Here are some more pictures of the University of Minnesota rowing team (and others). I’m almost finished editing the entire set. Click on the thumbnails to see larger versions.
Here are some more pictures of the University of Minnesota rowing team (and others). I’m almost finished editing the entire set. Click on the thumbnails to see larger versions.
I heard the scratching, but couldn’t get to the bed before the sheets were ripped:
Joel took me to my first Hockey game tonight: The Minnesota Wild season opener vs. the Anaheim Ducks.
There was action:
Suspense (They came back from 3-0 and the game went into overtime!)
Drammy:
Oh and of course a pile-up:
I took an offensive amount of pictures. I will post them soon.
I’m studying at Wilde Roast today.
I walked up to the Barista to order:
Me: “May I have a large coffee for here?”
Barista: “Sure. Is this something to take the edge off or sharpen up?”
I point to the 10-inch stack of books at my table – Conflicts, Environmental Law, Tax Law, and Taxation statutes.
Me: “To sharpen up. I have reading to do.”
Barista: “Yikes! Are you a law student or something?”
Me: “Actually, I am.”
The most important lesson I learned as a history and English major in undergrad is not to be afraid of large books. It’ll take some hours, but if can manage to wade through Huxley, Joyce, and lengthy treatises on Stalinism then anything is possible.
Dear Mr. Postman,
I understand my apartment building has small, dated mailboxes.
I feel your pain. Really. I do.
I understand that I don’t empty my mail every day like I should.
I (again) feel your pain. Truly.
But this sir, is some bullshit:
I know Glenn Beck is not making the most pleasant face here, but did you really have to wad up my Time Magazine with your greasy little hands?
Why didn’t you wad up the mailbox-spam from the Tribune? Why didn’t you wad up the community magazines that no one actually reads? Heck, why didn’t you wad up my heating bill?
Why my Time magazine? Why why why?
And this isn’t the first time you’ve wadded up my precious Time Magazine! Every time I pull out my wrinkled magazines in the coffeeshop people look at me like I’m a crazy wino.
And I blame you. And so does Harley:
It was only around 75 degrees when I walked my dog this morning, but I still felt gross and sticky. I thought “Why can’t winter just get here already?!” and then I remembered:
And of course: The day I bought a face mask.
I figure I shouldn’t complain about 75 degrees when I have a good five months coming up where I don’t have to worry about being “too warm.”
RSS/Facebook readers: Click here if you cannot see the picture or video.
I ran into one of those corny poster-sales on campus and realized that I could probably find something cheap to cover my large bare walls.
Ta-da!
The poster of the woman is actually huge (4×6 feet) the guy with the camera is the generic Target-picture that came with my poster frames. I just cut out the ad-like bottom portion.
The picture that caught most of the flash is of a couple sitting at an all-night cafe.
I also have a print of Waterhouse’s Lady of Shalott above my desk to keep things fancy:
The pictures definitely make the apartment look cozier, but Harley has not commented yet…
Jack’s boyfriend dumped him on Friday, so we went to the clubhouse, and my job was to play wingman/matchmaker.
Jack’s problem is that he’s absolutely oblivious at the bar and never notices when someone is hawking him. We eventually come across a guy who looks like Seth Rogen. Seth not only shoots Jack the eye, but completely turns around in his seat to gawk!
Of course Jack does not notice this guy practically falling out of his seat to look at him, so it is time for me to go to work as cupid.
Seth and his sidekick go to the dance floor. I grab Jack and go into hot pursuit. On the dance floor I walk up to Seth’s sidekick and tell her that Jack is interested in her friend.
What does Jack do? He flees the room!
It took 10 minutes for me to convince Jack to go back to the dance floor. Once I coax Jack back, Seth’s sidekick and I practically shove Jack on the dance stage (seen here), and Seth grabs Jack and goes to work.
For the next half hour the sidekick and I awkwardly dance together and watch Seth dry hump dance with Jack.
Seth was sort of slimy…but at least he was interested?
We eventually leave the room and go back to the bar. That’s when Seth apologizes to Jack:
Seth: “Oh, I totally mistook you for my friend John! You look JUST like him! But hi.”
I gasp. Jack glares at me.
Dammit. The one time that I’m actually sure that someone is interested in Jack it turns out to be a case of mistaken identity! Drats. Drats. Drats!
A few minutes later Jack is chatting up Seth’s sidekick and Seth comes over to talk to me. He tells me that he’s 23 years old and that he is studying “prelaw” at some no-name university. Seth tells me that his ex stole his money and that he wants to sue. Seth tells me that he went to undergrad in Arizona before dropping out… the longer this fool talked the less attracted he became.
