I feel justified in the big breakfast I made today (maple smoked turkey sausage, eggs over-easy, and pancakes) because I did a 4.5 miler yesterday, lifted, rehearsed, and went for a 90 minute walk. Pip. I felt even more justified in the Chinese take out dinner I enjoyed tonight while watching "The Goonies" (edited for television) on TBS which stuffed me to the gills while the cat snored on my lap after battening down the hatches around the house.
It's that last part I'd like to touch on.
It's windy. Real windy. And when the wind is this strong it means it's blowing in something or blowing out something. And "something" tells me it's blowing in the chill. And that means outdoor jogs will be a bundlesome affair going forward. I jokingly let out the cat to see how long he'd last outside after caterwauling by the veranda door (less than a minute). I even dropped a few of the storm windows. I look forward to my pine tree in the back falling over on my garage ("Act of God...Act of God!!! New garage!!!") and worry about branches knocking into the neighbors house. I have a large boxelder in the back yard.
Frass.
I chalk it up to new job anxiety. Time to start getting up with the alarm again. And I'm gonna get myself in the frame of mind to warm up to the new job.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
An open letter about energy...people's energy
Dear lady who was patronizing the delightful Uptown bistro where Moda and I had lunch this past Friday...
So it was a drizzly pizzly Friday and we had a gift card to burn through and so we headed out with dreams of Bellini's, Bloody Mary's, and pomme frittes. And while it was a quiet Friday at said bistro, there were still a few folk out to enjoy brunch as well. Lovely.
Now, you were only 5 tables away and I really don't know what kind of day you had but it felt like it was a bad one. Why do I know this? Well, for starters (and to be clear, your conversation wasn't being eavesdropped on) you...energy...was palpable. Like, I felt every angry stab of conversation you made with your friend. And I'm not gonna judge but dang...we're nibbling our fries and loud conversational punctuations peppered your speech. And lady, there were folks trying to have a relaxing Friday brunch. Not cool.
This all culminated in the part where I did eavesdrop...not because I wanted to but it was pretty audible- Complaining about the price of your coffee. Your coffee. Your...coffee.
It's a mildly pricey French Uptown Bistro. Not "Le Folgers". My advice? Switch to the coffee in the green can.
Yours respectfully...
Baby P
So it was a drizzly pizzly Friday and we had a gift card to burn through and so we headed out with dreams of Bellini's, Bloody Mary's, and pomme frittes. And while it was a quiet Friday at said bistro, there were still a few folk out to enjoy brunch as well. Lovely.
Now, you were only 5 tables away and I really don't know what kind of day you had but it felt like it was a bad one. Why do I know this? Well, for starters (and to be clear, your conversation wasn't being eavesdropped on) you...energy...was palpable. Like, I felt every angry stab of conversation you made with your friend. And I'm not gonna judge but dang...we're nibbling our fries and loud conversational punctuations peppered your speech. And lady, there were folks trying to have a relaxing Friday brunch. Not cool.
This all culminated in the part where I did eavesdrop...not because I wanted to but it was pretty audible- Complaining about the price of your coffee. Your coffee. Your...coffee.
It's a mildly pricey French Uptown Bistro. Not "Le Folgers". My advice? Switch to the coffee in the green can.
Yours respectfully...
Baby P
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Work, work, work...
So in exciting news, my temp agency finally hooked me up with a gig starting on Monday. Pip. I've also applied to a gazillion other places over the last 4 weeks, so at least that means I'm waiting for rejection emails. C'mon, fellas! I'm-a waitin'!
In other news, I finally got a gig that'll run for a few performances at the BLB in October. Sweet. For a minute there I was thinking "Gee. This'll be the first year since, well, 1990 that I've gone 12 consecutive months without doing a show. Ho. Lee. Crap."
Yes sir, boy howdy though...gonna miss the little things I tell you. Like bathrobe time, which is-you know-daily. And going downstairs this morning to get a cup of coffee and wondering why the cat hasn't been conversing with me only to see him perched on the nook table staring intensely outside. I go to spy what has him so rapt and it's a frassin' squirrel cleaning itself on the patio table.
In case you're curious, my roommate has been out of town for the last week or so and I'm in charge of George. Oddly enough, the cat has been pretty good about not barfing in the middle of the night.
Also, "The Ivey Awards" were this last Monday. Good times. Moda looked great and I decided on sporting the monochrome look this year. And the chrome look. No Ivey is complete w/o packing your flask. IJS.
In other news, I finally got a gig that'll run for a few performances at the BLB in October. Sweet. For a minute there I was thinking "Gee. This'll be the first year since, well, 1990 that I've gone 12 consecutive months without doing a show. Ho. Lee. Crap."
Yes sir, boy howdy though...gonna miss the little things I tell you. Like bathrobe time, which is-you know-daily. And going downstairs this morning to get a cup of coffee and wondering why the cat hasn't been conversing with me only to see him perched on the nook table staring intensely outside. I go to spy what has him so rapt and it's a frassin' squirrel cleaning itself on the patio table.
In case you're curious, my roommate has been out of town for the last week or so and I'm in charge of George. Oddly enough, the cat has been pretty good about not barfing in the middle of the night.
Also, "The Ivey Awards" were this last Monday. Good times. Moda looked great and I decided on sporting the monochrome look this year. And the chrome look. No Ivey is complete w/o packing your flask. IJS.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
I stand corrected
What's worse than discovering cat vom with your bare toes at 4 am?
Cat poop at 7.
I've washed, showered, cleaned and vacuumed and still feel gross as hell.
Cat poop at 7.
I've washed, showered, cleaned and vacuumed and still feel gross as hell.
Note to self...
I was frassed at for wanting to know what I should wear to this years Ivey awards and so I brought up all my tux's for viewing. I'll be doing the all-black outfit this year, but in figuring out stupid things like 3 button, 2 button, etc. I found the following in my one button masterpiece:
1- pair of sunglasses
3-fliers for upcoming shows (circa Fall 2008)
1-Flask my brother gave me as a wedding present
This garnered a chuckle from us when I looked at Moda and said "Does this look like it still fits...what the f#ck is in my pockets?"
1- pair of sunglasses
3-fliers for upcoming shows (circa Fall 2008)
1-Flask my brother gave me as a wedding present
This garnered a chuckle from us when I looked at Moda and said "Does this look like it still fits...what the f#ck is in my pockets?"
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Does anyone else think...
That the Cities Ninety-Seven, with a few notable exceptions, that their playlist is perpetually stuck in between the years 1994-1996?
RIP, Dalton...
Well...people with the big "C" can't always have happy endings. And I do think it's kinda sad about the Swayze-ist of Patricks recent passing. I wasn't a huge fan of "DD" to be fair. I mean, I saw it, but outside of musicals I never had the same jones for "dance" movies where the dancing is a part of the overall drama. (Like "Frassloose" back in '84. There were far better films to see that year, IMO...cough cough "Ghostbusters"? Cough cough "Temple of Doom"? Cough cough "Buckaroo Banzai"?) And I think I caught "The Outsiders" maybe once or twice on a Saturday channel 9 edited-to-hell matinee and was like "meh...the book was better".
But I so did dig on "Red Dawn". And a couple of years later when we had free HBO, I probably watched "Road House" 10 times. (I still was years away from taking karate so how was I to know he was only doing "Dance Fu"? Bonus points if you can catch the Benny "The Jet" Urquidez cameo in the car lot Bigfoot scene.) I mean...that movie was dumb, over the top, and (in later years) extremely quotable. "I thought you'd be bigger", "Pain don't hurt", and Jeff Healy's insane thespian delivery of "Word is you f#ck with him...he'll theal yer fate". (Yeah, I wrote his lisp in. Suck it)
And of course the nudity and Sam Elliot. Hello? Crap, Ro and I bogarted the "throat rip-out" when we auditioned for "KFH" a few years ago. Classic.
