6 month old baby kickin' it poolside!

My niece Pyka is in town from Colorado. Last time I posted a picture of her, she was about the size of a fishing lure. Now, she's a pretty burly chick! Tall and svelte, just like her favorite Uncle Kelly.



We're going to kick SO much ass together when she is old enough to drive.

Johnson!

A couple of days ago, we were driving down Hennepin when Jeff yells "Shit, Kelly, I just saw your costume for this Halloween!". So we turn around and stop outside the costume rental place. At first, I didn't see what he was referring to, but I also didn't consider the contents of their dumpster as an option.

Jeff did.



Have fun with your new Scabies dude.

Zombie Apocalypse

Here is the scenario. The Zombie Apocalypse happens tonight. 99.9% of the populace becomes the traditional, slow-moving zombies. You are one of the survivors. You get 3 weapons right off the get go. Ammo is virtually unlimited for the first few days as you get your shit together and figure out how to progress in your new reality.

What weapons would you take?

This seemingly absurd question(as well as many related to it) has been on my mind for weeks. I can't seem to shake it. I'm positive that I'm getting on my coworkers nerves by now. I hope that by confronting this on my blog, it will have a cathartic effect, and I can put the issue to rest.

That having been said, here are my pics.



From left to right we have the M4 Carbine, a Mack 10, and a goddamn American-made Louisville Slugger.

The M4(with the grenade launcher of course) would hopefully be my most used weapon. If this is so, it means I'm keeping the walking dead grizzly whores where I should be keeping them... far away.

The Mack 10 was suggested by my friend Eric. Its a brilliant close range option. If they get in that 15 ft range(they will, they're ZOMBIES!), I can peel off like 19 .45 rounds a second and deliver exploded heads in waves.

Inevitably, though, I'm going to reload. Occasionally, a zombie will get too close for me to take chances with. Out comes the trusty Louisville Slugger. Others chose samurai swords, axes, etc... all acceptable. Personally, though, I love the romance of the Slugger. America may be a land of the walking dead ex-Pats, but that doesn't mean that I can't hold onto a little piece of patriotism.

I encourage you all to invest some time in thinking about this subject. After all, Jacko just died and one could view that as a sign.

You may even want to pretend to be a zombie once and a while. Its always prudent to know your enemy.

Cumberland and Waupaca

I'm not sure I'm spelling Waupaca right, but life goes on. I didn't really get around to posting some of the photos that I wanted to from vacation and these will probably be the last of them. Hopefully, I'll have fresher stuff coming and I'll forget all about this stuff.



Waupaca is such a bitchin hotbed of hedonism. OK, not really, but even on this, the worst year(weather wise) of the past many, we still did what was necessary to make loveable asses out of ourselves. And check out this sign!



Where other than Wisconsin will you see this sign TWICE in the same goddamn town?!?! They're fucking ORDERING you to drink beer!

Hennepin Ave Bridge

This goddamn Grainbelt Beer sign is one of the most recognizable outposts of NE Mpls. For anyone with class, this is like a beacon of wonderful, pure light when exiting the godforsaken, loathsome, repugnant area known as downtown Minneapolis.

This sign used to be a respected icon of the city. Unfortunately, for all the great things that come with living in a liberal metropolis, there are also some detestable examples of overreaching.



This sign USED to be lit up on the side opposite of this photo. Some 'morally correct' people decided that it was a bad example for our children or whatever. Unfortunately, they had enough clout to pull the plug on it so it is no longer lit at night. Good thing, too, because I'm sure that this unique specter of the city's history was enough to push scores of otherwise perfectly christian members of our great society to fall off the moral cliff of righteousness and into the valley of deprivation, drunkenness, and pure evil.

As a personal and silent protest, I'm not taking a single photo of the business side of this fucking sign until the lights are back on.

And heres the fucking mighty Mississippi... free from my angst and just down the road.

Vintage lovin'

As I've said before, this project has shifted from what I originally intended it to be. I'm fine with that. I won't lie though, at this point in time I seem to be looking for shitty cars... and nothing else. I shouldn't say shitty cars, either... shame on me. These are mostly old cars. Rusty cars. Weathered cars. Certainly not shitty cars, though. They're 20+ years old, and are still being used by their loving owners as transportation. So it kinda irritates me when people talk shit about these things. They look BETTER with age. Try saying that about your Saturn. Or your Ford Focus. Or your goddamn golden-shit colored PT Cruiser. You can't. You know why? Cause those rolling pieces of doo-doo won't last that fucking long.





Fuck your couch.

NOT Kelly Loverud day.

