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Run Club

28 Jun

Holy Hell. I hate run club. And I need to seriously get over that because I’ve got about oh-you-know 14 weeks left. I signed up for a marathon clinic through The Running Room. Last week it was just me and the trainer which initially I thought sucked because all the attention was focused on me. Thanks, but no thanks. Then on Wednesday of this week was a free run night which was explained to me kind of like this, “Run club meets every Wednesday and Sunday. Usually a bunch of people show up, but people go their own pace and distance.” Sa-weet. My own pace and distance? I like that talk because here’s the truth folks: I am a slooow, slooow runner. Like when I’m tired it looks like I am shuffling in a sad, depressed way down the street. In truth, I showed up with a buddy totally expecting this “your pace, your distance” thing and there were about 5 ELITE runners there. Like this one lady runs so much she has somehow modfied her feminine genitic makeup and has the body of a man. This chubby runner ain’t got nothing on her. My poor friend had to turn around early. I kept up about halfway, but then between huffing and puffing managed to tell the group to leave me. (Side note: If I ever find myself in a war movie where I selflessly tell my comrades to leave me behind as I die in the dirt, I will draw upon this experience.) These runner folks did not stop. For me? This is problematic as I love a little walk break. Hush you. I can sense your judgement.

And then the worst thing happened. Content with making it back to the store by myself (seriously, I was super happy to be alone) the leader and old man marathon dude came back for me. Cue me in my head a la White Fang, “Leeeave!” Just leave, okay?!” But no, they came back and said the dreaded words of encouragement that don’t encourage, but just make me feel pissed. “You can do it.” “Everyone has their own level.” and my personal favorite – “we just felt like running with you.” Uh huh. No you didn’t, LIARS. You felt sorry for me. It’s super lame when people feel sorry for you. I hope I can get better so that stops real soon.

Then yesterday. Oh, how yesterday sucked. Went to the clinic where there were a handful of others that had since joined the clinic. All great runners, which makes me wonder why the hell they joined the clinic. Leave the real training to couch-lovers like me! How I missed the week before when I didn’t have to worry about being the one who is slow that people are waiting on.

Remember my foot problem where it goes numb when I run? Apparently it’s a compressed nerve which my custom-made orthotics are supposed to help. Well, I picked up those orthotics on Wednesday, and um yeah. My foot totally still fell asleep, although I feel as if maybe it’s not as bad with them in? I’ll keep trying, but here is the other problem – orthotics take a bit of getting used to, and since I have only had them since Wednesday my leg muscles on day 2 of running in them were basically screaming at me. So…run with them in and have less/more manageable foot numbness, but overwhelming leg pain? Or take them out and have a foot that is dead. Super awesome predicament, eh? I am going to continue wearing the orthotics until my leg muscles get used to them. And I hope and pray so, so hard that it will help make the numbness better.

I feel like when I explain my situation to people, they look at me is if I am explaining to them that I have fibromyalgia or some other “disease” for attention seekers. No one knows my pain!

 Despite all my bitching and moaning, I want this. I want this just once. To say I ran a marathon. To say I did it and counted. Unlike all my run-happy comrades, I’m not looking to make some marvelous time. Screw that! My goal is as bottom-o-the-barrel as one can get. To run it and count. To not get kicked off the course because I was too slow to count. That’s all.

So I think I will do training club once a week and push myself super hard then. The rest of the time, I’m going to train my way.

Here we go.

I Am (NOT) A Model, You Know What I Mean/ And I Do My Little Turn On The Catwalk

16 Apr

I would like to start out this post with a little shout out to Right Said Fred for being more confident and sexy than should be allowed.

Now that you’ve got that song stuck in your head for the next four days, let me share with you my thought process for this post. I was looking through my roommate’s Marie Claire magazines, and I was kind of surprised at how many designers and major labels still use way too skinny models who mold themselves into almost sickening poses and postures. After all of the Dove “Campaign for Real Beauty” stuff, and with the general cultural awareness that has been raised in the last several years about what kind of beauty we idealize, I guess I am still (naively) shocked that women who look anything but sexy are still appearing in ads. However, there was more of a mix of body types within the magazine than I expected. Still not a great range, but better than what I remember from opening any woman-targeted magazine at the beginning of the millenium.

