DUMP: The Alternative to EMP

ATTN: Events Calendar

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Press contact: Donna (buzz apartment #506)

On June 23rd, after the Experience Music Project turns off the lights and the last soccer mom drives her family-packed SUV back to Bellevue, the REAL fun begins. Donna (that's me!) Inc. presents: Donna's Underground Music Project, the REAL museum of Northwest music for REAL music lovers. It's located near the beautiful Broadway strip and housed inside units #506 and #507 of my apartment building! (WARNING: The elevator only holds one person at a time, and beware of the platinum blond-dyed cat with red eyes; Sketchy has rabies.) Project highlights include:

Designed by Locally Renowned Architect: Often called "the Frank Gehry of lower Capitol Hill," George McMurphy designed the Alaskan Way Viaduct, the men's rest rooms in Volunteer Park, and now his most talked-about—and recently condemned—project: DUMP. Currently sculpting women's correctional facilities outside Everett, the curmudgeonly designer commented on his art over a few fuzzy navels at Thumpers: "I tried to give DUMP a utilitarian feel. Who needs those fancy-schmancy curves and wild colors? And what's with this titanium crap? Like I always say, if the toilet works, everything else will fall into place."

Interactive Listening Room: One of my boom box's speakers is out, but that won't prevent you from hearing state-of-the-art tape cassettes (Maxell or bust) featuring the best of the Northwest's musicians: Nirvana's Bleach and The Accused's . . . I forget which album. (NOTE: If I can scrounge up the dough to unimpound my Pinto, I've got more tapes in my glove compartment.) Oh, the interactive part: You flip the tape over.

I Want My MTV Video Salon: Right now, I get KING-5 and a Spanish channel, but I just started dating a guy who works for Viacom.

The Blind-Drunk Interpretive Space: You've got no clue what it's like trying to find your car keys backstage after downing a bottle of JD, playing a long gig at the Croc, and a stage dive gone bad—until you close your eyes and stick your hand in my bathtub. Is that record industry caviar, the opening band's sweaty underwear, a brand-new box of guitar picks, or your alkie manager's puke?

Nancy Wilson Mural (by Donna): You'd be amazed what four hits of LSD, a $1.99 watercolor set, and a formerly cream-colored wall can do for the Heart guitarist/ vocalist.

Grunge Groupies VD Polaroid Gallery: One night with a groupie can lead to both the Big "O" and the Big "Ouch!" Match the VD strain (gonorrhea, syphilis, herpes, crabs, etc.) with its "head"-shot and you win a pack of ribbed Trojans.

Needle in the Haystack Jonesing Hole: Think smack is cool? Think again when you crouch in my pitch-black closet, where you're stuck until you find the needle and spoon among an assortment of razor blades, rusty nails, and cockroaches. Winner gets bus fare to the methadone clinic.

Knowledgeable Tour Guide: Take it from a babe who's been there, the rock 'n' roll lifestyle AIN'T easy! I go-go danced for Fuzzducky and played synthesizer for Morning Mold before I hit it big (in Kitsap County) as the accordionist for Bigfoot's Sister, the band The Rocket called ". . . a cross between Sleater-Kinney, Queensryche, a crack fiend in withdrawal, and a broken amp." But I can tell you even more.

Autographed Celebrity Memorabilia: Local rock demi-gods sign collectibles tainted with their greatness. Featured items include a flat tire from the Murder City Devils' tour van, Kim Warner of the Fastbacks' lipstick-kissed Vivace espresso cup, the Vogue's Johnny Whitney's childhood A-Team lunch box, mascara-smeared Kleenex from the Makers' dressing room, The Catheters' Hollywood Video membership cards, Heather Duby's broken umbrella, a discarded coupon book addressed to Krist Novoselic, a Taco Time bag that held Deathcab for Cutie's BRC burritos, Chris Cornell's Safeway receipt, and Sally Johnson of Faster Tiger's personal copy of Seattle Weekly.

Gift Shop: Choose from an array of food stamps good at selected liquor stores, crayon drawings of Eddie Vedder, black hair dye, Bettie Page wigs, Second Day Hair lifted from Vain, bona fide Isaac Brock cigarette butts, no longer sticky Sub Pop bumper stickers, a not-that-soggy Allure magazine featuring Courtney Love, leather and denim jackets swiped at Chicken Soup Brigade, a Sir Mix-A-Lot Play-Doh figure, and assorted snacks from Dick's, Jack-in-the-Box, Fred Meyer, and the dumpster outside Broadway Grill.

Admission Price: EMP charges $20 for CORPORATE CRAP, so I'm charging $50 for THE GENUINE THING. Cash, Visa, MC, checks, stock options graciously accepted. Jose Cuervo, Crazy Horse, Diet Coke, roach spray, and Kool cigarettes (menthol only) donations encouraged.

Hours: 24-7. You got the money, I got the time.

No cops or AA/NA counselors PLEASE.

 
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