Category Archives: blurgh

Dive Bar Memories: why I’ll miss The Canterbury when it closes

Canterbury Pirate

DRINK MORE! YARRRR

There have been rumors for a while, but last month, the Capitol Hill Seattle Blog posted that The Canterbury would be closing at the end of the year for SURE. *sob*

After living for over 10 years in a horrifyingly depressing apartment just south of Everett (where my car got stolen not once, but twice), my roommate and I made a pact to save money and get ourselves the hell out of the ‘burbs and back into the city. Because OHMYGOD THE CITY. We lucked out and found a cheap’ish apartment on 19th & Roy, which just happened to be the perfect stumbling distance from The Canterbury on 15th.

It didn’t take long before The Canterbury was my home as much as my apartment was.  Sticky, dark, and (loosely) Medieval-themed with mismatched chairs and tables, it was the perfect place to drink yourself silly, soak up the booze with a greasy cheeseburger and a giant plate of fries—and then start all over again. For the five years that I lived in that apartment, it was where I planted myself at least 2-3 times a week. Continue reading

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Why theme parks are wonderful and awful

My name is Amie. I am 41 years old, I don’t have kids, and I still LOVE to go to theme parks.

My grandparents used to live in Southern CA, and I visited them pretty much every other summer, so that meant I got a trip up to the magical happiest place on earth almost every time I went to see them. And also Universal Studios, SeaWorld (which makes me too sad now), and Knott’s Berry Farm.

Because of this, going to theme parks as an adult makes sense to me. They are wonderful! But they can be really awful too—depending on a variety of things, and the type of people who happen to be there when you are. I happened to be there recently, and loved-hated it, like usual.

 The awful
Sometimes, people are dicks. People are especially dicks when it’s 90+ degrees, because Disneyland doesn’t have much shade, and they don’t have those awesome misting cool down stations like Universal Studios has. And people are even bigger dicks when they want their kids to get on rides before adults, and complain loudly about it when they’re behind you in line.

I get it—you’re spending upwards of $80 per kid, per day, per park. That would make ANYONE crabby, not to mention the $200 you shelled out to dress your daughter up like a princess, $100 for food and drink, another couple $100 for toys, souvenirs, hats, etc. It costs a lot of fucking money to go to Disneyland, and I appreciate that you’re stressed about it, and then get pissed when your kid doesn’t want to wait in a 2-hour line to sail through the wondrous world of Peter Pan. But hey! I’m here to enjoy it too. I really am. I’m not here just to jam up your day, man. Continue reading


39 notes from 23 years ago

From 17-year-old me to my 16-year-old boyfriend.

For reasons I cannot fathom, my boyfriend from 1989-90 held onto the many “love notes” I wrote him. After reading through them, it is INCREDIBLE to me that he kept all of these for over 23 years. Because THEY ARE TERRIBLE.

And I don’t mean terrible in a “I could totally read these at Salon of Shame” kind of way. There’s no bad poetry, and definitely not enough sappy confessions of teenage romance to be entertaining. They are all utterly mundane. Most of the time, they are just records of what my friends and I are doing while we hang out. Which was to primarily drink and smoke, and watch a lot of TV, apparently.

There are 39 of these notes—a little piece of history from a time when I was still so insecure and emotionally crippled that it’s completely strange to read them and remember what I was like back then. Continue reading


Men Who Hate Women

Too bad I didn’t have this WW crown when I was working there. I could have summoned my inner Amazonian and kicked his ASS!

{Apologies to Stieg Larsson for borrowing his original book title}

I’ve had my mind on comics and comic book stores a lot lately, and so I’ve been thinking about the BEST job I ever had, ever. But because of one guy, it was also one of the most horrible workplace environments, ever.

In the mid-90s, I took a second job at a comic book/collectibles store to make extra money, and to try to forget about how bad my once-awesome-but-now-terribly-corporate video store job had gotten. I used to buy my comics there, and had discussed my rampant Clive Barker obsession with the owner several times, as he always seemed to have several signed books, figurines, etc. (as I found out later, he was good friends with Clive! SCORE). So, when I mentioned that I was looking for something part-time, he thought it would be awesome to have a chick working there who knew her stuff. It was a quick hire. I don’t even remember an interview, really. I had become so chummy with most of the staff that they already knew and liked me.

All of them I guess, except one.

For the purposes of this story, I will just call him “Dick.” It seems appropriate.

Dick had relocated to the fair city of Lynnwood from some small town in the mid-West, and as I came to find out, hated women. Not just a little, a lot. Or maybe it was just me? I guess I never quite figured it out. In any case, Dick was polite and accommodating when other employees or the manager/owner was around, but as soon as we were the only two in the store, he would have me do the most insane things, backed up with the excuse that “the owner” wanted it done. Continue reading


Stumbling onto past ghosts

I look stoned here, but I assure you it was just the 90s.

Oh man. I came across some tucked away my wedding photos the other day and I all I could think of was how IMPOSSIBLY young I look. How fucking naïve my face is, and how miserable I know I was that day. And then, immediately following that, how I wish I could go back and tell that Amie not to do it. To skip out before we went through with it. To leave when my mom asked me if I wanted to back out.

Anything. Everything. To stop me from taking that leap. But, I did it. I went through with the traditional vows and had my first dance and watched all my friends and family be merry and get drunk and congratulate us.

Your past is part of makes you who you are. But I think it’s REALLY important to recognize that it doesn’t need to define you for the rest of your life.

Did I make a mistake marrying that guy? Probably. Did I know it at the time? I think I recognized on the honeymoon that it probably wasn’t the brightest idea I had, and I know for sure I stayed with him wayyyy longer than I should have because I didn’t want to branded a “failure”, but honestly, on that day? I convinced myself that I thought I was doing the right thing. Continue reading


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