One trend that was definitely apparent from looking through the mag is the downturn of designers using professional models, and the upsurge of them using actors and celebrities. Now, I know that many, many actors get into the business by modeling, but I wouldn’t consider them professionals at hawking labels and perfumes. This is even true when celebrities try to sell their own clothing lines and fragrances. Do I really believe that they designed the clothes and fragrances even mostly on their own? Hell to the no. I also don’t buy into it because it seems that most of the celebrities who “create” their own perfume are mostly people I certainly do not want to smell like (re: Jennifer Lopez, Britney Spears, Taylor Swift . . . I can smell the mediocrity just thinking about it).

Anyhoo, the notion that got my brain turning was the process of modeling itself. More specifically, I found myself pondering: how hard could it possibly be? I decided I was going to show up these ladies by proving how ridiculous their posturing is in the context of real life, and how easy their jobs really are. However, after attempting these poses I have to admit that, while models certainly aren’t brain surgeons in terms of the difficulty of their jobs, creating a persona that people want to imitate is pretty taxing. I also learned that, after years of doing stupid faces and poses in photos, maybe my generally goofy looks aren’t so much by accident after all. I am fo’ sho a fairly awkward human being, and I can’t “do sexy” to save my dorky little life. I have to give major props to my dear roommate, Claire, who tried to coach me into at least trying to reasonably mimic these poses and looks, but the failure here is all my own. However, the following comparisons between the model photos and my photos below (I hope) will give you the best laugh you have today. If any of you happened to be wondering why my roommate and I were peeing our pants laughing on the floor last night while I was clutching a jar of Miracle Whip, wonder no more. Enjoy.

The "Apathetic, Disjointed" Look

The “Apathetic, Disjointed” Look

The "Somebody Smack Me If I Make This Face Again"

The “Somebody Smack Me If I Make This Face Again”

The "My Ankles are Broken"

The “My Ankles are Broken”

The "My Pride is Broken"

The “My Pride is Broken”

The "Questioning Tilt"

The “Questioning Tilt”

The "Dazed & Confused"

The “Dazed & Confused”

The "Smell the Hair"

The “Smell the Hair”

The "Eat the Hair"

The “Eat the Hair”

The "Intense Stare"

The “Intense Stare”

The "Impotent Glare"

The “Impotent Glare”

The "In Love With This Product"

The “In Love With This Product”

The "In Love With This Condiment"

The “In Love With This Condiment”

The "Sunny Sprawl"

The “Sunny Sprawl”

The "Dead Fall"

The “Dead Fall”

The "Whimsical Leap"

The “Whimsical Leap”

The "Barely Hop"

The “Barely Hop”

The "Girly Kick"

The “Girly Kick”

The "At Least My Leg Is Up"

The “At Least My Leg Is Up”

The "Windy Shoulder"

The “Windy Shoulder”

The "Drunken Mess"

The “Drunken Mess”

The "Sheerly Serious"

The “Sheerly Serious”

The "Sheerly Dumbfounded"

The “Sheerly Dumbfounded”

The "Shhh Up"

The “Shhh Up”

The "Almost Pick" Up

The “Almost Pick” Up

The "Sun Goddes Pout"

The “Sun Goddes Pout”

The "Sun Goddes Pout Pt. 2"

The “Sun Goddes Pout Pt. 2”

The "Dead Trout"

The “Dead Trout”

I’d say I got the closest with the leg kick up picture, but really, if I can’t do everything Jessica Simpson does and do it better, I really don’t see any reason to try anymore.

Life Achievements

29 Mar

Recently The Onion posted a hilarious faux article about how certain Facebook, or FB, friends should just stop with the life achievements already. Like, for realsies. Some of you people need to stop.  There is the girl I know from college who always looks ridiculously adorable because she is ridiculously adorable and you can’t even hate her for it. The worst. PS – she’s married and somehow has some miiighty deep pockets cause the girl is constantly travelling and making me jealous. That’s just one example out of many, many examples of people achieving things on my facebook homepage.