People were blah-blah over "Ghost" and I liked it well enough. (I took a date to see it at the Brookdale UA. Mostly I remember flicking a band-aid down her blouse and laughing when the evil "ghosts" dragged away bad-guy ghosts. That dumb sound effect. And for the record, I was 15. So apologies for said flicking. She didn't get mad, anyway. Good ol' Angie W.)
And of course x's 2- His SNL appearance. Doi. "Everybodies workin' for the weekennnnd!"
"Point Break" was more doofy adrenalin and I always thought that this movie was dumb to have "Ted" play and F-B-I agent...and wtf was a "Chili Pepper" doing in this movie? (Points again for an early Tom-I make the worst celebrity sex tape on the planet" Sizemore sighting)
Sure, he had some dogs for the following 10 years or so but that little role in "Donnie Darko" was just another awesome casting job in an equally awesome dark little indie film that blew up in a good way. Don't call it a comeback!
For me, though? It'll always be Dalton. The philosophizing cooler. Pure-D awesome.
Rest in peace, 'Miho.
But I so did dig on "Red Dawn". And a couple of years later when we had free HBO, I probably watched "Road House" 10 times. (I still was years away from taking karate so how was I to know he was only doing "Dance Fu"? Bonus points if you can catch the Benny "The Jet" Urquidez cameo in the car lot Bigfoot scene.) I mean...that movie was dumb, over the top, and (in later years) extremely quotable. "I thought you'd be bigger", "Pain don't hurt", and Jeff Healy's insane thespian delivery of "Word is you f#ck with him...he'll theal yer fate". (Yeah, I wrote his lisp in. Suck it)
And of course the nudity and Sam Elliot. Hello? Crap, Ro and I bogarted the "throat rip-out" when we auditioned for "KFH" a few years ago. Classic.
People were blah-blah over "Ghost" and I liked it well enough. (I took a date to see it at the Brookdale UA. Mostly I remember flicking a band-aid down her blouse and laughing when the evil "ghosts" dragged away bad-guy ghosts. That dumb sound effect. And for the record, I was 15. So apologies for said flicking. She didn't get mad, anyway. Good ol' Angie W.)
And of course x's 2- His SNL appearance. Doi. "Everybodies workin' for the weekennnnd!"
"Point Break" was more doofy adrenalin and I always thought that this movie was dumb to have "Ted" play and F-B-I agent...and wtf was a "Chili Pepper" doing in this movie? (Points again for an early Tom-I make the worst celebrity sex tape on the planet" Sizemore sighting)
Sure, he had some dogs for the following 10 years or so but that little role in "Donnie Darko" was just another awesome casting job in an equally awesome dark little indie film that blew up in a good way. Don't call it a comeback!
For me, though? It'll always be Dalton. The philosophizing cooler. Pure-D awesome.
Rest in peace, 'Miho.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Why I <3 NE Mipples...
Dear everyone-
I obtained an "I Heart NE" button from Surdyk's shortly before the NEMAA Art-A-Whirl last May. To this day, it has been mistaken for the following:
I Heart Nebraska
I Heart New England
I Heart Knee (Pretty creative, IMO)
I get it, a little. One person, one, has figured it out. We're at MOA today shopping for Ivey Award dresses and whilst waiting for try-on's at Nordstrom's Bodacious Rack this kid was staring at me. (Okay, a teenager). It got so that the staring went past MN (Ha. Get it? Another Acronym!) comfort, and after making eye-contact at his chest-staring head (I, for one, do not have a bodacious rack) I said "What's up?".
(In a foreign exchange student accent. He looked pretty-boy nordic, so hearing a German accent surprised me a bit)
"What is 'Knee'?"
(me) "Oh. North East. North East Minneapolis. I'm the uncrowned King of Northeast."
(Blank Stare. His girlfriends titter. There were three girlfriends.)
"Northeast Metropolis?"
"No. That's Superman. We're fairly territorial in our neighborhoods in Minneapolis."
"Oh" (Laughs uncomfortably)
I loiter outside the ladies dressing rooms for as long as possible until they leave then take a seat. Ever notice how, if you're male and loitering outside of a ladies dressing room you still kind of feel pervy? You could be staring at the lights the whole time until said "dressed" lady comes out for an opinion (or whatever) or laying face down on the ground. You're still left with the whole "dude loitering outside the ladies dressing rooms" stigma. It's weird. (Even in the ladies shoe area, which takes up a parking lot sized area in most department stores*, if you're a guy/boyfriend/husband the guys master the blank forward stare. You go into a coma. And no one asks questions. The nurse just comes by to read you stories)
Later, I get treated to restauranty goodness for being a sport the whole (cough-cough) 7 hour day and the server makes a comment that she likes Northeast Minneapolis too (or something) and it came as such a shock that I almost didn't sit for a second. We laughed. A lot.
I need to stop wearing that dumb button. Or I should have given to the exchange student in solidarity.
*If I wanted job security? I should sell women's shoes at Nordstroms. Al Bundy was on crack for hating his job, Humpty. They were on you like white on snow- if you were man...woman...it didn't matter. Those ladies were frickin' pro's. There were literally 3 sales reps for every one person and they did their jobs in style. Holy...I mean the slick pitch: "Well, those 'Glitz' brand might feel loose but the Praaaada will never-ever fit you poorly. It's the design you see?" (She fit it in quick and dirty during her sales pitch like a shiv between the ribs during a prison brawl. I was amazed.
She didn't buy the Prada, btw.)
I obtained an "I Heart NE" button from Surdyk's shortly before the NEMAA Art-A-Whirl last May. To this day, it has been mistaken for the following:
I Heart Nebraska
I Heart New England
I Heart Knee (Pretty creative, IMO)
I get it, a little. One person, one, has figured it out. We're at MOA today shopping for Ivey Award dresses and whilst waiting for try-on's at Nordstrom's Bodacious Rack this kid was staring at me. (Okay, a teenager). It got so that the staring went past MN (Ha. Get it? Another Acronym!) comfort, and after making eye-contact at his chest-staring head (I, for one, do not have a bodacious rack) I said "What's up?".
(In a foreign exchange student accent. He looked pretty-boy nordic, so hearing a German accent surprised me a bit)
"What is 'Knee'?"
(me) "Oh. North East. North East Minneapolis. I'm the uncrowned King of Northeast."
(Blank Stare. His girlfriends titter. There were three girlfriends.)
"Northeast Metropolis?"
"No. That's Superman. We're fairly territorial in our neighborhoods in Minneapolis."
"Oh" (Laughs uncomfortably)
I loiter outside the ladies dressing rooms for as long as possible until they leave then take a seat. Ever notice how, if you're male and loitering outside of a ladies dressing room you still kind of feel pervy? You could be staring at the lights the whole time until said "dressed" lady comes out for an opinion (or whatever) or laying face down on the ground. You're still left with the whole "dude loitering outside the ladies dressing rooms" stigma. It's weird. (Even in the ladies shoe area, which takes up a parking lot sized area in most department stores*, if you're a guy/boyfriend/husband the guys master the blank forward stare. You go into a coma. And no one asks questions. The nurse just comes by to read you stories)
Later, I get treated to restauranty goodness for being a sport the whole (cough-cough) 7 hour day and the server makes a comment that she likes Northeast Minneapolis too (or something) and it came as such a shock that I almost didn't sit for a second. We laughed. A lot.
I need to stop wearing that dumb button. Or I should have given to the exchange student in solidarity.
*If I wanted job security? I should sell women's shoes at Nordstroms. Al Bundy was on crack for hating his job, Humpty. They were on you like white on snow- if you were man...woman...it didn't matter. Those ladies were frickin' pro's. There were literally 3 sales reps for every one person and they did their jobs in style. Holy...I mean the slick pitch: "Well, those 'Glitz' brand might feel loose but the Praaaada will never-ever fit you poorly. It's the design you see?" (She fit it in quick and dirty during her sales pitch like a shiv between the ribs during a prison brawl. I was amazed.
She didn't buy the Prada, btw.)
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Can't...keep...it in...