Let me start by saying that I accidentally got REALLY liquored up last night. I caught up with a friend over some beers and the shit just continued and continued and then spiraled the fuck down hill.

So I started my day this morning in the hole big time. I forged ahead, though, cause I knew that things were only going to get better.

Wrong.



Can you fucking believe the size of the rip in my FAVORITE GODDAMN PAIR OF SHORTS?!?! Of corse this shit happened within an hour of my 10 hour work day, so I could walk around all day showing my undies to anyone unfortunate enough to look in my direction. I'm sure the clients loved it. Very professional Kelly, you douche bag.

But hey, my hangover finally went away at around 5 o'clock. So what better way to celebrate that then by sticking my head into a ceiling fan? Right? Yeah!



This was taken about 45 seconds after it got me. I would have taken another photo after it swelled up and started to look really ugly, but I had a new headache and I was no longer in a fucking around mood. Plus I had a dude named Dan O mending my wound with some sort of spray glue. Dan O's only qualification for this is that he is on a hockey team. I'm looking forward to the inevitable scar.

NE from above.

This is the view of NE Minneapolis from the west side of the river. I'm fortunate enough to have a friend who has a condo over yonder, and there is nothing I enjoy more than enjoying the view of my home from above.



When I sit on this porch, I feel like that dude Sauromon from Lord of the Rings, Two Towers... but instead of lording over a bunch of orcs and goblins, I'm lording over a bunch of meat raffles and pull tabs and shitty hair and what not.

4 AM

Again, more after-bar shenanigans as we decided to break out the Misfits masks. It started innocently enough, with us just taking off some clothes and searching for weapons. Eventually, of course, we(I) decided it would be funny to post up on the side of a country road with a sickle, chain, and some beer... and wait for a car to come by.



A car never drove by in a half of an hour. We took photos instead.

Kate's posse

My old friend Kate brought her kids up to Cumberland for the first leg of our vacation. She reminded me that I'm a dick because they only live an hour away, but I haven't seen them in about 2 years. As if I need reminding. Kate, you'll be happy to know that I have plenty of people reminding me of that... and on a regular basis.

Cole


Ben


Dog

Chicken Fried Seth

Yeah, its been a while since I rapped about anything. When this dude goes on vacation, though, this dude GOES ON VACATION.

And I'm sorry that my first post in weeks has to be this photo of Seth. It was the first notably fucked thing that happened on my vacation.



After we got home from the bar on our first night in Wisconsin, we did some brainstorming and came up with a list of names to describe Seth's back. Here they are, and in no particular order...

Epidermal Buffet
Snack Back
Skinitos
DNA Roll-Ups
Sun Yuns
BBQ Rotisserie Back Slab
Skin Jim
Skingles
Trail Back
Baby Back Back
Peel and Eat Seth

Kombucha

A friend of mine recently told me of 'the best thing for hangovers there is'. Kombucha tea. I had never had this, but I have had hangovers. Plenty of them. In fact, I'm one of those dudes who gets REALLY wicked hangovers. I don't even have to get that drunk to accomplish it, either. To date, the only thing that has kept me from being all headachy and pukey the next day is to drink a ton of water before, during, and after a day/night of straight northeast-style drinking.


(for the record, i did not take this wack-ass photo... just found it on the internet)

Anyway, I bought one last Saturday. I put it on deck for my next possible hangover. It has a quick expiration date, this Kambucha, but I wasn't worried about that.

Sure as shit, I was out drinking beer and playing chess on Sunday. I called it an early night and went home around 8... but not before I had a decent buzz. And this is the part of this prolonged fucked up story where I became a scientist. A drunk, shitty scientist.

See, I didn't have to work Monday. I already had a healthy beer buzz. I had a bottle of rum and a grip of limes. And I had the bottle of Kambucha in the fridge.

Of course I said fuck it. Time to get drunk for the sake of Science.

I tapped out midway through my second lowball of straight rum on ice. To be honest, I didn't even want the second one. I didn't even really want the first one, actually. It just seemed to me that to waste the circumstances, or to not follow through all the way would be folly. Go big or go home, so to speak.

I drank the tea. I hated it. I went to bed.

I woke up with a hangover. Perhaps it may have been worse. I don't know.

Retro me.

After the realization that I came to which I described in the previous post, I found myself gravitating toward the tracks. These are the kind of places that I liked to photograph when I first got into photography about 10 years ago. I used to go there and do detail shots of aged and broken shit. I know, its not original, but its fun. I still like the act of photographing this crap, and I always seem to like the results.



