Gaddafi

By the looks of it, dude, you're already dead.

Kickin' Ass for MS

Most people already know this, but I'm running in the Minnesota Mud Run for MS. Actually, there is a post below somewhere that explains what it is and why I'm doing it, if you really give a shit. The reason I'm writing this, though, is for a different reason. Check out this screenshot here...



This is the homepage of Minnesota's Mud Run. As you can see on the bottom right, I am speed-bagging the rest of Minnesota's competitors in the realm of fund raising. In fact, there is only one team of dumb, drunk chicks ahead of me*. The beauty of the position that I hold as #1 fund raiser in MN is that, unlike most who trail me, my contributions have come from many, and in small amounts. I'm the Barack Obama of fundraising, if you will. The dark horse, who's ability to fund raise can be measured in direct relation to how effective and persistent I am in the areas of peer-pressure and ambiguous, underhanded threats.

I'd like to take this time to say thank you, again, to the heros that have thus far come forth and pledged for MS. Unless, that is, you pledged to someone other than me... then you're a terrorist.


*I have no evidence to support the claim that these women are dumb. Or drunk. Or even women, actually. I just said that because it was funny.

Easter Suit

In what has become one of my favorite reoccuring Spring time rituals, the Leisure Suit once again made its Easter appearance.



For 7 of the last 8 Easters, this suit has made Minneapolis a better place to have fun. A better place to raise children. A better place to call home. If you were lucky enough to witness it this year, then you're welcome. If not, it'll be out next year, and it's up to you if you want to bathe in it's glorious rays of lime-green sunshine.

Someone squish it!

I don't pay attention to the Royal Family. They embarrass me, and I'm not English. But still, a guy with internet access couldn't help but know what just went down, and even a little about it.

I guess I thought I knew enough. Now I'm not so sure. This photo changed everything.



Look, I get it. They're called Blue Bloods for a reason. Over the years, there has been a lot of tolerance to making sex with members of their own family. This causes problems, health and otherwise. And, when I say otherwise, I mean the miniature troll on the right flank of the former Miss Middleton. Oh my god is she ugly. She looks like she was squeezed out of a tube. I know that flowery halo thing is for decoration and all, but I'm imagining that it is a magic head-collar that is the only thing that keeps her from changing back into her natural state of full-fledged werewolf.

Post #200!

Jesus. I was surprised enough to just have the fortitude to make it to 100 posts, but 200? This might get in the way of my aspirations of becoming a lazy ass bitch.

I know that I haven't posted shit lately, but nothing exciting has happened in my life and I respect the 4 people who will read this enough that I didn't want to bore them by jabbering on with a bunch of crap that wasn't in the least bit interesting. It was my slow season, after all, as it seemingly was for the rest of Minneapolis' residents. I guess I could have posted photos of me reading the paper and watching The Price Is Right at Jimmy's, but that kind of thing is usually better experienced.

I did take this photo on a job a few weeks ago.



I don't know. I thought it was funny.

Hair, did.

For whatever reason, our kitchen has become the surrogate place to get your hair cut/colored when you can't make it in to see Nell at her place of work. Which works great for me, because I love cleaning hair off my cutting boards.

I've turned into that guy!

I remember a day(not that far gone by) that I would see people on the street, arm extended out in front of their body, cell phone in hand. They were taking a photograph, and I would watch with my usual scorn. "That isn't a flipping camera", or "Another photo that will never make it off the LCD panel". You get my drift.

Now I have to look at myself, assuming the same damn position, loving it.







If you want to see more, there is now a whole damn portfolio on my website dedicated to these greazy things. I'm torn over this...

Mud Run, here comes me.

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/General/MNMGeneralEvents?px=9009294&pg=personal&fr_id=17063

This is the dirty link to what promises to be a dirty, dirty time for me. Along with some of the people that I kettlebell with, I am signed up for the MS Mud Run in September. It's for science, Multiple Sclerosis to be exact. You, and anyone you know, can pledge money to me via the link and help me reach my very modest goal of $400.

Actually, if you really want to help, you could just run the shit for me, because it is no joke. I've talked to 3 people who have ran it already(2 of them ex-Marines), and they have been mentally planning for the run since it kicked their ass last year. These are people in much better shape than myself. It's time to get to work.





Oh, that looks nice...

More frickin' storms.

I'm haven't been too hot on winter or snow since I was a downhill skier, and that's been a while. Think florescent clothes and those stupid hats that have ear flaps dangly things coming from the ears and top... that long.

Anyway, if it's coming down, you might as well try and enjoy it.

V-Day in the Castle!