I wouldn't usually wish this on anyone, and sorry if it might offend (I am, as you know, an amateur b-squad observationalist) but sakes aLIVE is urn-checking-outing the dumbest thing you can do? I was apprehensive enough with family due to the sensitive nature of it but outside of a clown handing you a balloon before you go in the "showroom" there could be little more ridiculous outside of...okay, here's a list of potentials so you all are prepared. Keep in mind, you have an image of what an urn is, BUT you can also get cremains:
Made into diamonds
Put into Lava Lamps
Put into a light up night light globe
Put in Biodegradable heart-shaped bags
Placed in the low...low end model. Which is plastic and looks like an office garbage can
Placed in a, gah, it's supposed to be a suspended Jesus but my brother said "It looks like Han Solo suspended in carbonite..." He was right.
Made into a door stop or garden marker
And my favorite?
A teddy bear. A $130 teddy bear.*
We cried a lot, but I think we also laughed a lot too which is what he would have done at the silly nature of it all. And it helped a little. It was needed.
*It was in the kids section, but perched next to the "formal" urns made it a little unnerving yo. Moda and I took turns trying to unscrew the head to see if that's where the cremains were supposed to go.
**I still hate the term cremains. And if it wasn't for "Six Feet Under" I'd never had known it.
Made into diamonds
Put into Lava Lamps
Put into a light up night light globe
Put in Biodegradable heart-shaped bags
Placed in the low...low end model. Which is plastic and looks like an office garbage can
Placed in a, gah, it's supposed to be a suspended Jesus but my brother said "It looks like Han Solo suspended in carbonite..." He was right.
Made into a door stop or garden marker
And my favorite?
A teddy bear. A $130 teddy bear.*
We cried a lot, but I think we also laughed a lot too which is what he would have done at the silly nature of it all. And it helped a little. It was needed.
*It was in the kids section, but perched next to the "formal" urns made it a little unnerving yo. Moda and I took turns trying to unscrew the head to see if that's where the cremains were supposed to go.
**I still hate the term cremains. And if it wasn't for "Six Feet Under" I'd never had known it.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Hiya friends. I know I've been piecemeal about blogging in spite of a lot of spare time the last few weeks and I'm sorry to say that I'll probably be doing another sabbatical while I get my head on straight and spend some time with my family. I'm not getting into it in too much detail here on the cyber-web but I'd like to leave you all with a quick non-sequiter:
I spent a very, very good day yesterday with my dad.
I spent a very, very good day yesterday with my dad.
Friday, July 24, 2009
You gotta be kidding, right?
Let's talk about tricky sloganizing, shall we? Dunkin Donuts newest: "America Runs on Dunkin'!" with little pictures for those who don't understand the message: Picture of ' Merica. Picture of a runner, ala' the Olympics. Picture of a donut.
Wow. Donuts+Running='s did someone in their advertising department say "HEY! These donut's are getting a BAD RAP! Saying they promote obesity and have little to NO nutritional value? What about JELLY filled donuts, friends?!?! THAT is a fruit if I ever SAW one. No, no, no...the time has come to help the noble pastry RISE from it's painful yoke of unhealthiness while we usher in a NEW DAY OF THE DONUT...! AND THAT MEANS RUNNING!!!"
Why not just run a smear campaign on foods that are a good source of iron and vitamins? Or are a prime source of roughage?
"SPINACH! It will MAKE you play WII FAT!!!"
"F#CK BROCCOLI! Do you WANT to have DOUBLE CHINS?!?!"
"Baked potato? HOW ABOUT COUCH POTATO!"
"KALE WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"
"America is screwed with tomatoes" (This is where you have the picture of 'Merica. A screw...or a silhouette of someone, you know, getting screwed. And the noble lycopene laced tomato.)
Equating donuts and health. I donut know.
(Flashback) A really happy memory from when I was a kid was when my dad would take me either to Dunkin' or to Jack's Bakery over by NHCC for a donut and milk after my hockey games. He'd get a coffee and usually an apple fritter. I'd get a 1% milk and either a long john (They weight 16lbs at Jack's) or one of those powdered jobbies filled with chocolate cream and the "chocolate frosting nipple looking thing" on top. The smell is what will take you back at DD.
In high school, we would/could order a dozen to demolish amongst 2-3 of us or order a variety of 24-36 donut holes. Oof.
As an A-Dult, I learned to appreciate their coffee. DD does have some pretty strong and tasty coffee.
And as an aging frasser in a world where DD is coming back, and now apparently using a picture of a runner to pimp their D's as opposed to a middle aged man muttering "It's time to make the donuts..." I can't remember the last time I had one.
Wow. Donuts+Running='s did someone in their advertising department say "HEY! These donut's are getting a BAD RAP! Saying they promote obesity and have little to NO nutritional value? What about JELLY filled donuts, friends?!?! THAT is a fruit if I ever SAW one. No, no, no...the time has come to help the noble pastry RISE from it's painful yoke of unhealthiness while we usher in a NEW DAY OF THE DONUT...! AND THAT MEANS RUNNING!!!"
Why not just run a smear campaign on foods that are a good source of iron and vitamins? Or are a prime source of roughage?
"SPINACH! It will MAKE you play WII FAT!!!"
"F#CK BROCCOLI! Do you WANT to have DOUBLE CHINS?!?!"
"Baked potato? HOW ABOUT COUCH POTATO!"
"KALE WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"
"America is screwed with tomatoes" (This is where you have the picture of 'Merica. A screw...or a silhouette of someone, you know, getting screwed. And the noble lycopene laced tomato.)
Equating donuts and health. I donut know.
(Flashback) A really happy memory from when I was a kid was when my dad would take me either to Dunkin' or to Jack's Bakery over by NHCC for a donut and milk after my hockey games. He'd get a coffee and usually an apple fritter. I'd get a 1% milk and either a long john (They weight 16lbs at Jack's) or one of those powdered jobbies filled with chocolate cream and the "chocolate frosting nipple looking thing" on top. The smell is what will take you back at DD.
In high school, we would/could order a dozen to demolish amongst 2-3 of us or order a variety of 24-36 donut holes. Oof.
As an A-Dult, I learned to appreciate their coffee. DD does have some pretty strong and tasty coffee.
And as an aging frasser in a world where DD is coming back, and now apparently using a picture of a runner to pimp their D's as opposed to a middle aged man muttering "It's time to make the donuts..." I can't remember the last time I had one.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Great. Just...Great.
So on a happy note, Moda got back in town from KS last night. She told me she caught a slight bug while down there which was a touch flu-like. I was able to visit and we shared some Chinese food before heading back home for the night.
Today, I wake up feeling much the same as she described. It started when getting out of bed proved to be a challenge, and a general sense of ish kept me from doing anything but the most mundane stuff around the house. After I was finally able to drag my carcass downstairs for some water and a little bite to eat it developed into full bore nausea. I had been sitting on the couch for an hour in my running gear with a book waiting for my laundry to finish up, thoughts of hitting the gym slowly escaping my mind. Sure enough when I hit the basement to collect my clothes, I took a deep breath and whoooosh- All the water and the lunch I had came riiiiight back up. Ish.
So as I type this, I am sweating profusely with a swollen belly and a deep concern that being ill and unemployed are not a very good mix.
On a second positive note, I did score a gig from my audition last Friday. So let's hope that whatever this crap is, it won't mean fauceting sweat while filming.
Ugh.
Today, I wake up feeling much the same as she described. It started when getting out of bed proved to be a challenge, and a general sense of ish kept me from doing anything but the most mundane stuff around the house. After I was finally able to drag my carcass downstairs for some water and a little bite to eat it developed into full bore nausea. I had been sitting on the couch for an hour in my running gear with a book waiting for my laundry to finish up, thoughts of hitting the gym slowly escaping my mind. Sure enough when I hit the basement to collect my clothes, I took a deep breath and whoooosh- All the water and the lunch I had came riiiiight back up. Ish.
So as I type this, I am sweating profusely with a swollen belly and a deep concern that being ill and unemployed are not a very good mix.