I think I'm going to put together a book filled with nothing but rusted, vacant buildings and shitty old cars. I'm going to send it to Target and tell them that I specialize in weekly circular product photography with a emphasis on women's feminine products.

NE gone wild.

I had this idea at the beginning of doing the NE thing that I would just shoot houses, bars, buildings, etc. That hasn't exactly worked.



You know what though, fuck it man. People that know me would probably tell you that I am quite the orderly person. I keep my surroundings basically uncluttered and my life in general as together as I can. That mental framework is dangerous if left unchecked, though. For instance, I've noticed it at times slithering into my photographic vision. Yeah, if your an ad photographer, having a preconceived vision isn't just beneficial, its kind of essential.



On the other hand, if you're a dude who is just running around taking photos of your neighborhood, your lunch, or whatever else interests you, a uncompromising eye is just too goddamn dangerous.

Therefore, I'm just going to make photos. I'll sort shit out after I'm done.

Truce... broken.

I haven't blogged in a while, yes, but I was on one of the most exhausting jobs I've ever been on. Typing after work seemed daunting, and actually picking up a camera was downright impossible.

The last two nights, though, I got off my ass again and went out to try to make some art. Shitty art, good art, irrelevant and unoriginal art, whatever it takes. It worked too! I got some decent stuff. I even took a picture of that hot dog that I've been wanting to shoot for a few weeks.

I'm telling you this because, as I type, I couldn't give a flying fuck about any of that whatsoever. As I was putting the finishing touches on some NE project worthy photos, I caught a glimpse of this greasy rat-soup motherfucker.



Did he not receive the memo? The Evil Little Geniuses and I had a cordial thing going here so far this summer. They stay the fuck out of my yard, I don't apply lead to their dome piece. Its possible that he knew my stats from last summer, and that about 92% of my registered kills came in the backyard. Perhaps the little gambler was just playing the numbers. Did he realize, though, that I'm sitting on a shit-ton of ammo and its seems like a goddamn waste of money not to use it? In this economy?

I'm not a barbarian. After this one-shot, ultra-clean/fast kill, I at least had the decency remove his corpse from where it lay. A more insensitive man may have let it be run over by my neighbors truck.

I scooped it up in a pizza box and dropped it in the trash.

Mac's Industrial

So I went to Mac's yesterday for some beer and some chess. Right. In addition to that, I was witness to one of the most boss-ass, super burgers that a guy should ever try to wrestle down. And its not one of those "Eat this fucking burger and we'll give it to you free" things... its a regular menu item.

Say hello to the 'Livin' The Dream Burger'.



FYI... that is a slab of special cream cheese along with fried onion rings. Also, I had to ask the man in charge of constructing my edible death wish, Brian Kapke, to leave a bunch of those 'burning rings of fire' off... I'm not sure I had the right lens to get it all in one shot while maintaining the integrity of the background... seriously. Anyway, he was game and did as well at styling this amount of sheer mass as a dude could ever ask.

With the beautiful light on this night, I had grandiose plans of going out after eating and adding some more photos to the NE project. No fucking way. Super fat. It was as much as I could do to make it home and take a half-assed picture of my pantry... from my knees.

NE, sunday

I've been known to jump to conclusions at times when it comes to changes in my neighborhood. As I've stated before, I HATE the 331, The Bulldog, and the Red Stag. Its not only that they're shit, its that they're newcomers. I understand that this is stupid. I understand that I sound like a curmudgeonly, cantankerous old fuck. I don't apply this stupidity to everything, though. Restaurants get a free pass in my idiotic book. Bars do not.

Anyone who has been in this neighborhood long enough probably has a certain amount of nostalgia for Mac's sports bar. No, it wasn't in the mold of the sports bar of today, the mold which has effectively made certain that I will never enter another again. It had true class, real character. So when they knocked the fucker down and put up condos, you can probably imagine my angst.

Then, when a bar opened up across the street and named itself Mac's Industrial Sports Bar(?), I pretty much wrote that one off as well. Fortunately, I'm not quite as inflexible as I come across as being. Its a good place with good beer and good people. I'm not a fan of a bunch of windows in bars, though. Mac's is ALL fucking windows. This works fine in the summer. Come winter, I don't want to see that shit, I want to pretend I'm in Acapulco or something.



I'm even starting to warm up to the goddamn condos across the street. I still think the architects were arrogant pricks to design a building on the cheap that didn't resemble a fucking thing surrounding it, but whatever...

More random NE

I didn't really plan on doing shots like this one for the NE project, but I'm throwing it out there to see how it feels.