In a couple weeks, yours truly, will be celebrating a milestone event. The one year anniversery of dating. Say what? I know, a relationship that didn’t end after a couple months! I’m feeling rather nice and adult about the whole thing, thanks for asking 🙂

Now for me, this achievement is Big. Huge! (For those that got that Pretty Woman reference you are amazing). For some, my little one year of dating, ain’t got no thang on what they’ve got. Engaged, married, doctors, master’s, lawyers, homeowners, babies! It’s truly overwhelming at times. And let me show you the statsFB

Sorry if that’s hard to read. But yeah, I mean, considering the vast majority of my FB buds are my peers, the stats are daunting. I count single as you would if you file your taxes, so there are many in the single slice-o-the-pie that are dating, living together etc. Of course that’s just relationship status wise. Take a look at the babycentric pie chart. Though it’s only a third of the chart, I feel like my Facebook has utterly exploded with babies and pregnancies. Which is weird for me because I eat cereal for supper far too many nights a week to be considered mom material at this point.FB2So yeah. I even did a graph for the single with kids. I wanted to call it the bastard chart, but being the sensitive and culturally aware person that I am, chose “Single with kids.” And look! Turns out my friends are more traditional than I thought.

FB3Does anyone else feel like this is happening to their homepage? Or are you an “other” with your wedded bliss and baby glow? I jest. Of course I want all of that someday – marriage and 2 fat little babies (who grow up to be not fat) to love. Someday.

Peace out and have a great Easter. I’ll be paper writing. Woot!

Kenz

The stuff of entertainment

15 Mar

Despite not having cable (sad thing, yes, I know) I can generally fulfill my entertainment needs with Netflix, Hulu, and Redbox. Actually, I find myself invested in a lot of different shows. Some shows are difficult for me to explain why exactly I watch them. Take, for instance, the teen drama Pretty Little Liars. I know the show’s target audience is about 12-16 years old, but what can I say? I totally watch it every week. About a month ago, I went to Macy’s out of boredom (shush you!) and bought a new jacket. As I tried it on I thought to myself, “This is such a Hannah jacket.” As in Hannah from Pretty Little Liars. Sometimes I can be a real gomer.

My lack of cable also is a factor in my watching of tv shows on Netflix. One that I’ve watched about half of the first season of is Hart of Dixie, a ree-dic-u-lous show about a sassy New York doctor and her trials and tribulations working at a family practice in (I kid you not) the town of Bluebell, AL. Her arch-rival is a southern debutante named Lemon. (Don’t you just hate when that happens?) This town seems to live for floral prints, drawled out expressions like, “Daddy, I’m so excited for the sweetie pie dance!”, and having aligators as pets. Okay – don’t get me wrong – I’ve never been to Sweet Home Alabama, but I’m fairly certain Hart of Dixie’s portrayal is rather off.

Recently through Netflix I watched Heavenly Creatures. Released in 1994, (I’m really convinced that 1994 was one of the best years for film) it stars a young Kate Winslet and Melanie Lynskey as 2 young girls in New Zealand who form an obsessive attchment to each other, and through a series of events, plot and execute the murder of one of their mothers.This is based on a true story! Which then prompted my fingers to Wikipedia that shit with great fervor. Sidebar: every time I watch a movie about a real killer, I have to research them on the Intenet. It’s way creepy, but seriously fascianting stuff to me. Can’t really explain it, but I swear I’m not a killer! There is a line in the film in which Lynskey’s character says, “We have decided how sad it is for others that they cannot appreciate our genius.” That’s so Ali and me. Ha. Kidding. (shhh not really)

It has been many years since I decided to purchase a movie I had never seen before, but yesterday at Target I purchased Life of Pi on a whim. I knew I wanted to see it and just decided to go for it. I watched it last night and loved it! I know it’s gotten mostly good reviews, but there are some that are bad. And not to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen this film, but if you are frustrated by the ending because it’s not wrapped up in a neat little bow, I’ll probably think you’re dumb. Yes, the girl who openly admits to watching Pretty Little Liars and Hart of Dixie will think you’re dumb. I don’t like it when Life of Pi is compared to Avatar because Avatar sucked enormously. Life of Pi had stunning visuals with really intellectual themes. Even now, a day later, I’m still thinking about it. So watch it if you can. It’s one of the best films I’ve seen in a while. The director, Ang Lee, is just such an interesting guy. I think he’s got an amazing storytelling ability. Here you have this funny little Taiwanese man who has beautifully told Jane Austen’s English period drama Sense & Sensibility with as much richness as the western Brokeback Mountain, and now weaves the wonderful story of survival, the inter-connectedness of life, and fantasy/reality in such an incredible way.

In other events, T-Minus one week until Ali and her gentleman caller pay a visit to Minnesota. Wooo!

This made me laugh. A lot.