On a second positive note, I did score a gig from my audition last Friday. So let's hope that whatever this crap is, it won't mean fauceting sweat while filming.
Ugh.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Double, triple ow.
Well ferrets and firecrackers...I know I've promised an unemployment blaug, but I guess outside of the general mundane routine that is hermiting myself/working out/finding new work I figured it just didn't make for very good theater. (It's okay, folks. Temp staff got me a new gig in a week or so. And I found another one on MONSTER that seemed right up my alley...with the caveat being I'd need to obtain my series 6, 26, AND 63. Time to stock up on Gingko Biloba. )
So outside of my personal goal of having read (nearly) all the Harry Potter books in 10 days. (As opposed to my last, lame, unemployment goal of watching film series like "The Godfather" or "Lord of the Rings"...extended cut...) I was given an opportunity by my pal Davey to hit up the Cannon River for some tubin. (Or in my case, "tubbin". Rhymes w/"chubbin") As many of my fellow MN'an's can attest, the weather hasn't been very "July" like. Rather, it's been floating in the low 60's for the last couple of days. We were assured it would get to at least 75 degree's by Caturday, the date of our voyage, and if tubing were out then we'd go on and rent canoes. This...this all sounds pretty straightforward.
Now if anyone remembers the ill-fated trip down the old CR back in 2007, you will remember it was a bit of a castastrophe on my part. Lost my sunglasses, got ridiculously inebriate, attempted to emulate the noble dolphin while wearing my favorite cowboy hat and ruined it, not to mention bunging myself up pretty good on the rocks etc. And, in spite of wearing waterproof SPF 45 sunblock, managed to snare myself a dinger of a burn. Not fun. No way.
"Managing Restraint" was my theme this year. I figured a canoe trip would keep me safely dry and free of any river mishaps. I remembered all my Manitou/Scouting practice (That's right, friends. "J" stroke? "C" stroke? I'm all up in that.) So what if I hadn't canoed in 16/17 years. How hard could it be, right? And when you get tired/bored you either let the other person paddle or let the lazy river take you while you steer. So I bundled up, forwent sunscreen (and left the beerz at home, thanks!), and we all meandered South. Hey, the sun could still come out sometime too! What could POSSibly go awry? Well, when your friendly neighborhood B-Squad Ahab is at the paddle...much:
-My canoe was swamped, twice due to vigorous paddling away from the shore. And I'm fairly certain my canoe buddy hates me. At the very least, they switched up partners with me mid-way through.
-Cell phone, which was double wrapped in sealed ziploc baggies, was ruined...again.
-Cowboy hat now looks like a rumpled version of the "Sorting Hat" due to said capsizing.
-Somehow when the canoes were rented, we were taken to the farthest launching point upriver. About 12 miles. So after a while we were all like "I wonder what time it is?" and another canoer yells "5:30!"...(We started around 12:30-1 and expected to get back, well, sooner)
-That bit about the river carrying you? Nah-uh. It was almost still. See, in my fantasy world I had imagined something so low key it would make sleeping appear industrious. Nope. There was lots, and lots of paddling. And more. And sitting on a hard metal bench. For 6+ hours.
-I lost my favorite red flannel. That, my Diet Mt. Dew, sunglasses, and half a sammich all fell prey to the rivers murky...sometimes more than 2 foot...depths.
-Did I mention when the temperature drops as the day goes on...there is no sun to dry you...and you've already fallen in the river so you're soaked...did I mention it gets kinda cold? Oof.
- At the mid-way point I stepped out of the canoe into what can only be called lightning sand. It nearly bi-sected me at the ballz (I had expected solid ground underfoot and sunk in immediately up to my knee while stepping out of the canoe) and I actually had to do the whole two-handed "pull-my-leg-out" routine to get unstuck.
-It's funny how many scrapes and cuts you can get and not realize it due to cold water. Active. Open. Bleeding. I was like "oh hey..."
- I lost my gum somewhere. So my mouth tasted pretty narsty and I got self-conscious that my breath would knock out cattle.
-All that paddling? The "Oh I was a boy scout and it's just canoeing so I will f#ck some s#it up on this river BLAH!"!?!? That, coupled with sitting prone on that cold metal seat. Coupled with occasionally having to step out of the boat onto unsure footing. Or pulling it off shore with buddies inside. Or trying to get back in to it in waist deep water. Sheeoot. I started my new workout routine 4 weeks ago. Pretty intense, at least since I haven't worked out that hard for a few years.
Nothing. I haven't felt this sore since trying to manually stir cement to finish my side walk. Since carrying over 80 paver blocks, or shovelling two Volvo-sized piles of black dirt and wheelbarrowing it for a weekend. Folks, I type this after waking up at 6:30 am to roll over in bed only to realize that even rolling over in bed is a chore. I dropped my water bottle since I couldn't make a stupid fist to hold it. So I popped some ibuprofen and chillaxed for a bit before realizing the long, comic potential of my day.
And you know what? I had a blast. A real blast. Yee Haw. Let's tube if and when it gets warmer tho'.
KTHXBYE
So outside of my personal goal of having read (nearly) all the Harry Potter books in 10 days. (As opposed to my last, lame, unemployment goal of watching film series like "The Godfather" or "Lord of the Rings"...extended cut...) I was given an opportunity by my pal Davey to hit up the Cannon River for some tubin. (Or in my case, "tubbin". Rhymes w/"chubbin") As many of my fellow MN'an's can attest, the weather hasn't been very "July" like. Rather, it's been floating in the low 60's for the last couple of days. We were assured it would get to at least 75 degree's by Caturday, the date of our voyage, and if tubing were out then we'd go on and rent canoes. This...this all sounds pretty straightforward.
Now if anyone remembers the ill-fated trip down the old CR back in 2007, you will remember it was a bit of a castastrophe on my part. Lost my sunglasses, got ridiculously inebriate, attempted to emulate the noble dolphin while wearing my favorite cowboy hat and ruined it, not to mention bunging myself up pretty good on the rocks etc. And, in spite of wearing waterproof SPF 45 sunblock, managed to snare myself a dinger of a burn. Not fun. No way.
"Managing Restraint" was my theme this year. I figured a canoe trip would keep me safely dry and free of any river mishaps. I remembered all my Manitou/Scouting practice (That's right, friends. "J" stroke? "C" stroke? I'm all up in that.) So what if I hadn't canoed in 16/17 years. How hard could it be, right? And when you get tired/bored you either let the other person paddle or let the lazy river take you while you steer. So I bundled up, forwent sunscreen (and left the beerz at home, thanks!), and we all meandered South. Hey, the sun could still come out sometime too! What could POSSibly go awry? Well, when your friendly neighborhood B-Squad Ahab is at the paddle...much:
-My canoe was swamped, twice due to vigorous paddling away from the shore. And I'm fairly certain my canoe buddy hates me. At the very least, they switched up partners with me mid-way through.
-Cell phone, which was double wrapped in sealed ziploc baggies, was ruined...again.
-Cowboy hat now looks like a rumpled version of the "Sorting Hat" due to said capsizing.
-Somehow when the canoes were rented, we were taken to the farthest launching point upriver. About 12 miles. So after a while we were all like "I wonder what time it is?" and another canoer yells "5:30!"...(We started around 12:30-1 and expected to get back, well, sooner)
-That bit about the river carrying you? Nah-uh. It was almost still. See, in my fantasy world I had imagined something so low key it would make sleeping appear industrious. Nope. There was lots, and lots of paddling. And more. And sitting on a hard metal bench. For 6+ hours.
-I lost my favorite red flannel. That, my Diet Mt. Dew, sunglasses, and half a sammich all fell prey to the rivers murky...sometimes more than 2 foot...depths.
-Did I mention when the temperature drops as the day goes on...there is no sun to dry you...and you've already fallen in the river so you're soaked...did I mention it gets kinda cold? Oof.
- At the mid-way point I stepped out of the canoe into what can only be called lightning sand. It nearly bi-sected me at the ballz (I had expected solid ground underfoot and sunk in immediately up to my knee while stepping out of the canoe) and I actually had to do the whole two-handed "pull-my-leg-out" routine to get unstuck.