I almost couldn't believe when my special lady told me the news. "I got us a reservation at White Castle for Valentine's Day." she said somewhat sheepishly. "Is that OK?"

Is it?!? I've wanted to go to that place on Valentine's Day since I found out they were doing said day's celebration, and I found out about it LONG before I had any business going out with a woman on Valentine's Day.







In the past month, I've found that many people weren't aware of White Castle's decades old Valentine's Day hoopla. Allow me. They close the restaurant's eat-in area for those without reservations(which, btw, fill up about 2 months ahead of time). They break out the white linen table cloths, candles, candies, and shitty(but appropriate) decorations. They even have a hostess and servers, though I still chose to get up and fill up my own mini ketchup cups.

The menu is unchanged, as is the look on my face when I eat more than 2 or 3 of those things, not to mention the onion chips and whatever that fish sandwich was that made it onto our tray by accident.

G-Ma hits 94!

I don't want to brag or anything, but I have the best Grandma in the world. She is the complete and total shit. I mean, I don't intend to sound overly dramatic, but my Grandma could beat up your Grandma. Seriously. She is 100% Polish. Do you even know what that means? It means get the hell out of the way because this place is crap, and she's here to pick up the pieces.



We did some of the usual on our tour of Northeast today. The Modern, Surdyk's, Reddy Meats. I threw a new one in there for her, though, Rewind. She loved it. She always does. See, my Grammy is probably the ultimate tour guide when it comes to this area. Not only does she know where all the iconic places are, she has some dirt on the families that actually started the businesses. Christ, she slapped ol' man Mayslack in the face as well as tell ol' man Jax to go to hell(in Polish) to fend off their advances. It's totally understandable, though, as she was completely stunning in her 20's.



Wow.

1029 at Cristmas

According to the manager I talked to, it takes 8 of their employees 6 hours to decorate this place for the holidays. Thats 48 man hours according to my shitty Columbia Heights math. The place is best described as the result of Christmas vomiting all over the place.



Speaking of puke, here's Cory in his usual holiday garb, holding it down for the rest of us sinners.

Clubbing

I am now in a league at the St. Paul Curling Club. What does this mean? It means I'm a card-carrying member of said club. A club member, or a 'Club Man' you might say. Time to amend my wardrobe and make shitty my attitude so I can look the part. If you see a dude in a tweed sportcoat driving a Honda Fit while smoking a pipe and looking for real estate in the Kenwood neighborhood, say hi! Actually, don't say anything... I don't fraternize with your type.

Pit Bull?

I guess the only thing more absurd than a friend buying me a 40oz is that there is a company out there actually producing this particular variety of 40oz.



This would be even more funny than it already is if I didn't think that this company was dead serious. It just so damn corny! I mean, the fucking Pit Bull is wearing a fat gold chain with a diamond-encrusted 'PB'!. And, he's behind a chain-link fence to boot! And what the hell is 'High Gravity Ice Malt Liquor' anyway? In my mind, that means that in order to construct a malt liquor that is this kick-ass(and enables you to kick ass), that the scientists behind the Pit Bull brand had to come up with a special machine that defies our conventional form of gravity. Only within the bowels of this 'High Gravity' supermachine will you discover the utopian conditions necessary to deliver a product worthy of this label. I think I'll save it for Christmas day.

On a side note, that is indeed a piece of Spam in a ziplock bag on the left. It's the supreme food pairing with Pit Bull. I'll probably need more of that on Christmas as well.

Architectural Perfection

What we have here is a near perfect graham cracker rendition of the Greatest Place in the World.



Now, I can visit said place any time I want without the dishonor of putting on pants!

NE/331 rant

This deserved some deliberation...



Obviously, the most stunning part of this letter is it is proof that someone actually does read my blog. I'm guessing they're bored. The author of the letter raises a legitimate question, though, and I will attempt to answer it as sensibly as possible. They want to know why I despise the 331 Bar as much as I do?

The author describes theirself as 'a former nordeaster'(a statement that I'll touch on later), as they lived a couple of blocks from the bar and, presumably, they frequented the place. Fine. I understand that proximity to things tends to alter perception. I'm far enough away from the fucking place thankfully, so allow me to interject some objectivity into this shitty mix.

I could go on for some time about the things I hate about the 331, but I'll focus on two things. The staff, and their complete disregard of tradition.

