Loaf 'O Puke

This is head cheese from Kramarczek's. If you don't know what head cheese is, its something that Eastern Europeans invented a long time ago in the very admirable quest to get everything possible out of their pigs.



The list of ingredients is short, and includes tongue, snout, and of course gelatin(how else would a guy make meat jelly?).

Gelatinous slices of meat jelly made from the left over parts of the pigs head. I had plans to try it as well as photograph it, but upon retouching the photo at 100%, I think thats going to have to be indefinitely postponed. I decided to include a nice close-up, so anyone unfortunate enough to read this post doesn't think I'm a complete patsy.

Another day in Paradise.

A trip to the Knight Cap's Saturday meat raffle can be so very rewarding. Obviously, there is the opportunity to win quality products from a local butcher. Or, if your luck is like mine has been the last month, you're just donating cash to a good cause.



Or, if you keep your eyes open... REALLY open... you might be lucky enough to get a true grasp on some of the little idiosyncrasies that make a community what it is. I mean, what it REALLY is.





I guess I've been fortunate in that way as of late. Thats fucking splendid, cause I've been getting my ass kicked lately in the meat raffle.

Obento-YES!

Yeah, I haven't rapped about food in a while. Its not that I've stopped eating or anything, nor have I stopped taking pictures. I'm just handling some other shit and a man has to have priorities.

This, actually, was from a couple of weeks ago. I've just been involved, so I kind of forgot to post it. When I stumbled across the photos today, I pretty much said "Fuck me that looks good!"... so I figured I might as well post them.





I guess I'm doing something right if my own photos can surprise me and make me hungry. That just never happens with squirrels and guns and whatnot...

This is not a chess piece.

A large majority of my 3 readers are aware that I now live with 3 women. Jack Tripper ain't got shit on me. Overall, its a very genial living situation... very fucking spiffy.

As it were, though, all things are not without their failings. I found this occupying the space designated G4.



I didn't know what this was at first. Of course, with the disposition of mine as it is, and my priorities lying where they do, I thought it was a bullet. Maybe a new, awesome, street-legal squirrel annihilating motherfucker that can be shot out of something that my roommates bought me as an early christmas present. Something badass. Something that resembles this shit-canon.



Nope. It was a tampon...

Black Friday

I guess I'm just satisfied that I got to put money towards something that I'll actually remember on this, the biggest shopping day of the year.

You: Shitty plastic Chinese electronic noise-making crap fucker.

Me: Parking, Pocket Wizard rental, four drinks, and the best goddamn right hand man that a guy with little money could ask for.




The painted women were just a bonus.

To do, or not to do.

I'm not exactly in a financial position to be running out and dropping $200+ on an air rifle right now, but look at this fucking thing!



It may be an early x-mas for me. My gift would be a German-made, rodent killing machine par excellence. I could go into the specifics of this weapon, but that would be dorky. Also, it would distract from the real meaning of such a purchase. That meaning, of course, is not about killing squirrels or satisfying some sort of deranged blood-lust. Oh no. Its about community. Its about keeping our children safe. Its about a more prosperous future. We should consider it an investment into our commonwealth. An investment... in mankind.

The High Ground

What do you see when you see this picture?



A large, sprawling tree? A typical NE alley yard in fall? Just a standard-ass neighborhood... nothing stands out?

Well, I see a neighborhood that, an hour ago, was made that much safer for it's residents.



If you look back at the first photo, you might also see an advantageous sniper position. Its actually taken from a screenless mini-window in my closet! From here on out, I'm referring to it as Mount Olympus. I shall stand upon it, alone if I must.

The Physical

On Monday the 16th, I had my physical to see if I'm healthy enough to donate a kidney, and sane enough to know what I'm doing and what is involved. Its an involved process that they put non-directed donors through. When I say non-directed, I mean people like myself who want to donate a kidney but have no specified recipient of which they want to donate it to. The physical lasts 9 fucking hours.

Except for one last heart test, I passed.

I was going to see a lot of this over the corse of the day...



Blood tests up the arse.







Here are two of the many professionals that I established a relationship over the day. I haven't a bad thing to say about one of them.



Hiding my fear and pain behind a smile is one of my specialties. As is peeing into a cup.

Kneel!

Far too long have I been without a blender. Over a month ago, mine crapped on me and thus, no sauces, soups, or salsa verde has been made through the best season of the year to make said food stuffs from scratch.

One trip through the Unique Thrift Store can change lives...

BEHOLD!! The 850 watt, $9 beast blender that shall henceforth be know only as Shit Rock!

Lost kidney blog.

My 2 readers may remember a while back that I said something about donating a kidney. They may also remember that I said that I was going to blog about the whole process in hopes of bringing more attention to it and perhaps causing others to consider doing the same. Ah, those were the days...