-It's funny how many scrapes and cuts you can get and not realize it due to cold water. Active. Open. Bleeding. I was like "oh hey..."
- I lost my gum somewhere. So my mouth tasted pretty narsty and I got self-conscious that my breath would knock out cattle.
-All that paddling? The "Oh I was a boy scout and it's just canoeing so I will f#ck some s#it up on this river BLAH!"!?!? That, coupled with sitting prone on that cold metal seat. Coupled with occasionally having to step out of the boat onto unsure footing. Or pulling it off shore with buddies inside. Or trying to get back in to it in waist deep water. Sheeoot. I started my new workout routine 4 weeks ago. Pretty intense, at least since I haven't worked out that hard for a few years.
Nothing. I haven't felt this sore since trying to manually stir cement to finish my side walk. Since carrying over 80 paver blocks, or shovelling two Volvo-sized piles of black dirt and wheelbarrowing it for a weekend. Folks, I type this after waking up at 6:30 am to roll over in bed only to realize that even rolling over in bed is a chore. I dropped my water bottle since I couldn't make a stupid fist to hold it. So I popped some ibuprofen and chillaxed for a bit before realizing the long, comic potential of my day.
And you know what? I had a blast. A real blast. Yee Haw. Let's tube if and when it gets warmer tho'.
KTHXBYE
Monday, July 13, 2009
Annual B'Day greetings to RSVP!
Happy Birthday, big brotherness RSVP! Your ninja self looks great, per normal!
Embarrassing big brother story #604:
As children, (young adults, adults, etc.) he always had an adventuresome streak. Yes, yes. In fact, 62% of the time he'd plunge headlong up mountainsides, down ravines, into forests, up hills...(Water traps were usually the places he'd say "Okay. Scootch down there and see what you can find..." Or, "We're going back in the woods to find a hidden lake. Stay home if you want" And Iiiiiii found it. And a dead cow. Ish)
So once, when we were very young and mama was getting her hair did at the Village North Shopping Center, we were traipsing around the back near Shingle Creek (pronounced "crick") proper where a culvert helped the flow under Zane avenue across from where our former dentist was housed. In a first, I got the "Stay Back" warning from he- meaning he'd go first and have fun while I would stay up looking lost and lonely in my Tuffskin jeans and yellow w/green piping tank top from the 70's with no adult supervision. As a rule, parents would ALWAYS avoid this kid perched precariously by a culvert whilst his only 2.5 year older brother was gallavanting. That's right. Not my kid, not my problem.
I did hear shortly after, a sound that would haunt my dreams and ring in my ears for yearsssss. It sounded like death. Like a wailing banshee, coming at your home bringing foreboding warnings. Like, like, a rattling Dementor- coming for your soul. (Actually, it was more like a screaming kitteh, seeing another strange kitteh. Georgie made the same sound in the breakfast nook last week when he saw a stray neighborhood kitteh getting in our planted herb-garden-sorry- HIS planted herb garden catnip. Bushy tail and all)
Turns out, young man found hisself a MUSkrat. Real ornery one too. Oh, he was okay. Tore outta there a$$ over tea kettle screaming. See, in the 70's? When your folks bought you a belt? They bought those suckers to LAST. Meaning, that piece of leather (or canvass) needed to carry you until you were at least, oh, 23-25 years old. Well, that left a lot of belt left over to dangle like a gi belt. Um. Only longer. So that 'skrat got it a HUGE target (lucky for RSVP) and launched at it like a missle.
And. Was mom upset at our risky behavior around a running creek, culvert, and potentially rabid muskrat out for blood?
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BELT YOUNG MAN WHEN WE GET HOME I'LL..."*
Happy birthday, Biggie. I love you.
* In all fairness, this is similar to the response I received when hit by two 10-Speeds while she taught a community ed belly dancing class, and I was led in the building fauceting blood, splinters, road rash, and a bloody nose...age 4. Note to past me? Do not wear your nice cowboy outfit and try to cross the street thinking you were faster than the bikers.
Embarrassing big brother story #604:
As children, (young adults, adults, etc.) he always had an adventuresome streak. Yes, yes. In fact, 62% of the time he'd plunge headlong up mountainsides, down ravines, into forests, up hills...(Water traps were usually the places he'd say "Okay. Scootch down there and see what you can find..." Or, "We're going back in the woods to find a hidden lake. Stay home if you want" And Iiiiiii found it. And a dead cow. Ish)
So once, when we were very young and mama was getting her hair did at the Village North Shopping Center, we were traipsing around the back near Shingle Creek (pronounced "crick") proper where a culvert helped the flow under Zane avenue across from where our former dentist was housed. In a first, I got the "Stay Back" warning from he- meaning he'd go first and have fun while I would stay up looking lost and lonely in my Tuffskin jeans and yellow w/green piping tank top from the 70's with no adult supervision. As a rule, parents would ALWAYS avoid this kid perched precariously by a culvert whilst his only 2.5 year older brother was gallavanting. That's right. Not my kid, not my problem.
I did hear shortly after, a sound that would haunt my dreams and ring in my ears for yearsssss. It sounded like death. Like a wailing banshee, coming at your home bringing foreboding warnings. Like, like, a rattling Dementor- coming for your soul. (Actually, it was more like a screaming kitteh, seeing another strange kitteh. Georgie made the same sound in the breakfast nook last week when he saw a stray neighborhood kitteh getting in our planted herb-garden-sorry- HIS planted herb garden catnip. Bushy tail and all)
Turns out, young man found hisself a MUSkrat. Real ornery one too. Oh, he was okay. Tore outta there a$$ over tea kettle screaming. See, in the 70's? When your folks bought you a belt? They bought those suckers to LAST. Meaning, that piece of leather (or canvass) needed to carry you until you were at least, oh, 23-25 years old. Well, that left a lot of belt left over to dangle like a gi belt. Um. Only longer. So that 'skrat got it a HUGE target (lucky for RSVP) and launched at it like a missle.
And. Was mom upset at our risky behavior around a running creek, culvert, and potentially rabid muskrat out for blood?
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BELT YOUNG MAN WHEN WE GET HOME I'LL..."*
Happy birthday, Biggie. I love you.
* In all fairness, this is similar to the response I received when hit by two 10-Speeds while she taught a community ed belly dancing class, and I was led in the building fauceting blood, splinters, road rash, and a bloody nose...age 4. Note to past me? Do not wear your nice cowboy outfit and try to cross the street thinking you were faster than the bikers.
Friday, July 10, 2009
What...The...Frass...
(Please note the way the arrow on the package points to...the package)
I know this is far from being a triumphant return to the blog-o-sphere (esp. for my 2-3 adoring fans. And esp.esp. b/c I'm unemployed...AGAIN!) But this was FAR too precious to pass up a thought or three.
O'er breakfast today, I was flipping through the B,B&B circular and whilst adding color commentary to the newest gadgets that our upwardly mobile public may covet (Oh, and B, B, and B? $55,000 contest for college kids? That's greeeeeat. Poppa will take a check, thanks) such as a "Over the door 16 baseball cap holding cap rack"- I mean that was enough to make me chortle, right? (Mostly because I own maybe 3 baseball hats. The oldest dating back to 1995 when I did the most pull-ups of the day at the Marine recruiting station. That's right. Marines.)
I didn't even chuckle when they advertised the "Snuggie" (i.e. the "WTF Blanket". Mental note- Moda's birthday is coming up) No, no...the "Man-Groomer" caught my rapt attention.
Man-Groomer. Say it out loud. Go on. Say it yet? It sounds, people, like a bad SNL sketch from the 70's along with the Bass-O-Matic. I mean, really? Really? The ad showed someone shaving their shoulders and then another picture with a bare (baaaare) chest with captions saying "SHOULDERS AND ARMS!" and "CHEST AND BACK"...captions that would easily be found on an ad for Bowflex or a Weider Home Gym. Except, and really, really- LOOK AT THE BOX.