I open my mouth to ask Seth about his “prelaw” classes when he suddenly lunges forward and inserts his dragon-breath tongue down my throat.
I am absolutely mortified. We are in a crowded portion of the bar and this guy who is SUPPOSED to be interested in my newly-single friend is now molesting me! Fail.
I politely shove Seth Rogen off and spit out his spit into a napkin.
Both Jack and Seth’s sidekick are glaring at me. I’m suddenly a homewrecker.
Seth disappears to the restroom and Jack and I linger around with Seth’s sidekick. During my small talk with the sidekick I learn that Seth is “maybe 21” and definitely living with his parents….
Seth’s sidekick is a heavy girl that looks like a boiled-over clam. I chat her up but she looks terribly bored. After 30 minutes and no word from Seth, we become concerned. The three of us then go from room to room looking for Seth.
We can’t find him.
After an exchange of texts, the sidekick informs us that Seth had been waiting outside of the club for the past half hour because he fell over the fence of the smoker’s area and didn’t want to pay cover to get back into the club.
The sidekick excuses herself and we say good riddance.
The rest of the night was fun, but I didn’t find another guy for Jack…and I’m not sure that he wanted me to. Ugh.
I read a lot of animal hoarding and cases at work, but last Sunday I came across a case that was so horrifying that I almost went home.
The case involved the typical hoarding situation: a house stuffed like Noah’s Arc and caked with feces. The description of the house so gruesome however, that I just wanted to speed home, shower, and bleach my entire apartment.
My standards for cleanliness have definitely changed over the past few years. I have a lot of plants, a pet frog, and Harley.
Crumbs, dog hair, and dead leaves are now a fact of life. I clean on a biweekly basis but there is no way to teach the dog to stop shedding, or keep the apartment perfectly sterile.
Only three people have seen my apartment, and they would probably agree that it is relatively clean. But when I read the case last Sunday my kitchen trash was full, the dishes piled, and the laundry unfolded. I was so absolutely disgusted that I devoted all of yesterday to cleaning. The case is after the jump.
School starts tomorrow so I’m scrambling to get all my supplies and cleaning done for the semester.
This involved yet another furniture move – which is the last one for the semester, I swear.
Oh, and although I’m no Rachel Zoe, I do have a little wall of shoes going on.
There’s actually a bit of a back story to the cleaning frenzy, which I will explain later.
The vice president of the University of Minnesota just sent out an email:
Yesterday, the University of Minnesota Police Department issued a Public Safety Alert regarding a shooting that occurred just off campus. This Public Safety Alert was the fourth issued in just over a week, and it’s unfortunate that this spate of crimes has occurred as students are returning to campus and the University community is preparing for the 2009-10 academic year.
The alerts are sent out because the University of Minnesota is committed to the safety of our students, faculty, and staff, and in compliance with the federal Clery Act.
Alerts are not intended to alarm or frighten anyone.
Really? Let’s see, here are some gems from the University of Minnesota’s public safety department:
I’m reliving orientation as an orientation assistant. The law school is really responsive to student feedback, so a lot of the boring and useless things from last year’s orientation were axed. Some of the 1Ls were still bored, but they have no idea how much better their orientation is.
Besides an awkward, overlong vegetable analogy, orientation has gone well. None of the speakers said anything crazy and none of the 1Ls irreparably embarrassed themselves. I think asking for anything more is unrealistic.
We even did a quick etiquette session in my orientation group where the other orientation leaders and I told the 1Ls how not to be obnoxious.
I figure if my 1Ls can avoid doing those five things, they’ll be fine.
I thought about writing a grand “1L summer retrospective” post, but that would be duplicative of my “one year in Minnesota” post and way too exhausting to do right now, so, quickly, the highlights of summer:
The summer was hilarious, but I’m ready to start the school year.
My bedroom window was stuck open for most of the summer.
I was too lazy to call the maintenance people, but this wasn’t a big deal because my apartment is not air conditioned and my windows are open most of the time.
I only had the urge to close my window in the middle of the night when there was thunder or police drama outside. These midnight fix-it attempts always failed because there is only so much wrestling I can do with the window before I remember that I’m exposing my underbritches to the entire neighborhood.1
So, I would give up, and forget about the window problem.
The low point was a few days ago when there was a huge storm that blew directly into my window.
I got frustrated today and decided to stop moving furniture.
I figured if I couldn’t come up with a better layout for my apartment during the summer, then it’s not going to happen during the semester.
Exactly which neighbor had their pets confiscated was a mystery until yesterday when I ran into Maggie.