14 Feb

Just a hilarious voicemail I received at work yesterday morning. No, my name is not Tierra. And no, Estella, I will not call you back.

PS – No matter how many times you say “Hello?!” into the phone, it’s a voicemail. No one can hear you.

PPS – One of the 10,000 reasons I don’t want to live in Jersey. Sheesh, do ya hear that accent?

Hello?!

-Kenz

A Quick, Funny Story

8 Feb

I was cleaning out my desk drawers today, and I came across one of my Christmas gifts from my stepgrandparents. I always look forward to their gift since they have a knack for getting me thoughtful things that are also really cool. Last year, it was a cheeseboard for serving fancy cheeses to guests (I didn’t even know I wanted that. Now I do!!). This year’s assortment of goodies included this little item:

Photo on 2013-02-08 at 12.06

It’s essentially a ponytail holder with fluffy furballs on it. Well, not essentially. That’s exactly what it is. I was a little perplexed as to the purpose of this (un)fashionable piece.

Photo on 2013-02-08 at 12.13

I showed it to my mom to see if she could make heads or tails of how to wear it without looking like a complete freak. She stared at it for a few seconds, then stuck it between her legs thusly:

Photo on 2013-02-08 at 12.08 #3

And yelled, “Rabbit testicles!” That be my mother.

On another note, if anyone wants a ponytail holder with rabbit test-,I mean furballs on it, I’m selling one for super cheap.

Can’t Function Today.

26 Sep

My failings today have been comical. As it’s my last week of unemployment (yay!!!) I am soaking up the last of my time off since I will very shortly be back to being a contributing member of society. I was pretty lazy most of the morning until I decided to stop watching Netflix and build something.

Yesterday I went to IKEA and bought a bookcase I’ve had my eye on for a while. My old bookshelf came from Target and cost $30. Three years ago when I was putting it together I put it together all wrong and had to redo it. It took forever to “fix” and has been a little ghetto ever since. Today I thought I was being so so so careful to follow all the instructions as clearly as possible. I thought I had done it perfectly. Until. Until I lifted it up and noticed that the top piece on the shelf had been screwed in backwards. The unfinished rough plywood was totally showing. And this time there was no taking it apart and trying again. It was in there for good. I ended up Macgyver-ing some of the “finished” looking fake wood from the back of my other bookshelf (luckily the same color) and using wood glue to attach it to the unfinished piece on my new bookcase. And while up close you can probably tell something’s up, it’s not super noticeable. Whew! But seriously, I love how even though I was trying SO hard to put it together correctly, I still messed up. The bookcase also has these two doors that go with it. I had to leave for class and was totally confused how to attach them, so I’ll leave it for tomorrow. That being said, my living room is a total cluster of books right now.

I left for class in a rush since I was leaving a few minutes later than I usually do. I ran down to my underground parking garage holding my purse, laptop, cheese sandwich made from the end slices of the loaf, keys, and a bag of kitty litter. And in my rush to hurry, I threw not the dirty litter in the dumpster, but my keys. And they flew up in the air in a way that gave me enough time to shout “Fuuuuuck” in my head. LUCKILY, the garbage had just been emptied today. I can’t imagine if it had been full and slipped between the garbage bags to the bottom of the dumpster. I moved so quickly, that I even surprised myself at my resourcefulness! I moved a large can of paint into the dumpster to help me out once I got in, moved a cart to help me in, and then I whipped my shirt off. Hey, it’s from anthropologie. I wasn’t about to go into a dump with it on. I landed with a thud into the grime covered dump and grabbed my keys which were now covered in a grayish slime. I found a piece of stray cardboard, wiped my hands off as best I could on it, and threw my shirt back on. And no one saw me! I could only imagine one of my old neighbors catching me standing in the middle of the dump in my bra. How to go about explaining that… I left the paint can in the dump, so sorry apartment people, looks like it’s getting thrown away. I ended up using about half my antibacterial spritz on my hands and keys. AND… I wasn’t late to class.

So I am a frazzled mess today, but I certainly can be thrifty!

It’s Bred For Its Skills In Magic.

11 Aug

Ligers are real, you guys. Ligers are actually real. Whhaaa? Is this common knowledge?

So it’s Friday night. Got to get down on Friday! Or…even better stay in bed with your laptop and watch a Discovery Channel show about big cats on Hulu. Oh, and my cat is watching with me. #imnotaloser

It ended with them discussing the “ultimate cat” which is the liger.