Look, I like bartenders. Bartenders tend to like me. I get that I'm not the most important thing in their lives, and I appreciate the reasons for surliness, and the quality thereof. There is a difference between being surly because you've earned it over the years and it has become part of you, and being surly because you are in NE and you think it's fashionable. That is just being a fuck-face. That has always been my experience at the 331. And really, Mr. Bartender, how well do you think you're pulling off the surly-guy mode with your stereotypical hipster outfit and a half of a fucking can of hairspray on your goddamn head? You look like a dick, and you tend bar for shit. Now go listen to 89.3, work on your mustache, and fuck off.

There is a bigger reason for why I hate the place, though. About a year or so after they opened, a good friend of mine went in for one of their $5 Bloody Marys one morning. Fair price, indeed. He asked for a beer chaser, and this is where the whole the low shit and high shit systems combined to make a giant fucking shiticane.

They charged him $1 for the snit.

This goes against everything our forefathers have built for us here, and everything that we stand for now. And not just locally, but the entire fucking Midwest. You'll notice that anywhere you go in this country, if you ask for one with your bloody, that there is a good chance that the bartender will guess what part of the country that you're from. THAT'S BECAUSE EVERY BAR IN THE FUCKING MIDWEST GIVES YOU THE CHASER. It's 3 ounces of shitty beer, for christ's sake, and somehow the 331 decides that they are so fucking awesome that that tradition shouldn't apply to them? Unbelievable. Maybe someone has talked some sense into them by now and they realized the error of their ways, but I'm no longer interested. That is a fuck-up so egregious that I could never go back. I can only hope that it gets closed down, but until dudes stop cramming their junk into women's pants and shitty music stops being popular, I don't see that happening anytime soon.

Oh, and about that former statement. It's innocent enough now, but know this readers... no actual Northeasters refer to themselves as 'Nordeasters'. That is actually a racist slur that people used to call the Polish immigrants, like my Grammy, who were new to Northeast Minneapolis in the early 1900's. The English language is a motherfucker, and pronouncing things like 'north' is ofter taken for granted. Polish people couldn't easily do it, and their lack of linguistic dexterity was used against them.

Captain Americat!

HOLY SHIT!



I have a cat running around here somewhere that is scared of nearly goddamn EVERYTHING. If you move too fast, it fucking hides underneath the table. It won't even kill spiders! It just pats them on the back a few times as if to say "Hey little buddy, you're doing a great job with your 8 legs! Keep 'er up!" In the meantime, those alligators are dinosaurs designed to eat that fucking cat and he holds the line without even thinking of retreat.

From now on, I'm having cats around here imported from these swamps. Apparently, they're raising some hard-core felines down there that won't take shit from anyone or anything. I will have a new partner in the battle to get control of the goddamn block back from the squirrels.

***On a side note, I noticed that this cat's escapade of Iron Will was too huge to properly fit into the format of my blog and that it ran off into the sidebar. So be it, Mr. Tuffy, I'm far too intimidated by you to take it down now.

Dashboard Baby

Yesterday's snow can suck it. Besides the light it shined upon my bald tires and their need for replacement, it also committed the deleterious act of keeping Dashboard Baby in the dark and without a proper view of the sky(which he/she has become accustomed to).



Where could I ever start with Dashboard Baby? He/She has been with me for over a year and a half now. He/She never complains. He/She always stays on His/Her post. He/She has maintained for me the cleanest dashboard that I've ever seen on a consistent basis, and all he/she asks is that I whip a shitty once and a while.

What's wrong with this?

I'm going through my busy season as of late, so I haven't rapped about shit because I don't exactly enjoy sitting down for a typing session at my cpu unless it's about squirrels that I've purified. This, though, had to be considered...



Can anyone tell me why in the fuck a dude might need a resealable bag for the 3-pack of tank tops that he just bought for 6 bucks? What am I going to do, wear one for 6 months until it wears out, toss it, and then break out my reserve $2 tank that I've been storing in a moth-resilient form of cryostasis located in my underground clothing bunker? FUCK!

Garden Terrorist Meets Tomato-Eating, American Justice.

I've said it before, my landlord has gone to great lengths to make one of the most lavish gardens in the neighborhood. Since I have been given the proverbial green light to take food from it, I intend to protect it.

So far this year, these shit-monkeys have kept to their nuts and the trash or whatever. However, I caught this dick doing what they do worst, eating one bite out of a tomato and then discarding the rest.



I'm not going to let some diseased rodent keep me from eating local!

Summers last go.

RUTABAGA FEST!!! I've only heard the stories of this Cumberland, WI super-extravaganza, but this is the first time I got an opportunity to experience it.

Predictably, we ended up just drinking beer on the dock and going to the bar together...

A clean kill.

OK, maybe I watched Avatar one too many times, but it came in handy yesterday.



