I sit down in the bathroom, and hear panting.
Posts about Ingrid the Labradoodle and Gunter the Chiweenie.
I really need to do these summaries on a weekly basis because I end up giving short-shrift to everything when I wait two weeks.
What happened these past two weeks? Well, there was school, dates, drag show fabulousness, illness/rice socks, music production, the Minneapolis gay pride parade, diva-dom, and mass awkwardness.
The most exciting thing that happened during the last two weeks is that I finished my first song. Here is the concise version:
Yesterday’s video shoot did not go as planned.
I left work and got my hair fixed in Uptown. The salon was packed with gays and lesbians because everyone needed a hair-update before pride. I almost asked for a cut similar to this lesbian, but I already had a plan for the style that I wanted.
I wait for my stylist for about 30 minutes and awkwardly avoid eye contact with one of my gay professors and his partner. This professor is visibly uncomfortable interacting with gay students outside of school.
The professor is uncomfortable.
I get uncomfortable because he’s uncomfortable.
He gets more uncomfortable…so do I…and it’s just terrible.
I am typing this with a hot, rice-filled sock pressed against my face.
I was sick for most of the week, but this morning I woke up with my eye almost swollen shut. I was convinced that my face was rotting, so I made a desperate call to the school optometrist.
The receptionist said she could “work me in” around 3pm, so my work-day got off to a very late start. I walked the krakens around Calhoun and then spent the rest of the afternoon creating beats in Ableton. The Calhoun walk was pretty, if not a little hot.
Their lives are so hard. Sigh.
It is 3am. Our group is outside of Pizza Luce in downtown Minneapolis, and an oversized bouncer is frisking us for weapons.
The bouncer pats us down, lifts our pant legs, asks for IDs, and then tells us the cover is $4. “Cover” is probably not the right word. It was applied to our pizza, so it was more like a down payment. I still thought all of this was a bit odd for a pizzeria, until I got inside…
After getting searched and charged, we stroll inside and experience the ghettofabulous scene: there were pimp suits, neon mesh leggings, candy colored stilettos, sweated-out weaves, grills, jelly rolls, folds, muffins, and zebras…. It was glorious.
We got our pizza and somehow made it to the Hotel Minneapolis without getting mugged. And although there are better pictures, I think this blurry shot best depicts the zombie-like fashion in which the guys attacked with pizza:
It’s 7am and pouring. Both dogs are glaring at me like “You’re a bad owner. Can I go out now or is that spot on the carpet calling my name?”
So I take them out, knowing that the “why am I wet?” attitude is coming.
We run outside. Both dogs look at me like, “WHY IS IT RAINING? MAKE IT STOP!”
Well, great.
It is raining. I am walking the dogs. So of course I have both leashes in one hand, my blackberry in the other, and a golf umbrella balanced between my cheek and my shoulder.
That’s when I run into my new neighbor, McDreamy, who has some sort of husky mix.
Between the phone, the leashes and the umbrella, I am awkwardly juggling too many things and trying my best not to drop anything. McDreamy wants the dogs to meet but I avoid eye contact because I need to focus on keeping Gertrude from lunging at the husky. She lurches forward and yelps. I almost drop the umbrella.
I look awkward. My dog looks vicious. It’s a giant swagger fail…and I blame her:
I started walking the krakens around Lake of the Isles after our car disaster.
It’s a gorgeous walk:
It’s 1am. Phillip and I are in the car, zipping around downtown Minneapolis. I ramble: “…tomorrow I will go out less, crack down, stay home and focus. From now on. Seriously.”
Phillip lets me ramble, but doesn’t believe it.
This was another cluttered week of work, exercise, dating, and reconnecting with long-neglected friends. Pictures!
I look outside, it looks like rain, but I want to walk the dogs around lake Calhoun, so I check weather.com.
Weather.com says 0% chance of rain.
I look outside again. It looks like the storm before the kraken, but weather.com says 0% chance of rain so I TRUST THE INTERNETS and drive the dogs to the lake. If weather.com had said 1% chance of rain I would not have gone out, but ZERO percent chance…well…I can’t question that!
The skies look so bad on the way to the lake that I expect Nicolas Cage to hop out of a building and give a dead-pan account of how “supernatural whatsits were coming to take over the who-hah…” And of course, the second we get to the lake:
Fail.
I check weather.com on my blackberry. It says 75% chance of rain, plague, and pestilence. I feel like an idiot.
And then Harley glares at me like, “OKAY, FOOL, I NEED TO PEE. BEHOLD MY DROOL.”
And after much fretting, I finally take them out. It rains harder just to spite me. Nicolas Cage warned me of this but no…
After our walk on the set of Umbrella, Harley gives me another glare like, “WHY WOULD YOU TAKE ME OUTSIDE IN THAT BULLSHIT? BAD OWNER! BAD!”
Ugh. I’m damned if I do…
And I am not taking them to Lake Calhoun anymore because it took far too long to clean the back seat of my car after these two hot-shedding-messes…ugh. Never again.
I think I overdid it yesterday.
Yesterday, the sweet sound of garbage trucks woke the dogs up at 5am. I walked the monsters, snuck off to the library, and took my Family Law exam at 8:30.
After the exam I channeled Jillian Michaels for two hours at the gym, walked the dogs again, and then (somehow) ended back in the library to print of copious amounts of international tax law regs.
Class ended (I’ll get to that later) and my first final is tomorrow.
Here are some pictures to prove that this finals season isn’t all about junkies and gloom:
The ersatz police dog:
I heard banging for the past few hours and noticed that the apartment’s lights were on when I went outside with Gertrude, my Rottweiler.
I called the cops and requested to remain anonymous. The cops were already in the building when I got back inside.
I am upstairs. The Rottweiler hears the cops knock on the downstairs apartment as I unlock my door, so the Rottweiler DARTS DOWN THE STAIRS, RUNS PAST THE POLICE OFFICERS, AND RUNS INTO THE JUNKIES’ APARTMENT.
I am horrified.
So I run downstairs, Officer McDreamy is rolling his eyes like “What the fuck, where is this random Rottweiler coming from?!” and my Rottweiler has the pleasure of participating in a police raid.
I am then on the phone with my landlord when the officers shoo the dog back in the hallway. The Rottweiler is terrified because she doesn’t understand why everyone is screaming.
At least I was out of the hallway by the time they started bringing the former-neighbors out of the apartment.
The police officer said that the former-tenants are going to be brought to detox and held there for a few days. There are only a few problems:
I think I’m screwed.
The dog-guest of the week is Judd’s dachshund, Maya.
It is spring in Minneapolis…
Note: the “Best Week Ever” (BWE) posts are summaries of the prior week.
The past two weeks whizzed by. I don’t know what to say.