Napoleon Dynamite Liger Scene

While it doesn’t look like this:

It does look like this:

Mind.Blown. A liger “is not naturally occurring in nature” and is born when a male lion is bred with a female tiger. For some unknown science-y reason, ligers are HUGE! They can be as big as their mother and father combined!

Seriously though. How did I not know they were real?

This is me and Lucy. I’m a lunatic making her learn about her brethren. She’s super happy about this.

Big Girls Don’t Cry (Unless It’s Ridiculous)

14 Jul

I, Ali Jepsen, have an odd relationship with tears.  I almost never cry out of sadness, and when I do, it is so long after the event that I’m upset about that I almost can’t remember why I’m upset.  However, there are several things that will make me cry instantly, and they are ridiculous.  I’m not saying it’s stupid to cry, I’m saying that the things I cry at, more often than not, do not deserve to be cried over.  I know a lot of people have these “tear triggers,” but lately I’ve had a few conversations with friends over this phenomenon so I decided to compile a list of the things that consistently make me bawl.  Feel free to laugh at me about it; I do all the time.

A Little Princess: Sara & Captain Crewe Reunited Scene

If you were a girl (or maybe a guy) growing up in the ’90s, it’s highly likely that you saw A Little Princess.  If you’re like me, you probably saw it close to 500 times.  Everyone who has seen this movie knows that the scene when (spoiler alert!) Sarah’s father, Captain Crewe,  gets over his amnesia and runs after his daughter while she is being dragged off by police is a tearjerker.  You would have to be completely heartless not to be touched by it.  However, you would think that after watching this movie into the ground that I would get over intensely sobbing at this scene.  Sorry, no.  I have literally NEVER watched this part of the movie without crying at least some.  I think this moment really gets to me because my reasons for crying at it have changed over the years.  When I was younger, I just marveled at the miracle of a father and daughter being reunited.  When I got older, the thought of a cute little girl (who incidentally reminds me a lot of my cousin) nearly being taken away from her father was too much to bear.  I don’t know if I’ll even be able to handle watching this scene when I have kids.  I’ll probably break out into convulsive spray tears.

 

Homeward Bound: Sassy, Chance, Shadow, et al Reunited Scene

In the same ’90s vein as A Little Princess, the last scene of Homeward Bound always gets to me.  Even though one of Kenz’s and my first bonding moments was making fun of the way Shadow says/thinks “Ohhhh Peterrrrrrr . . .”, I also cry as I laugh.  I sit there and tell myself how crazy I am while tears come down my face and schizophrenic laugh/cry (craugh) noises come out of my mouth.  It’s all very attractive.  Also, “craugh” is now a word.  Feel free to use it as I just have, or you can use it as punny wordplay,”That play was so melodramatic that I nearly craughed my pants!”  (“Craugh your pants” (verb phrase): when you cry and laugh so hard that you lose your bowels.)

 

Hy-Vee Summer Olympics 2008 Shawn Johnson Commercial

Maybe it was because I was super emotional the summer of 2008 since I had just graduated from college, but this Hy-Vee commercial brought on the waterworks something awful.  Perhaps it was the mix of Olympic glory and Iowa pride that got me going.  Whatever it was, I got made fun of a lot before and during the Games because of it.  To be truthful, when I searched for the video on YouTube and watched it again, a few tears still escaped me.  You may be retired, Shawn, but you doing it all “with a smile” still makes me emotional and proud as hell.

 

Disney’s The Little Match Girl Short

Of all my tear triggers, this one in particular stands alone because it also makes me mad.  Imagine, if you will, me a couple years ago sitting on my couch and checking out the DVD extras on the anniversary edition of The Little Mermaid while waiting to go to work (as one does).  I start watching a clip where a Disney animator talks about how much he loves reading Hans Christian Andersen stories to his daughters.  He was so inspired by working on The Little Mermaid that he decided he would also make a movie short of The Little Match Girl, one of HCA’s other works.  Of course I was intrigued by this man’s love of the story, so I watched the short film which was also included on the extras.  Ho. ly. Crap.  Nothing in me was prepared for how devastating this story is.  By the film’s conclusion, I was sitting alone on my couch with my shoulders heaving and crying so hard that my throat hurt (You know the throat cry.  Sounds like: huuuuhh, huuuuhh, huuuuuuhhhh . . .).  Here I thought I would be watching a sweet little kid movie, when in reality the hopeful innocence within me was brutally beaten with a club.  Once I finally got the tears to stop flowing, I got angry.  SOMEONE should have prepared me for such unnecessary sadness!  I don’t know if I was mad at this animator, Disney for funding him and putting the film on a classic childhood movie, or at Hans Christian Andersen himself.  All this story does is kill happiness -but of course I’ve included it here so you can be mad with me.  Hopefully I’ve prepared you enough so that the morbidness of it won’t run your soul through with a steak knife.  Even now, I still tear up when thinking about the story –and that only works to tick me off all over again.

