two dolla

it was a tradition this week

Pretty much every night this week, The General and I started out watching TV in the evening. This resulted in me falling asleep in what was usually a very special looking position on the chaise lounge. It’s not conducive for doing much around the house, but I’m definitely getting used to sleeping at a angle that nobody can get comfortable in.

So, I don’t have anything to say or much time to say it before midnight roles around. I did find this awesome picture I want to share. It’s a picture of downtown Minneapolis taken from pretty darn close to my work parking lot and I love it very much.

(via bigboxcar)

the west end is like a mecca for puking douchers and drunk skanks

After we gorged ourselves with Thai food tonight, The General and I decided to go see a movie and ended up at Footloose at the ShowPlace ICON in St. Louis Park’s West End. We’ve done this a couple of other times this past summer, both times with free movie tickets and usually at earlier show times. The trick about this particular theater is the crowd you have to navigate through to get into the theater. Once you’re in, it’s safe. You can avoid the wobbling drunk women in their 40s who are window shopping at Hot Mama after a night at Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and you can steer clear of the two bros we ran into tonight who were dressed all in black, complete with sunglasses on… at 11:30pm. They were either planning on robbing Charming Charlie or spending the evening carousing about at Sopranos Italian Kitchen.

Tonight, on our walk from the theater doors to the parking garage elevator, we had to navigate around to fresh piles of vomit. We got in the elevator with two girls/ladies. One was barefoot and complaining that she had to wear heels because she had chunky legs and the other drunk and not wanting to talk to Chunky Legs about the person that apparently didn’t text back when he said he was going to. We stepped over a couple more vomit puddles in the parking garage, one that had been halfheartedly hosed down. The chunks were gone, but you could still see what it was, you know?

And finally, as we were rolling out of the parking garage, I nearly clipped a couple of gals that were walking down the ramp, where it’s clearly marked no pedestrians. I guess you’d have to be able to read that word to know what it means. I had my window down, so I politely reminded them that it wasn’t a sidewalk they were stumbling through. One of the classy ladies looked at me and said/shouted/slurred, “SERIOUSLY?” and, yeah, I was serious, or I wouldn’t have said it, you dilweed. She gave me the finger, I called her the c-word and drove off. Normal Saturday night, right?

The thing about it being winter time is it’s a little tricky. In the summer, you can see the patios of people potentially getting trashed out of their mind at Cooper or the people hoping Toby Keith might actually show up at his bar where they serve beer in tiny mason jars and you can play cornhole on the dance floor. If that doesn’t make you want to pull on your Ropers and head to suburban Minneapolis, I don’t know what does. When it’s cold out, they’re all shoved inside and you don’t know about them until it’s too late.

I love the ShowPlace ICON. They’re never busy and you can pick out your seats before you get there. The staff is super friendly and they have butter flavored salt. I don’t know how else you could beat that.

so i want my lynx championship gear, right?

But that might be a little trickier than I’d hoped and I think it’s getting me a little riled up.

In case you’ve been under a rock, my favorite WNBA team won the Championship last week. I’m obviously beyond thrilled about that and wanted to procure some championship gear. I don’t know what. Maybe a shirt or a hat or whatever. Something to be like, “Hey, aMinnesotasports team was actually AWESOME for once in the last 20 years! And it was a lady team, too!” Female and 612 Pride? YES, PLEASE.

The Minnesota Lynx tweeted recently that the store in the skyway that’s attached to the Target Center (where the Lynx play) is opening back up and will be open until 5pm today, so fans can get their championship accoutrement. And then it’s closed for the day.

I, perhaps feeling a little annoyed, because once again the WNBA is getting the shaft on availability to fans (see TV schedules, lack of merchandise anywhere, etc.), I responded with this: “And then what? It’s closed until next season and we don’t get any other chance to get championship gear?”

To explain a little bit, this store that everything is available at is a joke. It’s only open during the NBA season, and I’ve only ever seen it open before and after Timberwolves games. Well, right now, and for the past few years, the Timberwolves have looked like my 7th grade basketball team (Go, Sedalia Middle School Wildcats!) and they’re also on strike, so couldn’t the Lynx/Timberwolves organization as a whole use some more income somehow? You know, by selling merchandise that belongs to a winning team? (A winning team that doesn’t have criminal rap sheets, by the way.)

