Caption: What a cool place But I’d hate to have to clean it. art cred: Paul constant
Every year during Seafair weekend, our host throws a house party. People are eating crickets underneath the giant statue of The Beast in the garden, but that’s not what makes this party special. True, there’s a Rapunzel tower and a tree gallows in the back yard and the Blue Angels blast overhead, but the real reason to come to this party is to see The House. Our host has filled nearly every inch of his property with, well, stuff. He refers to it as The Church of the Weird & Bizarre Emporium, and partygoers are wandering around inside, reacting with the kind of hushed wonder that you never hear from jaded city slickers anymore.
Words can’t really describe The House, and the online virtual tour—www.vrseattle.com/pages/browse.php?cat_id=845—only gives half an idea of the majesty of the place. There are 150 antique toasters, Siamese fetuses in jars, Victorian hair art, science-fiction relics, and a number of really cool junk-shop finds, all stacked from floor to ceiling in various themed rooms—The Devil Room! The Future Room!—in a way that doesn’t look cast off, but certainly isn’t museum style. By the time I notice the bazooka hanging from the ceiling, pointing at God’s skull in another room, I’m officially overwhelmed. I think this is the most beautiful man-made place on the planet. As I prepare to leave, the woman with the llamas has arrived. “I have to get these guys down those stairs before it gets dark,” she says, and there’s nothing I can say to that except, “Of course.” Welcome to The Weird.
Want The Stranger to second a partier’s nomination for “worst place ever to get high” at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.