 

This Article About Santa Impersonators

I know, I just used the word “impersonator” to describe people who play Santa.  As if Santa is like Elvis, or something.  Psh, everyone knows Santa is more real than Elvis.  Or at least more real than Elvis still being alive and/or being abducted by aliens.  In any case, this article about the men who play Santa professionally got me weepy.  Perhaps it made me recall when “Santa” would come to my house and wouldn’t be quite quiet enough not to wake me up.  Ah, how I loved those times when my body would be paralyzed with the need to see Santa in the flesh, and the fear that he would yell at me for sneaking up on him and watching his magic in action.

 

Pampers/UNICEF Commercial

This commercial is so potent with cry material that I used to tear up just talking about it.  Pampers (yes, as in the diaper company, as I had to clarify with my incredulous friend Mark) partnered with UNICEF a few years back on a campaign that gave one vaccine for every pack of diapers sold.  The commercial is actually kind of bad since it perpetuates certain stereotypes and is shamefully cheesy, but I can’t help but lose it when the baby in a Siberian poncho hugs the whitey suburban mom’s leg.  Is it because of the cute, needy babies?  Or is it because I want to believe that yuppie white people can save the world?  Who knows.  I might be better off not analyzing this one.

 

If you’ve gotten through all of these articles and clips and haven’t teared up, congratulations, you are a stronger person than I am.  Either that, or someone has surgically removed your heart, and you’d better look into that.  Let me know if you have any of your own forays into ridiculous cries.  After seeing this list, you can bet that I certainly won’t judge you.

At Laaaaaast!

22 Mar

Sung in the style of Etta James, of course. Ali and I were (at last!) reunited this past weekend. Of course it was ridiculously short, but we managed to cram a lot of awesomeness into a couple days. Mi hermano (Who is this Hermano? Anyone get that reference? Anyone?…) was also in town this weekend to be all awesome and go to a law school orientation thingy. Cause yeah. He’s starting law school in St. Paul this fall. I’mprettyexcitedforthis. The weekend was packed with lots of coolness, and I am pretty sad it’s over.

Ali came in on Friday morning and I took her around the Grand Ave area of St. Paul where we ate lunch at Punch Pizza. Seriously delish. It’s kind of the place I take people who come to town… mostly so I can eat there again. I went to Anthrolpologie for the first time ever. Half the time I ran around drooling screaming, “ME WANT!” The other half I of the time I judged it. There is some pretty ca-razy stuff there that you’d have to be crazy and/or famous to pull off.

You can’t really tell in my picture, but mine is a sheer, belly length vest thing. Probably belonged to Princess Jasmine at one point. Ali’s is adorbs, but I think a Muppet may have been killed to make it. On the left is a nightie with mushrooms on it. It also has a pocket by the boobs. Probably to keep midnight snacks in. Ali obviously bought it.

We went to Primp, which calls itself a “cheap chic boutique.” It kind of reminds me of Francsca’s, so obviously I’m lovin’it. Bought yet another summer dress (Don’t judge me. Yes, I am still unemployed and it’s still just March, but it caaaalled to me. I needed it. Shhhh.) Then because we are so thrifty and economical we went to the store and got stuff to make dinner. And I made mojitos, which were so good. Get in ma belly good.

After some mmmmojitos we freshened up and met one of my grad school friends for some more drinks. Don’t judge. We ended up going to this place called The Muddy Pig in St. Paul. This is a cool bar not too far from mi apartamento. I was first taken there by Jerkface McLoserpants (guy I dated that one time a few blog posts ago) and ever since the demise of that whole thing, I’ve always driven past The Muddy Pig and given it the stink eye. Stupid Muddy Pig. I needed to go there and have a new experience so that I could go to that bar again without feeling craptastic. The experience Ali gave me to remember (and I shan’t forget!) is to put her feet up on the bar for about 20 seconds. She actually managed to disgust this guy, who we concluded is probably the bar’s namesake.

