Reason 279

Bumbershoot. Every year for the past forty years people from all over the area (and maybe even the country) have converged upon the Seattle Center (yep, where that bizarre Space Needle resides) for a three-day festival of music, comedy, literature and art. It's an apt name considering folks think my hometown sees a lot of precipitation. Ironically, almost nobody around here uses actual bumbershoots, which is slang for umbrellas. But I digress. The humongous event happened over Labor Day weekend with an eclectic lineup of musical acts ranging from zydeco to hip hop and spoken word to yodeling, and headliners included Courtney Love (who apparently played sober), Bob Dylan (everyone's favorite mumbler), and Weezer, a band that elevates nerdy hipness to a whole new level. I've chosen to skip the overpriced and overcrowded shindig the past few years because throngs of slightly drunk and sweaty people pretty much make me cringe, but if you really wanted to experience the mother of all music festivals, Jason, I think I could stomach an afternoon of subpar food, uncomfortable seats, and questionably dressed teenagers if it would make you happy. I'd even understand it if you wanted to buy a pair of sparkly fairy wings, down a couple of beers and join the drum circle that inevitably commandeers the south lawn each year. Just like Las vegas, what happens at Bumbershoot, stays at Bumbershoot (unless the press catches it on camera, of course). The organizers won't release next year's lineup until the spring, but when that day comes just give me a ring if a band or two catches your eye. I can only imagine the overwhelming joy and excitement I'll feel if the event planners finally realize they missed the NKOTB boat twenty years ago and book my favorite boys from Boston to play a set. I've been waiting ages for an excuse to throw on some neon leg warmers and rat my bangs up a foot off my forehead.