It should be called "B#ll-Shaver" and be done with it. Really. Ain't they got no mama?
More to come.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Nose-talgia...
Happy Father's day, y'all! For me, I'd like to send my love to RsVP and my own pa- The former for being someone who I emulated and held as the acme of coolness when I was a kid and the latter for being...well...my dad. I wouldn't be the frasser I am without him. Or be alive for that matter.
But...
Today we met the extended fam out at the OG in the Grove. I love our get togethers nowadays more than when I was a kid/teens/20's because I feel like there is a sense of candor now that I'm older that was never prevalent- Example? Today , the Lowry Bridge went down. And while I was elbowing my way through conversations about how I wanted to be there on my bike, my aunt quietly told me about how many trips she took in the late 50's early 60's to visit my uncle when they lived in North. Huh...I did not know this. And I love them for sharing.
Heading to the Grove, however, I chose to leave a lil' early so that I could make a personal side trip through my old nabe. Okay, so per normal I left late but was able to make it up Brooklyn Blvd which I titled "The Long Way" to the OG. And oh my, how things have changed. After dinner, I managed to have a maudlyn trip back home where I could really be a quizzacle investigator of my "old life". See, I realized that I've segmented so much of my wee existance into "BP years", "College/Uptown Years"/"NE years" etc that I kinda feel I don't respect the changes that happen.
So I toodle.
I toodle up Brooklyn Blvd. Taking a right on Jolly Lane after HWY 81. First thing I notice? Hollywood Video is gone. There's a Chipotle there now.
The Lutheran church where we had Scouts is still there. As is the graveyard across the street. The trailer that seemed a permanent resident in the parking lot for so many years with "Troop 542" is absent.
Further down, the DQ/now All American Recreation...site of many post-baseball parfaits is overrun with weeds.
The hotel is now a Ramada with waterpark. Charley Goodnight's is now a beach themed bar. Congratulations, Courtney and Peter...(On the sign out front, folks)
The church across from the Schulz's is still there. The ball park in front is gone, as is the bushes where we made forts. The last I remember, I used to vote in my district there when I turned 18.
Hotchkisses, Hengs, Lawreneces, Putnams, Skoogs, Dixons, Rikimotos, Speckmans, Emmons, Desrudes...all still in place. The siding is different on some, as is the shingles. A lot of "For Sale" signs. I circle my cul-de-sac to where ma and pa last sold their home in 2006. I see toys next to the neighbors (Illgen, Johnson, Peterson, Casperson...very nordic) and smack dab in the middle of my old lawn is another "For Sale" sign. 3 years later.
My elementary school is now an elementary school and rec center. My junior high is kinda the same. As is the old auditorium/theater I did my very first play...I head up 69th and not much has changed. Maranatha? Site of my big bro's first job? Still exists. In fact, nothing has changed much (Korean Evangelical Church? Check. Health Partners? Check. Post Office? Check) until you hit 69th and Brooklyn Blvd when the old Tasty outlet and Pop Shoppe shopping mall have made way for a Culver's and Subway.
Then I hit Mound cemetery after heading up a ways. I pass streets like "Georgia"..."France" (France. France! I sometimes forget my home town shared something with the Southwest suburb corner of 50th and France which neighbored my Uptown years!) and I pull in. Mom, Biggie, and I used to grab pastries from the Tastee outlet and come up there. We called the cemetary "Lambie" because of a lamb that rested on top of a tombstone. It'd be a while before I realized a lamb meant it was a grave marking for a child. A kid. Like I was. With my mini-glazed outlet donuts in their blue fold over box.
I say "Hi" to Eric.
I drive a little. I try and remember where the spot was that I remembered shortly after he passed where I saw the grave of a junior high girl (what was her name?) and it floored my 19 year old self at the time.
It's drizzling. And I realize that I'm a 34 year old man, who has just came from spending quality time with his extended family, answering family questions of how old I am/how the house is/how is Moda/etc...and I'm in a cemetery in my 15 minutes away home town.
In the rain.
I say "Bye" to Eric. And drive away. Past the industrial park that used to house the original factory of this little device called "Rollerblades" and a crappy baggy pants favored by bodybuilders, professional wrestlers, and d-bags called "Zubaz". I spy with my little eye Palmer Lake park where Ro, Dad, and I would walk Duchess with back packs full of Softner Salt to train for our backpacking trek of '89. Earle Brown is still there. So is the restaurant. And the Super 8. Aurther Treacher's Seafood/La Casita/...whatever it turned into is gutted and has a "Coming Soon" sign in front. I'm toodling some more. I need to go home.
Home, home. To Nordeast. To my garden. My freshly shorn lawn which, now, is almost glowing green. My cat. My roommate. My bed.
My home.
But...
Today we met the extended fam out at the OG in the Grove. I love our get togethers nowadays more than when I was a kid/teens/20's because I feel like there is a sense of candor now that I'm older that was never prevalent- Example? Today , the Lowry Bridge went down. And while I was elbowing my way through conversations about how I wanted to be there on my bike, my aunt quietly told me about how many trips she took in the late 50's early 60's to visit my uncle when they lived in North. Huh...I did not know this. And I love them for sharing.
Heading to the Grove, however, I chose to leave a lil' early so that I could make a personal side trip through my old nabe. Okay, so per normal I left late but was able to make it up Brooklyn Blvd which I titled "The Long Way" to the OG. And oh my, how things have changed. After dinner, I managed to have a maudlyn trip back home where I could really be a quizzacle investigator of my "old life". See, I realized that I've segmented so much of my wee existance into "BP years", "College/Uptown Years"/"NE years" etc that I kinda feel I don't respect the changes that happen.
So I toodle.
I toodle up Brooklyn Blvd. Taking a right on Jolly Lane after HWY 81. First thing I notice? Hollywood Video is gone. There's a Chipotle there now.
The Lutheran church where we had Scouts is still there. As is the graveyard across the street. The trailer that seemed a permanent resident in the parking lot for so many years with "Troop 542" is absent.
Further down, the DQ/now All American Recreation...site of many post-baseball parfaits is overrun with weeds.
The hotel is now a Ramada with waterpark. Charley Goodnight's is now a beach themed bar. Congratulations, Courtney and Peter...(On the sign out front, folks)
The church across from the Schulz's is still there. The ball park in front is gone, as is the bushes where we made forts. The last I remember, I used to vote in my district there when I turned 18.
Hotchkisses, Hengs, Lawreneces, Putnams, Skoogs, Dixons, Rikimotos, Speckmans, Emmons, Desrudes...all still in place. The siding is different on some, as is the shingles. A lot of "For Sale" signs. I circle my cul-de-sac to where ma and pa last sold their home in 2006. I see toys next to the neighbors (Illgen, Johnson, Peterson, Casperson...very nordic) and smack dab in the middle of my old lawn is another "For Sale" sign. 3 years later.
My elementary school is now an elementary school and rec center. My junior high is kinda the same. As is the old auditorium/theater I did my very first play...I head up 69th and not much has changed. Maranatha? Site of my big bro's first job? Still exists. In fact, nothing has changed much (Korean Evangelical Church? Check. Health Partners? Check. Post Office? Check) until you hit 69th and Brooklyn Blvd when the old Tasty outlet and Pop Shoppe shopping mall have made way for a Culver's and Subway.
Then I hit Mound cemetery after heading up a ways. I pass streets like "Georgia"..."France" (France. France! I sometimes forget my home town shared something with the Southwest suburb corner of 50th and France which neighbored my Uptown years!) and I pull in. Mom, Biggie, and I used to grab pastries from the Tastee outlet and come up there. We called the cemetary "Lambie" because of a lamb that rested on top of a tombstone. It'd be a while before I realized a lamb meant it was a grave marking for a child. A kid. Like I was. With my mini-glazed outlet donuts in their blue fold over box.
I say "Hi" to Eric.
I drive a little. I try and remember where the spot was that I remembered shortly after he passed where I saw the grave of a junior high girl (what was her name?) and it floored my 19 year old self at the time.