This morning, the Lynx tweet back to tell me that I “Can always buy on wnba.com”.  Yeah? Really? The internet, you say? What’s that?

I mean, I don’t expect the WNBA to ever be as readily available on TV or in stores or whatever, but considering we just won the f’ing championship, had 15,000 people in the stands during the finals, and had close to that many people milling about downtown during the championship parade, you’d think maybe we’d try to encourage this recent growth and take advantage of something that could bring a heck of a lot of awareness to the team, to the league, and to any and all female athletes.

I can’t help but be annoyed as a fan and a little bit offended as a woman.

it’s soooo hot. how hot is it?

I’m from Missouri. In Missouri, it’s normal to see temps above 100 and humidity above a kabillion percent. Yes, in my 9 years in the Twin Cities, I’ve gotten a little spoiled in the summer. But these past few days have been perfect reminders as to why I hate Missouri summers.

It’s been so hot in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area over the last couple of days:

1. TC Bear (the Minnesota Twins mascot) melted.
2. A local TV station baked cookies on the dashboard of a car (which should also serve as a reminder that you’re a f’ing moron and deserved to be kicked in the gonads if you leave your dogs/kids in a parked car during the summer).
3. “I’m hot” has become a common answer that people give me when I say, “How are you today?” over the phone.
4. Riley refuses to go outside to pee unless you push him out there.
5. A local weatherdouche has coined a phrase: Humigeddon. Simply translated: Prepare to sweat your balls off.
6. I have managed to catch a cold. It’s kept me homebound for three nights, instead of visiting my friends (the treadmill, bike, elliptical and swimming pool) at the gym.
7. The Twins’ TV guys tried to fry an egg on their desk during an afternoon game.

wnba opening night: lynx are in l.a.!

All of my normal Friday night routine has come to a halt. It’s opening night of the 2011 WNBA season and the Minnesota Lynx are in LA about to take on a healthy Candace Parker and the Sparks. For some absolutely asinine reason, it’s not on TV unless you happen to have NBA TV and who the hell has that? I’m livestreaming it from WNBA.com’s LiveAccess. And you’re damn right I’m liveblogging this. FRIDAY NIGHT LADY BASKETBALL PARTY. (I’d make that blinking text if I remembered how.)

Pregame Notes: The announcers are bad and it’s just pregame, so I’m hoping it gets better when they’re not forced to make idle chitchat. Maya Moore’s first regular season game is tonight. She’s got some major expectations to fill tonight and the rest of the season, so it should be interesting to see how she meets those… especially since she couldn’t get the Huskies to NCAA championship this past year. Just sayin’. Also, I still love Coach Gillom more than I’ll ever love the Lynx’ current coach.

Starters for the Lynx: Lindsey Whalen, Seimone Augustus, Maya Moore, Rebekah Brunson and Taj McWilliams-Franklin.

Starters for the Sparks: Noelle Quinn, Candace Parker, Tina Thompson, Ticha Penicheiro and DeLisha Milton-Jones.

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post-tornado north minneapolis needs our help

Tornado in our neck of the woods yesterday and by our neck of the woods, I mean some of the paths that we walk or bike were blocked by trees that had trunks as wide as my leg is long. I didn’t make it must past the park, because a huge part of North Minneapolis was on curfew after 9pm and I didn’t want to get too involved in being in a neighborhood where I didn’t live after curfew.

This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I was annoyed that the organic face stuff that my face was washed with yesterday ended up causing an 8th grade acne breakout along my hairline and also annoyed that anytime I try to get my haircut, I end up looking like I should be getting ready to film GI Jane 2: Electric Boogaloo. Hello, first world problems.

Then I drove to work. I got detoured a couple of times and wound up driving down a street that made my heart drop into my chest. An entire block was full of houses that had been severely damaged by yesterday’s storms. Trees had fallen through roofs, windows were shattered, garages and sheds flattened. One house had what looked like their entire wardrobes dumped into the middle of the backyard. There were people trying to sort through things and figure out what could even be salvaged.  And I here I am, 15 minutes earlier, irritated about the amount of hair product I had to use.

