two dolla

joe mauer sells magazines

Hey, you guys know who my favorite baseball player is, right? C’mon, now. It’s Joe Mauer. You knew that.

Well, homeboy is on the cover of August 7th’s Sports Illustrated. Let’s forget about the Sports Illustrated Cover Jinx for a couple of minutes, because I don’t even want to think about that in the middle of a playoff run.

There’s just a problem with me locating this particular issue of SI. Joe Mauer is from St. Paul, MN. His family still lives here. I live approximately 9 minutes from St. Paul. Everyone and their mother loves Joe Mauer, and therefore, everyone and their mother is digging high and low for a copy of this magazine.

After trips to two Targets, various gas stations, and a Barnes & Noble, I’ve come up dry. My brother drug his non-girlfriend into various stores in Kansas City looking for the same magazine, but got nowhere. Nowhere with the magazine; I doubt nowhere with his non-girlfriend.

I’m going to keep looking, because that is what I do. But if any of the rest of you happened to stumble upon this particular issue, we would totally be BFF if you picked it up for me. I’ll glady reimburse you, and if you’re not local, I would totally pay postage for you to mail it to me.

I just, you know, want it really bad.

la vida del apartamento es buena

You know me, I always have a lot to write about and if I could find the time, you’d probably get close to 2098 posts a day. Call me chatty. Today, I’m feeling particularly chatty about my humble abode.

There was no ham-throwing or loud-partying next door last night and no tiny dog on the loose taunting my dog. Although, it probably would have been easier to deal with.
Yesterday morning, I woke up and went into the bathroom. I noticed there was water just about covering my entire bathroom floor. Neat, I though, and then tried to remember if I had perhaps felt the need to take a shower in the middle of the night and maybe forgot to close the shower curtain in the process.  I was pretty sure I hadn’t, but I was too tired to do anything about it, so I went back to bed.

Fast forward to maybe 4pm yesterday evening, when I actually needed to take a shower before heading to the Vikings/Chiefs scrimmage/practice thing. That’s when I noticed that there was a beautiful little waterfall trickling down my wall from the apartment above mine, causing my beautiful white popcorn ceiling to develope a neat brownish stain.
Riley and I walked over to the apartment office to let them know. This was at 3pm. They can’t get to it until Monday, because they have to check with the people above me to see if something flooded. And they can’t do anything about it until then. (This is where I silently ran through every expletive I know.)

In the meantime, I get to keep my fingers crossed that someone above me doesn’t fall through my shower ceiling while they’re dropping the kids off at the pool. And I get to put on my galoshes and rain poncho anytime I need to pee.
I know, I know. It’s what you have to deal with when you live an apartment.