The Occupy Olympia encampment is at Heritage Park, about 10 blocks from the Capitol building. It's nice enough and it has a fine view of Capitol Lake, but it's a park—you'll need a tent, a ground tarp in case of rain, a warm sleeping bag, lots of layers of noncotton clothing, some toasty long underwear, and probably a flask of whiskey to go with your thermos of hot cocoa.

Just a short walk away, however, is a place that would be much warmer to spend your time in. It's called the Capitol building.

The structure, completed in 1928 after six years of construction, is made of "173 million pounds of stone, brick, concrete, and steel," according to its website, and it has withstood three major earthquakes, the Great Depression, and decades of after-hours activities by lawmakers that one can only (and probably doesn't want to) imagine. So it can definitely keep the rain off your head.

It has the best heating that state money can buy, the bathrooms are cleaned every day (sometimes more than once a day!), the toilets are antique monuments of porcelain, and from the central rotunda space you can lie on your back, stare up at an 11.2-million-pound dome meant to protect democracy from unpredictable elements, and contemplate your next step in making democracy work for the 99 percent.

Be aware, this is not a state campground (the official open-to-the-public hours are 7 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Monday through Friday, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday and Sunday). On November 28, several protesters were arrested—and others tased—when they tried to stay in the rotunda past closing time.

Lobby days are well and good, but the real deals are hashed out over drinks. Here's a list of the restaurants where you're most likely to run into your public servants being wooed, pickled, and persuaded by the state's most persuasive lobbyists. Don't be shy, feel free to go and interrupt—you may not be buying dinner, but you are paying their salary.

Anthony's Hearthfire Grill (1675 Marine Drive NE): A gently douchey fish place with nice views, Anthony's is one of Olympia's upscale restaurants, even though it resembles a hotel lobby. This is the place where soda-pop lobbies and big-oil interest groups wine, dine, and surreptitiously lube the assholes of Washington's legislators. Happy hour runs until 6 p.m.

Waterstreet Cafe and Bar (610 Water St): Another nice joint minus the generic hotel vibe of Anthony's. The food is tasty and generally not within the budget of the 99 percent—although its 4–6 p.m. happy hour (with $5 martinis, lemon drops, and mojitos) is pretty banging.

McMenamins Spar Cafe (114 Fourth Ave E): A terrific bar with diner-style food and strong, good drinks. If you're on the hunt for a legislator, be sure to peek in the back room where the smoking lounge used to be—it's full of plush leather chairs and the smell of white men sweating (aka the pungent smell of democracy). State Dems reportedly love this joint.

Fish Tale Brew Pub (515 Jefferson St SE): And finally, if you are sick of Washington's do-nothing legislators and yearn for a quiet place to bitch about them in peace, go to Fish Tale. The beer is really, really tasty.

Governor Chris Gregoire • She's been in office two terms, she's presided over $10.5 billion in cuts to state services over the last three years, she's a Democrat—and yet she's only just come around to forcefully advocating for new revenue in order to keep government working for those who need it most. The only problem is her new revenue plan is a temporary half-cent increase in our state sales tax, making an already regressive tax even more unfair for the poor. Tell her to act like a Democrat with one year left in her final term and advocate for something that's actually progressive. The wealthiest in this state pay no state income tax and enjoy all kinds of tax loopholes.

Senator Joe Zarelli and the Roadkill Caucus • Joe Zarelli is the senior Republican on the state senate Ways and Means Committee, and for some time now he's been teaming up with a handful of conservative Democrats from suburban and rural districts (who for martyry reasons call themselves "the Roadkill Caucus") to effectively block all moves to raise revenue and do other Democraticy things—like closing billions in tax loopholes—to help ease the pain of the Great Recession. Google "Washington State Roadkill Democrats" if you want to visit them individually, or maybe show up at Zarelli's office to show him what real Democrats look like?

Big Business Lobbyists • Major businesses like Microsoft have come out in favor of Gregoire's recent half-cent-sales-tax-increase proposal because they know they need, for example, an educated workforce (and the temporary sales-tax increase would protect higher-education funding while keeping the K–12 school year from being shortened). But while it's nice to see big business supporting these moves, this is not enough. So find the Olympia lobbyists for Microsoft, Boeing, Weyerhaeuser, and all the rest and tell them they also need to order their legislative henchmen to close those tax loopholes (yes, even for businesses like theirs if they know what's good for us long term) and move to institute a high-earners income tax—like Grandpa Gates Sr. has been saying!—while they're at it.

Every protest needs a good protest song or, barring that, a few catchy chants to get the crowd going—and the old Occupy chants are getting repititive. Here are some new ones to try out on legislators:

"Shove bank loopholes up your poop holes!"

Legislators will once again consider repealing a B&O tax exemption big banks enjoy on interest income from first mortgages on residential property. There is no evidence that banks pass these savings on to consumers, yet it costs the state $174.4 million per biennium—money that could be used to fund schools and care for the sick. Sure, the classic Occupy chant—"Banks got bailed out, we got sold out!"—would be just as relevant, but it lacks both the specificity and the crucial poop reference.

"Ho, ho! Hey, hey! We don't want your pepper spray!"

As we mentioned in our lodging tips above, the state Capitol building is not a public camping ground, so when state troopers don their riot gear and start dumping orange, gooey protester repellant on you, this is a defiant chant to shout until their chemical weapons burn your trachea. Alternately, "Whose house? Our house!" should resonate well in both chambers as legislators watch their former supporters blinded, cuffed, and hauled away to jail.

"Don't be such a stupid bitch, grow some balls and tax the rich!"

And no, we're not calling Governor Chris Gregoire, or any other female lawmaker, a bitch, so don't go there. We are, of course, referring to the entire ship of state, a metaphorical vessel, which by maritime tradition carries the feminine gender. And it's a bitch. So there.