Maggie lives down the hall, right next door to Yesina. Maggie is always aware of all the building gossip so of course she knew whose pets were taken:
Maggie: “Oh, that was the guy who lives above me. You didn’t know?”
Me: “No…”
Maggie: “Yeah, he was this morbidly obese guy who would never walk his dog. It was a sad, deranged looking thing. He would only let it pee and poop right in front of the building and never let anyone pet it or touch it. It was strange. Well, he died. And god knows how long he was in there because they had to go in with hazmat masks and everything. I think the pets were in there with him for several days. I called the animal shelter to make sure that the poor thing wasn’t going to be put down but some rescue group had already snatched him up…”
Oh my goodness.
Yesterday, I got home from work around midnight.
Working long or odd hours usually isn’t a problem for the dog, unless he has an upset stomach.
So of course, when I open my apartment door I immediately smell that this is one of those nights where Harley made a bullmastiff-sized welcome home surprise.
I let the dog out of the kennel and he skips off to his food bowl. I then grab a trash bag, paper towels, and the bleach.
The little kennel-disaster made me forget about my parking situation: I parked in the nearby business parking lot again because the plan was to just quickly get the dog and move the car.
Now, some of you remember that the last time I parked in that lot, I saw a shooting and had to run from the shooter. And you’d think I would have learned my lesson, but I didn’t. Obviously.
So I finish scooping all of nast out of the kennel and stand up just in time to see a tow truck flying down the street towards my car!
I drop the trashbag full of dog-mess, grab Harley’s leash, and then flee the building like I just saw bejeweled crocs. I run across the street with the dog dragging behind me, waiving my arms – “STOOOOOOOP DON’T TOW MEEEEEEH! I’M A POOR LAW STUDENT!”
I look pathetic enough for the tow truck driver to let me off the hook.
Tower: “I didn’t have you hooked up yet, so you can go.”
Me (gasping): “Thank you, I was just getting my dog……and uh, thank you!”
The tow truck driver’s girlfriend glares at me from the truck. I wink.1
The closest parking space is a few blocks away. I park, walk the dog back to the apartment, chuck the trash bag of surprises, and then decide that it is a good time to go to Wal-Mart since my apartment reeks of bleach and dog poop.
So Harley and I walk back to the car, and go to Wal-Mart.2
What I really needed from Wal-Mart was canned food. I eat mostly fresh food, but once in-a-while I use canned vegetables. And canned vegetables are one of those things best bought in bulk, from Wal-Mart, in the middle of the night…sort of like tiolet paper.
So of course all of the canned-food isles are “closed for waxing” and I was the guy randomly buying nothing but dog treats at 1 a.m.
At least Harley didn’t seem to mind…
1 Now who the heck called my car in at midnight?
2Wal-Mart is by my job actually, so there was a LOT of backtracking that night.
I used to keep a photo blog, which was integrated into this blog.
Here are some of my favorites:
Things got churchy tonight:
I think it’s too pretty to abut a highway, but the overpass gave a good perch to shoot the church. I finally got a tripod at Wal-Mart, and I was able to take the night shots without awkwardly finding something to steady the camera.
I took the dog along for the shoot because I knew the park would be sketch-tastic at that hour (3am). I was right. There were two goons who tried to approach me but backed off once they saw the Bullmastiff. It would be better if I could get Harley to snarl at people, but that’s not his style. I’m also continually amazed by the cycling culture in Minneapolis. There are bikers every where at all hours, including the park at 3am.
The gas tank was low so I went to the Super America in Northeast. On the way I ran into the Ukrainian Catholic Church (St. Constantine) That’s where the statue is from.
I’ve officially been in Minnesota for a year. There are already extensive summaries of fall semester and spring semester, so I’ve decided to pick a picture/memory to represent each month.
Here it goes:
August: Exploring Twin Cities
September: school starts, law students riverdance.
October: Let’s talk about the weave
November: Outlining…oh, and Fedde Le Grand/Moon Goons!
I went to drop off my rent check at the property management office1 and ran into my landlord in front of the building:
Landlord: “Hey! How are things? How’s the building?”
Me: “The building is nuts. I feel like I live in an episode of Cops.”
Landlord: “It’s Yesina isn’t it?”
Me: “Yes. She was arrested two weeks in a row!”
Landlord: “I’m really sorry about that. That woman is a fucking idiot. I am trying to kick her out, but these things take time – you understand that don’t you? I’m not even going through a normal eviction because she’s got to go!”
So it looks like Yesina’s days are numbered. The question is: will she leave with a bang?
And: can I convince some sane law students2 to take her place?
1 It’s on my way to work. I always hand deliver my rent because no one ever believes that the rent check was lost in the mail.
2 Total oxymoron.