In what is possibly my nerdiest display of geekdom of my entire life, I ended this thing in style. After knocking him off the wall and injuring him to the point where flying was no longer possible, I told him that "His body will stay with the people, but his spirit will go with Eywa".

Then I crushed him with the fly-swatter.

Don Pablo's. Wow...

I possibly ate the worst food that I've ever eaten tonight(at least since Columbia Heights High School lunch). Nell is going through a rough time, and since on numerous occasions she has told me that Don Pablo's is her favorite restaurant, I decided to bite the bullet. Take one for the team, so to speak.



In retrospect, I would have preferred to be kicked in the crotch. This food redefines terrible. My bowl of soup, which was a failed attempt by me to try to salvage SOME degree of healthiness from this doo-doo buffet, was easily the saltiest thing ever put in front of me. It reminded me of middle school when Shawnee Hunt used to distract a dude sitting across the lunch table from him, then dump a handful of salt in his food when he looked away. Only, there was no Shawnee Hunt...

Waupaca, 4th of July

Didn't conviene with the entire crew this time, but we worked it out with what we had.















Oh, and here is Cory being truly busted looking at some boobs. He isn't even smooth enough to wipe that look off his face while peeping.

Darksided

Just a few short weeks after being escorted out of a Twins game by a handful of fake cops, I get arrested by real Stormtroopers. 35 is shaping up nicely!

RT

I've always been cool with what I've known about Minneapolis' mayor. Now, I'll freely admit that I'm not the most knowledgeable when it comes to local politics. Besides the disgusting amount of beige architecture thats happened under his(and his predecessor's) watch, I feel like he is pretty legit for a politician. Seeing him at a parade a few days ago like this certainly didn't diminish his standing in my eyes...



Its like he's doing his best wu-tang! Despite this coolness, I once stopped going to a bar because I looked over my friend's shoulder and saw RT about 5 feet from away. Again, its not that I don't like him, its just that I'm not comfortable hanging out at a bar with the mayor quite yet.

Residence in decline.

As I type this, this greasy shit-ball of disease is laying in front of the door at my last apartment. After I moved out, a friend of mine moved in. Apparently, he hasn't done a damn thing to maintain the level of safety that I once provided.



Don't get me wrong, though, this isn't the same classification as the normal shit-rat that I once rained death and destruction upon in the name of child welfare. No, this a problem of a much grander scale. Standard pellet guns don't do squat to a raccoon unless you were to get real, real lucky. I suggested a golf club. He called animal control.

I guess the point is I'm ashamed and embarrassed by my friend's behavior(or lack thereof). In only 7 months, the neighborhood that I once secured has apparently turned into some sort of shit-sanctuary. When the cats away...

1st Twins Game

It took a while, but I finally made it to a game at the new Twins stadium. Besides it's name and the fact that most of it is beige, there really isn't anything about this place that is bad. And the food!





Below is what you see when you look up...

What in the HELL!?!?

OK, I was going to try to ignore this incident in the name of freedom of expression or whatever, but really... what in the HELL?


*i'll explain the weed plant later...

This was the scene outside our doorstep at 12:01 on easter sunday. Its an old Russian Orthodox Church. I understand that the day is special to these particular believers as well as others, but what about the dude across the street who might be sleeping and couldn't give a flying fuck about said day?

Well, "Fuck him" say they. But they don't say as much with a whimper. Oh no, that would be more characteristic to their approach on, well, helping humanity progress forward. Instead, they do it in a swashbuckling, gay Megatron-ish, give-us-your-attention-and-prepare-to-burn-in-Hell fashion... and its complete with 15+ minutes of the loudest goddamn bells I've ever bore witness to. Incense, fire, walking around in fucking circles like well dressed zombies, terrible singing... its all there.

Now to the weed plant. Its just a marker that I stuck there(DUH!). Its sole purpose is to call your attention to the dude being pointed at by the bottom left leaf. I was going to go with an arrow or a circle, but somehow the weed plant seemed more appropriate. Here is that scene enlarged a bit...



This guy(who was of some goddamn importance in this fruit-fest) wouldn't stop murmuring shit and jumping around like an idiot. Also, the hands? Those fucking hands? What is with your goddamn hands, dude? As you can see, he has them up in the air either like he is doing the chicken dance or he's in a mosh pit.** I honestly have no idea what the fuck was with this guy. Well, at least he has a handful of impressionable kids around him. Jesus...


**i do believe this is the first time that the chicken dance and a mosh pit were used to describe the same thing.

The Classic NE Auto Show.

As stated before, I never intended for this project to be about cars. But, like Mr. Leahy said... "When life throws you shit-balls, you've got to get a shit-bat".