Also, I know I said no people, but I had to stick this dude in here somewhere. I figure if I piggyback it onto a church shot for now, somehow that is more acceptable.



Thats impressive huh? The hair, not the church.

100th post!

This is post #100. I can't believe that I stuck with this for as long as I have. As anyone who has been unlucky enough to be peer pressured by myself into following this shit could tell you, it has been strange. I never had any ideas about where it was going and I still don't. Here, though, is a brief chronology of where it has been.

1. A place for friends to view drunk Bay to Breakers photos from San Fran.
2. Random crap.
3. A documentary of the War with the Squirrels.
4. Random crap.
5. Burningman photos.
6. More from the front line of the Squirrel War.
7. Random crap.
8. The food project starts(still going)
9. Random crap.
10. The Northeast project starts



So, thank you to anyone durable enough to have read a bunch of my posts. As you now know, I utilize this blog more as a diary than anything else. And I'm sorry if I have offended anyone with my corse language or crude ideas.

Here is a smattering of some of my favorite entries from the past year

Squirrel War Begins!
The Native American Squirrel Significance Bullshit
Mr. America
Pyka!
Food project starts
The Beer Stick
The Kramarchek's fuck-story
Jimmy's
Modern pot roast
This billboard SUCKS

WATCH YER SHIT!

So I saw a guy on a scooter just get CREAMED the other day by an older woman in a car. Apparently, she saw it fit to take a left out of the right lane of a 3 lane one-way. The poor dude in front of me is proudly putting along at about 30 mpg on his brand new Stella scooter(dealer plates, man, dealer plates...). All of a sudden he has a beige sedan(of course) directly in front of him and WHAP! You can bet your sweet ass that I called the cops and stayed with the dude until the cop got there so I could make sure there was zero misunderstanding as to which party should shoulder the responsibility for this fuck-story.

Then, this morning as I was driving around, and I see this...



I don't know if this guy died via vehicle, or cancer, or raptors or what. I DO know that, weather motorbike or bicycle, this scenario of car vs non-car unfolds far too often in these parts.

So, that having been stated... WATCH YER SHIT!

Excellent effort!

OK, I understand that houses get foreclosed on. They get condemned. Buildings become vacant. All that shit happens as the natural ebb and flow of a community. With that acknowledged, can't people display a little creativity sometimes? Do we always have to perpetuate the same goddamn stereotype of the down and out?



Kudos to whoever blocked this place up. Yeah, it has nothing to do with northeast or food or squirrels or any of the other happy horseshit that usually occupies my posts... but it a damn nice piece of condemnation, no less!

Pairings

This is probably as far as I'm going to drive for the whole food project thing. Pairings is off Hwy. 62 in Minnetonka... and its in exactly the type of development that I have engineered my life to avoid. My friend, Kate, is involved in launching this restaurant, and she invited me to the pre-opening so of course I went.

It was REALLY GOOD! And it doesn't feel like, well, like the rest of the area that it is imbedded in. It has attractive lighting(natural and lamp), an easy layout, and I ate on a 700 lb. wood table... beautiful!



I had a few things, but the one above was a Duck Confit pizza that also has goat cheese, squash, cherries, and arugula. It was absolutely fantastic. I also had one of the best dressings that I can remember. It was a buttermilk of some variety, and it was on a grilled chicken spinach salad. Also bitchin'.



The area that Parings is located in should be indebted to the people behind said restaurant. Here's a fun fact... there are two Starbucks within 150 yards of the Pairings. TWO! Is that necessary? What in the fuck is that about? Well, at least when you're eating at Pairings, you can face West and all you see is road and trees...

Today is the first day of the annual Art-a-Whirl festival in NE Minneapolis. I love the fact that since I've lived here, my neighborhood has gone from moderately 'seedy' to the undisputed artistic hub of the state. My favorite part about the transformation isn't the art, though. My favorite part is the way that the new, young artistic demographic has moved in but has done little to harm the staples that truly anchor the neighborhood.

On any given night, people on opposite sides of, well, everything mingle without friction with one and other. Make no mistake, though, there are exceptions... and the neighborhood would be an even better place if they would just go away. I can think of 3 places off hand that can fuck off. The Bulldog NE, The Red Stag, and the dreaded 331 Club. Really, just go back to Uptown where you belong... there is no shame in that. You're like really fashionably dressed vultures... parasites, even.





These photos are a metaphor which encapsulates my love for this neighborhood. Some people succeed in making art for art's sake. Some people make art on accident.

They both succeed. Only one cares.

The Dark Side

Contrary to popular belief, NE Minneapolis is not ONLY sun-drenched beaches, romantic bay-side cafes, and exotic women frolicking through the streets throwing beads. Actually, its quite drab looking... almost creepy in areas.