Well, the plan is still in effect. Things have changed since then, though. At the time of that blog post, I was purely a non-directed donor with nothing but good intentions. With that post, I started telling people of my decision, and soon after started asking around to see if anyone I knew might know someone who needed one. Its at this point when things got, well, less romantic.

I could go into what has come to pass in great length. Instead, this e-mail that I just wrote will probably summarize it as well as anything I could now write. Its my second piece of correspondence with a man who is searching the country for his friend... a friend who needs a kidney that matches mine. It starts with me referencing a book he is writing about the process, as well as his desire to use a perspective of mine about 'playing god'.



So there, still in effect. The last thing I feel like I need to say is that I appreciate everyone who has had an opinion thus far on my decision. As for the Negative Nancys that I was referring to above? they're all friends and loved ones, and I think I know where their skepticism comes from as much or more than they do.

Ketchup

Oh ketchup...



Many years ago, my friend Mike and I made a mutual declaration. As fellow ketchup lovers, we both asserted that we would gladly forgo 5 years of our lives if the alternative meant living a life without ketchup. As I get older and the sand at the bottom of the metaphorical hourglass which is my life ever gets deeper, I've changed my perspective some.

I'll say 4 years. 3.5 max.

Exhibit B-1

So its Saturday. Beautiful day... flawless. Woke up early, got some work done on my computer, took my car to my parents and washed it under the perfect fall sun. I was even fortunate enough to eat a delicious, nutritious meal at the Modern with a good friend. Wow, everything is great, huh?

Yeah, thats until I attempt to top off this perfect day with a nice warm salt bath. I round the corner, and I see this...



Can you imagine the look on my fucking face?!?! I understand that a woman's hair falls out the same as everyone else's I even appreciate the effort taken by the offending party to keep this from clogging the drain. Neither of those notches on the yardstick of my rationality could prepare me, though, for what I assumed was an animal of shit-mongous proportions. Could have been a goddamn badger for all I knew. Or worse, that scandalous-ass creature who's name I shall not speak at the moment...

Fuck yeah!

So I meet this guy named Eric West a few weeks ago. Total renaissance man. We hit it off pretty well, and at some point he tells me that he has a motorcycle he wants to give me. Of course, I instantly forgot all about that and continued on with my life. Then he drops it on me again last week. Now this is sitting in the driveway.



I'm pretty sure that it needs very little. A little engine tuning. A new rear tire. A different seat. And, for christ's sake, some different bars. How were those ever cool looking?

New neighborhood... same rules.

Squirrels are squirrels, no matter what part of the city you're in. I vow to continue my campaign of cleaning up the streets and making the neighborhood safe for children by shooting as many of these motherfuckers as possible.

In my new neighborhood, there appears to be less shit bats than at my previous place. Perhaps I've just been missing them. Perhaps they received a memo from other squirrels to look out for the tall Irish/Polish/Norwegian motherfucker sticking his head out of random windows. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm not alone in this war. Maybe, hopefully, someone else out here cares about their city enough to do what needs to be done, as disturbing as it can be at times.



A word to anyone who views me with disgust for shooting these pieces of shit. Immediately after killing this thing, 2 more came to the scene. This was new to me. I felt fortunate, though, for obvious reasons. Was I going to get 3 in one day? Well, for whatever reason, I decided to observe the enemy for a while instead of shooting them. What I witnessed next was at once both educational and horrific. I saw one of the remaining squirrels attack the lifeless body of his fallen comrade.

Under what code of morality would this be acceptable? None, thats what. These are evil creatures...

What the Hell!

Eric, myself, and the royal women-folk in the 1700 household went to Jimmy's last night. I went home early, and in my slumber, I got a text message from Tiffany that read "make us some food manly man bitch". Unacceptable. When I awoke, I busted up her sleep only to find this...



What in the fuck? Am I the only one that finds this crazy? I you look closely and take inventory, you will find the following...

1 box of tissues
1 iPhone/charger
1 computer
1 giant fucking purse
1 jacket w/furry thing attached
1 unrecognizable black thing
1 paper bag

Hey Tiffany, I think I see some extra room that we can pile some more shit on the next time you fall asleep.

Sunday at bar (x)...

I finally made it to (x) on a Sunday morning. Many Sundays have I planned on going here, as they have a very special thing going. For the last 27-29 years, the owner of this establishment has been buying 100+ White Castles and handing them out for free every Sunday morning while all the good people of this fine country are at church, recanting their sins or something.



He has a plaque on the wall, from White Castle, signifying his patronage. He is also in the White Castle Hall of Fame. Who knew there even was such a thing...

Not my sock.

This is not my sock. I don't know whose sock it is, but it its not mine.