It's drizzling. And I realize that I'm a 34 year old man, who has just came from spending quality time with his extended family, answering family questions of how old I am/how the house is/how is Moda/etc...and I'm in a cemetery in my 15 minutes away home town.
In the rain.
I say "Bye" to Eric. And drive away. Past the industrial park that used to house the original factory of this little device called "Rollerblades" and a crappy baggy pants favored by bodybuilders, professional wrestlers, and d-bags called "Zubaz". I spy with my little eye Palmer Lake park where Ro, Dad, and I would walk Duchess with back packs full of Softner Salt to train for our backpacking trek of '89. Earle Brown is still there. So is the restaurant. And the Super 8. Aurther Treacher's Seafood/La Casita/...whatever it turned into is gutted and has a "Coming Soon" sign in front. I'm toodling some more. I need to go home.
Home, home. To Nordeast. To my garden. My freshly shorn lawn which, now, is almost glowing green. My cat. My roommate. My bed.
My home.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sometimes they beach themselves when they're sad.
(Not pictured- Soaked through Costco tighty whities. Thanks, Moda. If you had sound-o-vision, you'd probably have heard me snoring.)
Memorial Day weekend 2009. (The remaining pics may be found on Frassbook, for the curious)
You have no idea how much I was looking forward to it. Really. The hours FLEW by on Friday and it was all I could do not to sprint out of the office to the LRT. We started the weekend fairly easy. We grilled a bit. Watched "Frost/Nixon" (excellent, btw) and made vows to take it relatively easy. Outside of a party for Moda's cast in South Mpls, and a boat trip on Memorial Day proper, it was ease...jogging...cleaning...gardening. Easy.
Well it turned out that I found someone at the party that grew up in the small (tiny) hometown we'd frequent where my gramma lived down in IA. When I heard it mentioned, my jaw dropped and we started drinking more beers, nibbling more lamb bites, and frassin' about who we knew. It was surreal. And I didn't end up getting home until the wee, weeeeee hours. And I still had to get up and make us a Memorial Day breakfast and hop down to Boom Island marina relatively early. Needless to say, our 8 am wake up call was marred with my feeling groggy and tired as all heck.
And then...we start cocktailing.
So D and KT were ready. Really ready. They had two coolers full of food and libations, a grill, a full tank of gas, and a day of fun in the sun planned. I had brought four beers that I figured would take us through the day but ooooohhh no. By the time we docked at the island, we had out pre-made gin and vodka martinis with stuffed olives, champagne, beer, and mojito's. I was having a GREAT old time scampering around barefoot when I took a fallen tree up over a pond that had formed when the river was higher. Long story short, I grabbed a dry branch which snapped and I took a header into the festering moat. Fully clothed. With wallet and cell phone deep in my buttoned pockets.
Winner.
I was lucky that it was about 5.5 feet deep. I was lucky a dead and bloated beaver didn't break my fall. I was unlucky that my phone is ruined. And that I spent several hours in my tightie whities sobering up on a blanket while my clothes...kinda...dried out. I'm just glad KT was a witness otherwise it'd have been chalked upto "Oh..dummy. You were buzzed and trying to play Spider Man you dope!" Swear. I had it under control. It was like in a movie. Except I lounged in my underpants for several hours afterward. And there were no leeches, thankfully, ala' "Stand by Me".
Wooooooooo...
7 hours, a mild case of sun stroke and exhaustion later it was all I could do to get showered and snuggle in to watch a little "Choke" before sleep took over. Getting up this morning was an epic, EPIC struggle. And I felt like a$$ all day at the office. The gut rot of mixing. I deserved it. I did. No one to blame but myself. And my healthy pre-summer lifestyle took the bench while I did the famous Baby P debauch routine.
Sigh. Hope y'all had good ones, kids. I don't get a three day weekend now until September. Frass.
Summah Lovin....
Is here. Truly. And I have high hopes that this summer will be a grand summer. The familiar feeling that starts off with plastic peeled off of the windows and allows a cleansing breeze to waft through your home. Some things that have got me positively glowing for this summer will comprise the bulleted content of today's blog. So read on, and let's start our summer off right:
The mower is out and has been tuned. Already I've had two epic mows, and already I need to fill the gas can to power me through the remainder of the summer. Edging has been made, and the impervious weed barrier underneath the cedar chips has failed in the sense that it is more creeping Charlie than mulch. My new lilacs, planted in 2005/06 are still budding. A good sign indeed. Outside of napalm, a good creeping Charlie remedy would be appreciated. The ginormous boxelder tree in my backyard is dropping whirligigs by the ton, and I've made a careful note to keep the herb pots cleared lest they get choked out MMA style like the cilantro and mint of 2008. I've sprayed weed killer, ant killer, and have been brewing ideas from other gardens I've spied on my daily jogs.
How doth my garden grow? Well, thank you. The garlic bulbs were bigger than my tulips in the front planters (RIP, btw) and we had milk jugs protecting the hydroponic tomatoes Moda was gifted at work. A trip to the Mill City and Lyndale Farmers markets yielded the following bounty:
The mower is out and has been tuned. Already I've had two epic mows, and already I need to fill the gas can to power me through the remainder of the summer. Edging has been made, and the impervious weed barrier underneath the cedar chips has failed in the sense that it is more creeping Charlie than mulch. My new lilacs, planted in 2005/06 are still budding. A good sign indeed. Outside of napalm, a good creeping Charlie remedy would be appreciated. The ginormous boxelder tree in my backyard is dropping whirligigs by the ton, and I've made a careful note to keep the herb pots cleared lest they get choked out MMA style like the cilantro and mint of 2008. I've sprayed weed killer, ant killer, and have been brewing ideas from other gardens I've spied on my daily jogs.
How doth my garden grow? Well, thank you. The garlic bulbs were bigger than my tulips in the front planters (RIP, btw) and we had milk jugs protecting the hydroponic tomatoes Moda was gifted at work. A trip to the Mill City and Lyndale Farmers markets yielded the following bounty:
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
On the other hand...let's Trek.
A whim.
Moda had rehearsal. She'd stated vehemently she'd not want to see it. Vehemently. (For the record...I wasn't vehement when I said I'd rather see "Wolfie" than "The Soloist"...I was just buzzed)
So.
When I get back from a Monday jog...mowing the lawn...weeding...cleaning and dusting the house...canvassing...I'm ready to shower and go to bed...and I see one...ONE person's FB status saying they would be at my neighborhood art-house theatre seeing "The Trek"
Well F#ck.
So I went.
This will be shorter than the previous review, promise.
I grew up, not only on the Wars that were in the Stars, but the Trek.
We watched the cartoon.
We had phase...
F#ck that.
It was great. I don't think I've grinned like an idiot from ear to ear at a movie in a long time. He did it right. Folks are saying "Bond" and "Batman" are in the same league, I'm gonna argue differently-
Bond was great. Really great. And it made one of the best thriller spy films to date.
Batman 1 and 2 the same. I mean, we were at the same theater and my girlfriend and roommate were crying. At a SUPERHERO movie. Good stuff.
This one...it made me smile. It made me remember how much fun it was when the Winnebago went from the Millennium Falcon to the Enterprise when we were all 11-13 and "Jedi" had been out of the theatres for years. When our dirtbikes led our "Away Team" missions. When I owned the patches for all of the Starfleet area's of office. (I probably still have "officer" and "science officer" patches somewhere)...heck I remembered my dad taking RSVP and I to the Camden theatre to see "The Motion Picture" and not getting it...at all.
I even cried a little during "Wrath of Khan". Of course, I cried during "Top Gun" 4 years later. A big exposed nerve, I am.
Did I have issues? Sure. I won't spoil'em, and they sure weren't part of the original canon, but they were never enough to take me away from the story. And the story, is what I think they got right.
If you're a "Trek" nerd, or are mildly familiar with the original series/movies you have no choice but to see it. If you've never seen a "Trek" film/show etc...don't worry. This is all the primer you'll need.