This house, while officially in SE(I think), has always been one of my favorites. I know of no other house like it where I live. I know of no other house anywhere that looks like this, actually. Someday, I need to get inside...



This is an intersection 3 blocks from this vampire bomb shelter. Good things come in pairs, I guess.

WWWOOOOOO-WWWWWWOOOOOOO!!!!!

i dun ben drivin' round norfeast fer a cuple days now when i trip 'n fell 'n seent dis here. wwwooooo!!!! check out dem der rubbers!

Mother's Day

After I got done tearing it up with my mom and grandma, it was off to Sean's house in suburb X. I didn't know quite what to expect, because Sean seemed to be buying some of the food... but Aaron was going to be doing the heavy lifting.

Aaron is a friend of mine who did the culinary school/restaurant thing for years. Therefore, I set upon the event with an open mind. I knew as soon as I got there that I was in for the goods.



He was experimenting with frying red bananas. They were then to be skewered and grilled with a bunch of other goodies(see below).





I told you, Aaron doesn't fuck around. He also did a tequila/lime/curry marinade for the marlin steaks and the chicken.



Needless to say, I ate well. The marlin was particularly great. As was the beer. And the company.



Thanks goes to Aaron for the cooking, no doubt. That won't stop a dude from posting a pic of him being run over in chess by the L-train! WWOOOO-WWWOOOOOOOO!!

P.S. This is a late addition to this post, but I can't let this entry go without a pic of Jenny when she is schwasted...

The Favor Cafe

I never went to the Restaurant Miami or Club Miami or Miami or whatever the fuck it was called before it closed. If you know me and know the places I get my drinkin' done, you know that just having the word 'Miami' in your name pretty much eliminates you from getting my liquor money.

It was on Colfax and Lake St., and now its gone. Judging by the decor still left over in what is now The Favor Cafe(a soul restaurant!), it died a deserved death. Really, the whole thing is lit with pink and teal florescent lights. And the translucent stools! So midwestern-Miami. In other words... really, really, super fucking lame.

And, as anyone who has spent 30+ years in Minnesota would rightfully deduce, I didn't expect much from a southern/soul/caribbean restaurant in Minneapolis. I should know better than to think that I know stuff.



OK, the photo sucks. I already explained the lighting, though. I'm not kidding, it could not have been worse. Fortunately, when you spend a shit-ton of money on a camera these days, you can still record what you ate under crap conditions.

Seriously, I'm not a diehard fan of chicken. Its cool, but it never knocks me out because, well, its boring. I had a Jamaican chicken dish here with collard greens, yams, cornbread, etc... I wasn't even hungry when I ordered. It was amazing. I ate EVERYTHING. I had plans to go sing some karaoke that night when I was done. They were derailed by my fat fucking ass. I could barely move. Oh my god it was good. I'm so glad I found this place because I can see myself having yet another craving for this kind of food which can ONLY be satisfied by this kind of food.



This is the view from the bar. Wierd.

NE Project

I started a new project yesterday. It's quite simple. I'm going to drive up and down every block in NE Minneapolis and photograph any and all places that remind me of the area that I've called home for many years. Its going to have a heavy architectural emphasis, but certainly won't be opposed to including the... whatever. The only thing I plan on avoiding is people(at least portraiture). That would just open it up more than I care to think about, and I would risk the whole thing fizzling out.



If you can tell me what bar this is, I'll buy you a beer there.

So, yeah. I'm definitely not planning on blogging the entire project... there will just be too many photos. I'm 2 trips into this and I already have about 15 keepers for the archive... and thats from parts of the Marshall Terrace and Holland neighborhoods. It should be fun.

Risotto

I know someone who recently opened this restaurant. Obviously, thats all the reason I need to get me out of my culinary, dine-out slumber. So off to Lyn-Lake I went.

Now, I'm by no means an Italian food connoisseur. I mean, I make a pretty bitchin' marinara sauce after 10 years of refinement, but thats about as far as it goes. Also, I think my sauce is a bit less Italian, and a bit more... whatever I am.

Anyway, they obviously specialize in real Risotto here. Thats not what I had(due to time constraints)... so I had this instead. Insalata all'astice. If you don't know what that means, you need to brush up on your Italian. With a little patience, you could work your vocab up to 8 words... just like me.



I had a great time here. Patrice and the chef, Gabriele, couldn't have been more hospitable. I look forward to going back for dinner. That may not mean much to you, but if you knew how much I hated that neighborhood at night, it might.