And then I judged him pretty harshly. See the evidence:

Good, nay, grand times had by all. Afterwords we proceeded to Moscow on the Hill. Very trendy Russian place with a lovely patio. And yeah, it’s March and we were patio-ing like champs. Love.it.

The amazing thing about Ali is that you can pretty much put her in any kind of social situation and she’ll thrive. She’s so awesome around new people. I didn’t have to worry for a second that it would be weird to hang out with her and my friend Katie I met in grad school. Katie is actually not continuing the grad program and moving back to Alaska. This is really sad for me since she’s kind of awesome. But maybe now I have someone to visit whenever I get myself to Alaska? Silver lining??

Saturday we got up and walked about Lake Calhoun in Uptown Minneapolis. It’s exactly 3.2 miles around, or 5K. We did one lap and all I could think about was that in a couple months I’ll be running over 4 times that amount. It definitely put it into perspective since when you look at the lake it seems so big. Then popped over to Isle Bun and Coffee in Uptown for a scone. Minneapolis-ans. Get yourself there for a scone asap. Worth it.

My mom and sister came up as well and spent most of the weekend with Nick scoping out all the trendy places he might live. He’s clearly more hip than me since I think he’ll end up in Lowertown in a loft style apartment, and up until last week I’m like, “Lowertown? Where’s that??” I’m living in a totally residential neighborhood with hallways that frequently smell of an old lady’s bathroom, well, when they don’t smell of rotting corpses. He’s officially more hip than me. One thing I do have is a pretty spacious deck which up until this weekend was decked out with not a damn thing. So my wonderful and lovely mother bought me an outdoor table and chair set. I’m actually sitting out here now, blogging my little heart out. Thanks, Mom! But since there were 4 people in her car (dumb) with big table and chairs, getting them back to my place was…ah…tricky. We made it work,. Ali scrunched down with no room in the back and I sat on my sister’s lap. NBD.

Saturday night was our night to go downtown. Downtown Minneapolis is really fun. It would be a lot more fun if I had a personal driver, since I loathe LOATHE the parking situation down there. Luckily, we were able to find a ramp with a relatively cheap fare near the places we wanted to go. Ended up going to The Local and Brit’s Pub. Since it was St. Patrick’s Day, I was somewhat of an outcast in my pink dress. Ah well. I won’t even pretend to be remotely Irish. Cause I’m not. Both places were super fun and Brit’s has a really great rooftop patio. I would gladly recommend it to all. We decided to dress up because it’s fun to do that once in a while. And since we were lookin’ so fine we  had to attempt to look sexy/serious. Fail? Mmmm yeah. Kind of.

Remember that time someone was telling a really boring story and then you found a quarter? Yeah me too!

For realz. I’m the kind of girl who bends over to pick up pennies, so to find a whole quarter was pretty legit. Legit enough to blog about. Wussup?

Aaaaand being that Ali and I were in a bar (or anywhere!) together we had the inevitable encounter with an awkward creep. His name was Brady and he loved us both. Though he might have loved Ali more. Lucky girl that one. On three occasions he came up to our table. On the second occasion he brought an equally creepy friend. We were talking about New Zealand (as one does) and he said, “Yeah, New Zealand! Whatever!” and he and his friend proceeded to leave. So long, farewell, aufedersein, goodbye. Yes? No. He came back and sat next to Ali.

Here is a lovely reenactment of our conversation. I’m so upset we let this winner get away.

However, it was altogether a wonderful night for us to be so sexy in the city. Like Carrie and Miranda. Almost.

On Sunday morning we met my family for a greasy breakfast at Mickey’s Diner in downtown St. Paul. This place is a staple of the cities and was featured in The Mighty Ducks (Charlie’s mom worked there!), Jingle All The Way (Arnold’s Christmas movie circa 1996) and A Prairie Home Companion. It felt kind of dirty and our waitress was not as charming as Charlie’s mom. Quite the contrary, she seemed naggy and pissed about something. Oh well. But the food was greasy and yummy. And it’s such a staple that I am glad we went.

Before we knew it the weekend was over and everyone scattered back to Seattle, Boulder, and Boone. It was such a fantastic weekend that I can’t wait until we plan it again. Maybe this time I will travel to Colorado??

Until next time.