The Stranger

Car commuters are quick to identify the turds of the cycling community—cyclists riding fixies without helmets as if daring gravity and cars alike to bitch-slap them, cyclists riding three abreast, slowly, to taunt traffic. Why not go meet all the nonturdish, responsible cyclists at the Seattle Bike Expo? Hell, become one: Buy a bike. Get your bike fitted by a professional. Figure out the gear you need to become a commuter. Join a cycling club. Buy some antichafe cream. Find good riding routes in your neighborhood. Make the city better. (Smith Cove Cruise Terminal 91, 2001 W Garfield St, www.cascade.org. 10 am–4 pm, $10 adults/kids free.) by Cienna Madrid

Link  |  Post Comment (3)

Poster artist C. M. Ruiz's style is an instantly recognizable mix of punk photocopier high jinks and psychedelic scribbling. For his first solo show, he's built a shrine to DIY artistry. A bisected house holds a Fisher Price record player; a smoke machine in a wooden cabinet creates the atmosphere of a pre-smoking-ban rock show. He's hung Xerox wallpaper, first wheat-pasted then stapled, peeling away to reveal newsprint underneath. Over that are manipulated stock portraits, framed and freestanding—the family photos of a person whose closest kin lives on 7-inch record sleeves. (Design Commission, 310 S Washington St, 223-7709. 9 am–5 pm, free.) by Eric Grandy

Link  |  Post Comment (0)

The late Jay Steensma goes down in the books as a second-generation Morris Graves, and it's true that he painted brushy birds and faces and flowers on delicate papers. But really, his lesser-known visions are darker, stranger, and humbler than the Big Mystic's, and they can crawl right into your little heart; they just want some rest. By contrast, self-taught artist Ree Brown—a longtime friend of Steensma's—makes essentially happy paintings. They're bright, sweet, and contentedly imperfect. (Vermillion, 1508 11th Ave, 709-9797. 4–11 pm, free.) by Jen Graves

Link  |  Post Comment (1)

Celebrate St. Patrick's Day the way Paddy O'Irish (president of Ireland—look it up) does it in the old country: getting sloshed on green beer, watching live improv, and making fun of Leprechaun—the best movie ever about goblin gold, pogo-stick murder, and Jennifer Aniston's original nose. Local improv troupe Blood Squad delivers tight, clever, genre-skewering slasher movies on the fly. They'll perform 30 minutes of their inimitable craft (Irish-themed, natch), then turn the drunken audience loose on 92 minutes of murderous leprechaun. (Central Cinema, 1411 21st Ave, 686-6684. 10 pm, $7, 21+.) by Lindy West

Link  |  Post Comment (1)

America (or at least America's smarter, better-looking citizens) learned to adore Justin Bond as the bitter, alcoholic chanteuse of Kiki & Herb. When he came to the Triple Door last year, some doubters in the audience wondered whether they could love Bond solo as much as they loved Kiki. The lights dimmed, Bond strode onstage in a dress made from scraps of tranny porn, stared down the audience, and slowly sang in his rich, sinister, whiskey-and-tobacco voice: "They say it's the New Depression, so why am I filled with glee? Everybody's coming down quickly—now they can all join me." The doubters shuddered with pleasure and sighed with relief: Bond is, was, and always will be a genius. (Triple Door, 216 Union St, 838-4333. 8 pm, $22 adv/$25 DOS, all ages.) by Brendan Kiley

Link  |  Post Comment (1)

Freestyle motocross, or FMX, is already pretty nutty. It's a variation on regular motocross racing that shifts the focus away from speed and onto crazy stunts and jumps (think X Games and musician Pink's husband, rider Carey Hart, with his infamous motorcycle backflip). Now, as if it wasn't extreme enough, a bunch of top riders have created "theatrical" motocross. I mean, why NOT add frontflips, pyrotechnics, acrobats, stilt walkers, and fire-breathing girls to the show? I'm thinkin' it takes a lot of BALLZ to be one of the Cowboyz. And yeah, that's ballz with a z. (Tacoma Dome, 2727 East D St, Tacoma, 800-745-3000. 7:30 pm, $20–$55, all ages.) by Kelly O

Link  |  Post Comment (0)