I found it in my laundry. These are the things that I can expect to see more of as my new living situation/journey evolves.

A New Chapter

I moved. Again. It seems like I have made moving a yearly thing. This time, though, promises to be different. This time, I'm living with two women. What have I done...

Actually, so far its been great. Both of my roommates are highly enjoyable, interesting, and adult people. They are also pretty goddamn hot, which is kind of a perk. We landed a 4 bedroom Victorian in my absolute favorite part of NE Minneapolis... 2 blocks from Jimmy's. The house is great, the landlord is nice, the disposal is fucking hi-tech, the window in my closet(sniper position #1) is perfect for killing squirrels, our furniture worked perfect... its just a pretty good situation all around.

There is a problem, though. Actually, there will be a problem. At least for my roommates, at some point. See, I'm used to either living alone, or with a dude who rarely woke up before noon. I don't like clothes on when I sleep. None. When I wake up, I tend to be on autopilot for the first 45 seconds or so, or however long it takes me to get to the bathroom. Here lies the problem for my roommates. One of these days, one of them will be up early, minding their own business and WHAM!... there's me in all my un-glory. Surely not the way they will want to start their day.



This, dear reader, is another issue we will be exploring. This is hair... Tiffany's hair. Tiffany's hair is beautiful, yes, but its also fucking everywhere. At least it seems like it to a guy who has had a crew cut for the last 15 years. Anyway, I'm going to be documenting it. This is Exhibit A.

Stasis

It seems like no matter what I do, I'm going to be forever burdened by circumstances that want to deny me of quality, reliable internet access. Whether it be roommates who don't seem up to be up to the task of staying on top of ONE bill, or technical problems that I have no idea how to remedy... the forces that be just don't want me online.

So yeah, I haven't been on top of my blog as of late. I haven't been keeping up with my email as of late. I'm having trouble changing over my bills. I'm not wasting nearly enough time online...

Here, though is a picture from one of my last showers in my former place. What every excellent house needs is a ledge of some sort in the shower.

Last goddamn game in the dome?

I've stated before that I can't stand the goddamn Metrodome because its true. As this may have been my last baseball game ever attended there, I figure I could at least send it off with a proper kick to the crotch.

Yes, I've had many good times there in my life, as well as seen many good games. I can't fucking stand when people get all sentimental(and I stress the mental) and feel the need to keep bringing up said good times as a reason I should respect the dome more than I do. As if those times somehow owed part of their being good to the dome. As if those times wouldn't have been jillions of times better in an outdoor stadium.

So, fuck it.

I have been fortunate to be able to attend quite a few games with Jeff in the last two years in his bitchin' season tickets. He was packing the kids this time. Despite what it looks like by this photo of me, they kept us in line.

Most effective weight loss program ever?

I've been engaged in the process of becoming a live kidney donor for the last 7-8 weeks now. I've filled out a grip of paper work, talked to a half dozen people on the phone, and passed my initial blood tests. I'm not sure, but I think this puts me about half way through the process.





So far, I'm signed up as a Non-Directed donor. This means that as of yet, I don't have anyone specifically to give my kidney to(kinda sad, huh?). Actually, this is kind of bullshit, though, because there are currently over 70,000 people who are slowly dying whilst on kidney dialysis. So unless someone I know has a friend or loved one in need, it'll be going to the next possible match on that long-ass list.

Next up is a Nov. 16th appointment at Fairview for an 8 hour physical complete with a psychological screening. I guess you could say that this is where its going to get really interesting.

I'm planning on making a separate blog about this whole experience, complete with photos of myself getting put through the whole goddamn ringer. Hopefully, I'll do the experience justice. Hopefully, the experience gets someone else thinking about doing the same thing.

Long weekend, day 3

I forgot to mention in my previous post that I went to Lebowski Fest the day before that. I don't have extended party weekends as much as I used to, but this one seemingly dropped out of heaven. A couple of years previous, and I may not have had the wherewithal to cut it off at 6 PM on Sunday. Its a new day, though, and thankfully I put an end to this shit before it got out of hand.

I was lucky enough to get time with some salt-of-the-earth motherfuckers this weekend. Here are a few of them, as well as some women who I don't know but couldn't deny.

The NE Mpls Mustache Bar Tour

Eric G put on the his first bar crawl on Saturday. The itinerary went NE Palace-Grumpy's-JIMMY'S-Knight Cap-Mayslack's-the fucking bullshit 331-and The Spring Street(excellent place to sober up!). Eric's only stipulation was that you rock a 'stache. Dressing up on top of that was encouraged, but not necessary.

This is Eric, and this was his party.











Alright, I don't know who this chick that tagged along with us is, but I do know that she was SUPER drunk, and kind of annoying. Annoying enough to be immortalized with this greezy photo on the interwebs.