If you want to help, please check out urbanhomeworks.com. They’re organizing clean up efforts today and the second I get off work, I’m finding out how I can help. North Minneapolis is not a community full of affluent folks that can just replace a car or move into a new home. There were 200 people that were in shelters last night, which as a friend of mine said on Twitter, that’s 200 people that don’t have anywhere else to go or anyone else to help them.

our american burger bar anniversary dinner

The fine dining of hamburgers and beer wasn’t exactly our first choice for dinner to celebrate our 3rd anniversary.* We’d originally planned on hitting up Blackbird in south Minneapolis for dinner and then heading to a show in downtown Minneapolis, which started at 8pm. A haircut for The Kid, a trip to Old Navy, and a trip to Target filled our afternoon a bit too much and it was 6:15 before we were ready to leave the house. We decided to head downtown and, if nothing else, just grab a drink and an appetizer and worry about dinner later.

We weighed our downtown options and because Rock Bottom Brewery is always busy and/or always too slow to serve anything in an hour and a half, we opted to check out The American Burger Bar. The downtown location is relatively new and it also happened to be right across the street from the theater we’d be heading to later.

The hostess offered up some window seating, which is always prime on Hennepin Avenue, so we grabbed a couple stools against the bar and a server was over to us shortly. She guaranteed we’d have time to eat and still make it to our 8pm show, so we ordered… what else? Burgers. I went the American Classic road and, like she does anywhere there’s a burger involved, The General opted for a burger involving bacon and bleu cheese.

The food took a while, giving us plenty of time to mock the guy that sat next to The General and ordered nothing but a milkshake and the other guy who was taking up the entire bar telling all the single (and not so single) ladies to call him Sam. If I heard “Call me Sam!” one more time, I was close to dry humping him. To the bar’s defense, the Twins game had just finished after 11 innings and Prairie Home Companion had just ended next door, so there were crowds of all varieties filing in and out. I ran into a former co-worker of mine who was taking his kids and parents to the same restaurant after the game, so clearly it was something he deemed somewhat kid-appropriate.

Our burgers came with skinny fries and we love skinny fries. They were delicious. The burgers were perfectly cooked, but they probably should be since the word burger is in the name of the restaurant.

For a Saturday night, we didn’t have to wait long at all for a restaurant downtown. The service was fast and friendly, without chatting my ear off about shit I don’t care about, and that’s my favorite kind of service. For under $30, we both had burgers, fries and a drink apiece. So, essentially, we’re sold and have already made plans to visit again.

*This is a lesbian anniversary we’re talking about here, so that’s clearly about 24 regular years.

And this was my evening yesterday.

Minnesota sports overload!!!

Afternoon at the office

This’ll do just fine.

tonight I got greasy

It wasn’t by choice.

I ran home from work long enough to change clothes, say hi to the dogs, and cash in on the 14 (including rollover) hugs The General owes me, and then I headed out the door again to do a home visit for Pet Project Rescue. This little jaunt barely got a mile down the road before I felt Danger the Vibe starting to limp along.

I stopped at a stoplight, got out to run around the car to see what was going on, but didn’t really see anything. I got another couple of blocks and pulled into the lot of the closest public library. My damn right driver’s side tire was flat.

I pulled out the donut, jacked up the car, and started the process of taking off the tire. It required standing on the lug wrench thing to loosen up those bad boys, but I eventually had everything to go except getting the wheel off. Easier blogged about than done.

Yanking, pulling, wiggling, you name it and I tried it. Eventually, a guy that was waiting for someone inside the library came over to offer his help. He walked up to me, said, “Que¿” and just jumped right into clanking things against the wheel in these very specific spots like he’d done it a million times.

He didn’t so much as say a word until the flat tire was off, the donut was on, and everything was back in my hatch. I said, “thanks” and he reached out to shake my hand. I took a chance on my limited Spanish skills and winced on the inside when I said “Gracias”. I hate being that person.

“De nada”, he said and, I kid you not, he had the biggest smile ever on his face, even after he was crouched down in the snow and ice and single digit temps hammering away on some stranger’s car.

I love my neighborhood and I love that the friendliest, most helpful people we have encountered have made us realize exactly why we were excited about moving to North Minneapolis.

And now I have to get my 2nd new tire in less than a year. Lame.