Derek Erdman just moved to Seattle from Chicago. As he is hilarious, Line Out wanted to give him a weekly column, and all we told him was that it had to somehow tie into music and/or the city at night. Instead of doing this, he basically wrote something that apologized a couple times for not really having anything to do with either, and then he wouldn't touch it. Thusly, we give you the first installment of Caperin' with Derek Erdman. Look for it every Monday! —Eds.

Before I moved to Seattle, people sent me a bunch of articles about the Seattle Freeze. I didn’t really read the articles because I don’t really like to read, but I gathered that when you go to Seattle people are really nice but they don’t invite you to their parties. One of my roommates and I stayed up until 6 am the other night doing bong rips (her, not me) and we discussed this nifty phenomenon, but she thought it just meant that people in Seattle aren’t friendly at all. I’ve had at least 11 people from Chicago ask me if the Seattle Freeze is true. Geez Louise, I dunno! There’s some wonderful graffiti on the I-5 that says “WHY LIE THIS PLACE SUCKS”. When I told an ex-girlfriend who had moved to Seattle two years ago that I was moving here, her initial reply “WHY? THIS PLACE STINKS!”. She’s since moved away, which perhaps has something to do with me because I’m an awful boyfriend. But no, people really like to not like this place!

Trust me, I don’t intend on writing about being new to this town forever, because eventually I won’t be. But there are a number of things that I find confounding about this place that other people don’t at all seem to notice. LIKE GARBAGE. In Chicago you can throw a couch or an Ikea OMAR (oh, brother) shelf in the alley and some city truck will come and take it away. Apparently here you have to take the same things to a place and pay them to take it! I understand the necessity of this, but it really just causes people to leave furniture in the roundabout at Donovan and 12th. I’m sure this happens in other places, but recently at this particular location I’ve seen a particle-board hutch, half of a futon, four TVs, and a mostly destroyed wicker chair with a sign that exclaimed “FREE!”

A few nights ago, I stood on the corner of 1st and Broad in Belltown and asked people what they thought of Seattle. I don’t have a problem approaching strangers, but I think most people are uncomfortable being asked pointed questions on their way to eat. It seemed to me that most people visiting from out of town loved it here. Three people that lived here simply stated that they’re moving to other places. While in Belltown, I was tempted to eat, but decided to stay far away from Umi Sake House. When Rap Master Maurice was on Too Beautiful To Live in 2008, Luke Burbank suggested that I go there and it was a delight (though I may have been on drugs). But in the four times I’ve been back since, the quality has decreased rapidly. Look, I made a graph!

I like nearly everything about Seattle, except for Taco Time. Man, that place makes me so mad. It’s become the thing by which everything must be judged, forcing me to always look on the bright side of everything. Last week, I went into the apartment that I just rented near Alki Beach, and the inside was teeming with flies. My first thought was: At least this was better than living at Taco Time! The next day I spent the first part of my day calling a bunch of Taco Times pretending that I worked there and needed to call off because I was sick. Some of the people that I talked to got really mad, so I figured we’re almost even. I do have to admit though, their ice is great. It’s that crushed-up, hospital-type of ice. But those crunchy burritos are totally gross “food sticks,” like edible batons to be passed in some sort of sub-par Mexi-fast food relay race. Also, I can’t ever seem to find a post office here. I had to mail a bunch of hamburgers today and I sat in a McDonalds parking lot trying to find a post office on my phone for at least 20 minutes. Eventually I found one in Georgetown and it was empty and the clerk was really friendly. THEN I went next door to a sandwich shop called Sandwich Shop. It looked like it was from 1982 on the outside and it looked like 1986 on the inside. The sandwiches looked much like those my aunt Judy used to make me when I was six, and when I got home to eat it, there was a dollar bill between the paper and the sandwich. People just seem to love The Sandwich Shop on Yelp, but I certainly didn’t see anybody there when I went.

Recently, I went to the Pony to see La Sera and Broomsticks. I’ve decided that I’m going to try to spend at least 70 percent of the rest of my life at Pony, which reminds me of a mix between the punker bar in the movie After Hours and the punker bar Tech Noir from The Terminator. It was La Sera’s second show ever, and they’re going to have a record out on Hardly Art soon because their music is lilting and divine. The guitar leads sound like keyboards! A person named Carlos Alberto Fernandez Lopez (referred to as SLOPEZ by his ex-coworkers at Ikea) was telling people that in the last episode of M*A*S*H*, Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce kills himself, which is absolutely NOT the truth. I was introduced to the love of my life this same night, which was a puffy blue Michelin Man jacket worn by a person named Johnny. I couldn’t stop telling him how much I liked that jacket, and I later found out that he left it in his car with the doors unlocked and somebody stole it.

When Grant asked if I’d like to write a column for The Stranger, I was ecstatic. Not only because I’m going to be able to do things and meet people and then write about them without really asking first, but because the Stranger is five times better than the weekly I was used to in Chicago. Grant mentioned that I’ll have to write mostly about music and nightlife, which I certainly intend on doing more of from now on. I just thought this would be a nice way to meet you. HELLO. If you have any events or places that you think a new person in town should have a look at, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

Oh, about the house that I rented near Alki Beach: The landlord told me that a guy killed himself while living there, and it’s in my lease that I’m not allowed to have dogs even visit the premises. Alas, it doesn’t say anything about not having giant housewarming parties, which is why I’m inviting everybody that reads this to the one that I’m going to have in November. It will be all day long, so you really don’t have an excuse not to come. I’ll be giving free haircuts. TAKE THAT, SEATTLE FREEZE.