by free tickets.

It was called the Body Mind Spirit Expo.

At first glance I saw this merely as an opportunity to snicker softly with my wife as we checked out booths dedicated to dream interpretation and aura therapy. A chance to mock New Age mumbo jumbo.

Sadly, I was mostly proven right.

Upon entering, we were given a special cleansing: a free Luna Fiber bar. Nice. But is it life changing? Well, for some it could be. Joy didn't like her's, so I ate them both. Are they strong enough for a man?

The first booth we approach offered to magically melt away cellulite. I don't know the name of the product or brand, but the handy coupon doubled as a fan.

Next up was a variety of drinks. The first was a Red Bull-sized can meant for relaxation. Lanilai, we learned, contains no melatonin. This is good because if you consume too much artificially, your body will stop producing it naturally and then you will become impotent. To quote their web site: "The most simplest description of LANILAI Relaxation Drink is a delicious calming ice tea best serve chilled!" They also had beverages with the fastest way to make your face implode: made with pure ginger, mint, and grapefruit.

While stereotypes based on race, religion, sex, and/or age may be misplaced, this isn't necessarily true of geek cultures. I knew we would eventually run across a large assortment of crystals. When we did, I can honestly say I was surprised by some of what we found. Many were in the shape of blades and others in the shape of "magic wands". I guess you need a backup plan if the psychic based dating service falls through.

The winner of the best book award goes to "How to spot a bastard by his star sign" by Adele Lang. We read through my profile (I'm an Aries) and it's mostly untrue. I swear.

And plenty of bath salts were offered. But these would make you a different kind of zombie, depending on which "flavor" you selected. Expecting your bath product to grant you happiness or make you more appealing to the opposite sex is a waiting game that can zone you out from the rest of society.

The real gem of the show was a seminar about names. I wanted to know more about how we choose our names before we were born, but came away with a new revelation. Our names are important, they are part of a label that helps separate us from others. Not in a negative context, but in one that grants more respect upon you (sets you apart as an individual) and responsibility upon others (they must learn and remember your name). While how you say something is often just as important as what is said, there is a tone that comes with the letters used in your name. I always talk about how angry the German language sounds. Say "I love you" in German and you seem pissed off. If your name has Germanic roots, anyone who calls it may sound angry. Which could prove stressful. And while I may not believe we choose our names before we are born physically, we can certainly choose our names when we are born into new life stages. When we start our career, we can tell our co-workers what name to call us by, thus helping to direct our destiny.