Moda had rehearsal. She'd stated vehemently she'd not want to see it. Vehemently. (For the record...I wasn't vehement when I said I'd rather see "Wolfie" than "The Soloist"...I was just buzzed)
So.
When I get back from a Monday jog...mowing the lawn...weeding...cleaning and dusting the house...canvassing...I'm ready to shower and go to bed...and I see one...ONE person's FB status saying they would be at my neighborhood art-house theatre seeing "The Trek"
Well F#ck.
So I went.
This will be shorter than the previous review, promise.
I grew up, not only on the Wars that were in the Stars, but the Trek.
We watched the cartoon.
We had phase...
F#ck that.
It was great. I don't think I've grinned like an idiot from ear to ear at a movie in a long time. He did it right. Folks are saying "Bond" and "Batman" are in the same league, I'm gonna argue differently-
Bond was great. Really great. And it made one of the best thriller spy films to date.
Batman 1 and 2 the same. I mean, we were at the same theater and my girlfriend and roommate were crying. At a SUPERHERO movie. Good stuff.
This one...it made me smile. It made me remember how much fun it was when the Winnebago went from the Millennium Falcon to the Enterprise when we were all 11-13 and "Jedi" had been out of the theatres for years. When our dirtbikes led our "Away Team" missions. When I owned the patches for all of the Starfleet area's of office. (I probably still have "officer" and "science officer" patches somewhere)...heck I remembered my dad taking RSVP and I to the Camden theatre to see "The Motion Picture" and not getting it...at all.
I even cried a little during "Wrath of Khan". Of course, I cried during "Top Gun" 4 years later. A big exposed nerve, I am.
Did I have issues? Sure. I won't spoil'em, and they sure weren't part of the original canon, but they were never enough to take me away from the story. And the story, is what I think they got right.
If you're a "Trek" nerd, or are mildly familiar with the original series/movies you have no choice but to see it. If you've never seen a "Trek" film/show etc...don't worry. This is all the primer you'll need.
Wolferine...a review...
I feel bad for dumping stupid work malfeasance on the masses. Last weekend Moda and I met some buddies for mega-cheap HH at Stella's (Which, my fish loving buddies, should all hit. It ain't called the Oyster Orgy for nothing.) Afterwards, aglow with cheap oysters and 2-fers we wandered over to the Lagoon where I grumped Moda into seeing "Wolferine"...Why this popcorn flick was playing there, I don't know. That instinct should have trumped my inner nerd, but the wine made me bold. I demanded. And Moda, the champ, said "yes"...
I'm not gonna talk about the film too much. I wanna keep this short. I'm one of the few that likes certain movies that folks like to gang up and hate. Me? I find the LOVE. Star Wars prequels? F@ck you. There were lightsaber fights. If I had to wait until floppy Jar Jar left, fine. If I had to wade through the EMO acting stylings of Hayden Pantyterry then fine.
Then I realized the power of "3"- X3? out of the hands of Singer? It wasn't an abortion...it just was a muddled good idea. "Pirates"? Glut. Way. Too. Glut. "Blade 3"? Well...let's chalk "Wolverine" up to a case of Reynolds-itis.
I like Ryan Reynolds. He's a gen X Chevy Chase. Smart Ass. And he can be charming in the right vehicle. And for Deadpool? The Merc with a Mouth? Perfect.
Except...okay, here are my analogies:
"Wolvie" was like that kid in High School. Popular. With everyone. Easygoing. Athletic. Coulda probably gotten an athletic scholarship to...oh, maybe a Div 2 school. But they choose academia. And accepted a full-ride to, oh, Northwestern. Even after High School...and beyond...folks remember that kid fondly.
Except around 2nd semester, he agree's to go to a party. His buddies goad him into getting stoned. Pretty soon, their Saturdays revolve around the bong and "Real Genius" on DVD. This kid drops out after 2nd semester. Moves back home. He becomes..."The Case"...the one who shows up at home with 7-8 of his "buddies" back from 2-1's at Applebee's. He ends up working a dead-end job...all that hope and prospect...gone...Washed out.
See...I KNOW what they wanted to do with "Wolfie"...They just dissapointed the frack out of me. Washed it out with too many characters in the hope they'd appease hardcore nerds in order to be true to the source materieal. In fact, Wolfie was the least interesting character out there. I mean, they tried to establish a minimum of cannon in order to make this...but one of the earliest lines he spoke in the 1st movie when he was asked if his claws hurt to come out? He says "Every Time"...Well Mo-Fo made a point to pop out his claws every chance he got. Hurt...indeed.
That's not to say I didn't like it. There was a lot TO like, but I liked it because I knew what they were trying to do. I would have hated it as a newbie. I would have been confused. And what would have cut down on that confusion is by making this High School Hopeful's useless stoner buddies...I mean.. Wolfie's Weapon X cronies (Gambit, Deadpool, um...Gun-Guy...Black-Eyed Pea's Cowboy...Wannabe Fattie...) non-existent. For an origin story, it really made us try an look away from the facts.
And more blood. Weird, I know, but considering the two characters combating each other the whole movie have...um, claws? You'd think they'd make it a little bloodier. Heck, the first "X" had more bloodshed. This? Neutered.
Sad thing is...I'll probably still buy it an re-watch it. : (
I'm not gonna talk about the film too much. I wanna keep this short. I'm one of the few that likes certain movies that folks like to gang up and hate. Me? I find the LOVE. Star Wars prequels? F@ck you. There were lightsaber fights. If I had to wait until floppy Jar Jar left, fine. If I had to wade through the EMO acting stylings of Hayden Pantyterry then fine.
Then I realized the power of "3"- X3? out of the hands of Singer? It wasn't an abortion...it just was a muddled good idea. "Pirates"? Glut. Way. Too. Glut. "Blade 3"? Well...let's chalk "Wolverine" up to a case of Reynolds-itis.
I like Ryan Reynolds. He's a gen X Chevy Chase. Smart Ass. And he can be charming in the right vehicle. And for Deadpool? The Merc with a Mouth? Perfect.
Except...okay, here are my analogies:
"Wolvie" was like that kid in High School. Popular. With everyone. Easygoing. Athletic. Coulda probably gotten an athletic scholarship to...oh, maybe a Div 2 school. But they choose academia. And accepted a full-ride to, oh, Northwestern. Even after High School...and beyond...folks remember that kid fondly.
Except around 2nd semester, he agree's to go to a party. His buddies goad him into getting stoned. Pretty soon, their Saturdays revolve around the bong and "Real Genius" on DVD. This kid drops out after 2nd semester. Moves back home. He becomes..."The Case"...the one who shows up at home with 7-8 of his "buddies" back from 2-1's at Applebee's. He ends up working a dead-end job...all that hope and prospect...gone...Washed out.
See...I KNOW what they wanted to do with "Wolfie"...They just dissapointed the frack out of me. Washed it out with too many characters in the hope they'd appease hardcore nerds in order to be true to the source materieal. In fact, Wolfie was the least interesting character out there. I mean, they tried to establish a minimum of cannon in order to make this...but one of the earliest lines he spoke in the 1st movie when he was asked if his claws hurt to come out? He says "Every Time"...Well Mo-Fo made a point to pop out his claws every chance he got. Hurt...indeed.
That's not to say I didn't like it. There was a lot TO like, but I liked it because I knew what they were trying to do. I would have hated it as a newbie. I would have been confused. And what would have cut down on that confusion is by making this High School Hopeful's useless stoner buddies...I mean.. Wolfie's Weapon X cronies (Gambit, Deadpool, um...Gun-Guy...Black-Eyed Pea's Cowboy...Wannabe Fattie...) non-existent. For an origin story, it really made us try an look away from the facts.
And more blood. Weird, I know, but considering the two characters combating each other the whole movie have...um, claws? You'd think they'd make it a little bloodier. Heck, the first "X" had more bloodshed. This? Neutered.
Sad thing is...I'll probably still buy it an re-watch it. : (
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