I think I found where the neighborhood hippies live. And I wondered where that pot smell came from!
I think I found where the neighborhood hippies live. And I wondered where that pot smell came from!
The tree leaves colored, launched themselves from their branches, and blanketed every corner of Minneapolis. The leaves are crunchy too! Walking around feels like smashing Sun Chips, minus the faux-healthy chip grease and glaring janitor.
Alesus and I are outside of the Uptown Suburban World Theater, having beverages and people watching.
The manger comes out and moves a sandwich board into a metered parking spot. This placement looks awkward, so a waitress suggests that he put the sign on the trash can in front of the restaurant.
Manager: “Hm, sure that looks real appetizing. They’ll come right on it!”
And then he puts the sign up:
I didn’t want to take the hike to Cub, the local cheap grocery chain, so I went to the nearby chichi grocery store named Kowalski’s. You know a place is fancy when you’re shopping on carpet.
I was tempted at the check-out lane, but not by the trashy magazines:
I resisted. Trying to be more Knowles than Hudson.
We actually have several chichi grocery stores in the city – Lunds, Byerly’s, Trader Joe’s – and several farmer’s markets. Kowalski’s is pricey, but Lunds is the only place where I have ever paid $15 for grapes.
This was awesome:
And this the bumper sticker:
The last time I received a note on my car, it was literally ON my car.
I recently became the foursquare mayor of the Minneapolis Popeyes Chicken. I love that place. I go there every time I order a mouthful of buttery-biscuit goodness with a side of stereotypes.
The best thing about the Lake Street Popeyes is its signage:
So one of my neighbors used a bungee cord to hold up his bumper for the longest time. Now the bumper is riding inside the car:
I’m the caretaker for my building. Part of the caretaker job is showing open units to the ghetto and the crazy, most of whom don’t show up for their appointments:
Me: “Hello, I’d like to speak to KeKe.
Old Lady: “What? Why? Who?”
Me: “KeKe. We had an appointment for an apartment showing at 1pm. It’s 1:15 now…”
Old Lady: “Oh, THE GIRL! Lemme find her…”
KeKe: “Yea?”
Me: “Hi Keke. This is Dennis from the Whittier Apartment building.”
KeKe: “Okay.”
Me: “…uh, well, we had a showing scheduled today for 1pm. It’s 1:15 now. Do you need directions?”
KeKe: “Oh I couldn’t find it.”
It is spring in Minneapolis…
A rehab program rents the apartment underneath mine. This means that junkies camp out in the hallways and loom by the front door of the building until they are let in.
This also means that there is a lot of random screaming in the middle of the night.
Last night’s drunken screamfest was particularly vicious:
On the weekdays I worry about my dogs coming across dead animals.
On the weekends I worry about my dogs coming across my unconscious, sloshed neighbors.
Oh, I am a terrible hypocrite!
I encourage the 1Ls to blog, especially when they are busy. “The busy times are when it is most important to blog!” I say. “You’ll thank yourself for writing!”
So of course I don’t condescend to blog when I get busy. Do as I say, not as I do right? I feel like a governor…
Luckily the free-for-all that is “discussion time” in my family law class is the perfect time to blog! I am so not slacking at this…
So, what happened last week?
Well, the most exciting thing about last week was the heat! I think it got to 80 degrees one day, but maybe I’m exaggerating… maybe it was 90 degrees, or 100…
Regardless, it was warm, and the grass came out:
I feel like half the Salons in the neighborhood have the same cheesy “Shall we dance?” weave/wig ad on the front door:
My apartment building is old and decrepit, aka vintage, so bathroom wall leaks in odd places. This isn’t new.
Two weeks ago I had a mysterious leak from my medicine cabinet. The landlord eventually came, fixed the leak, and said, “OH MY GOD! Look at the water damage to the paint in your bathroom! We need to fix this!”
Turns out that the paint in the bathroom has had water bubbles and stains since before I moved in a year ago…
After a week of scheduling, the painter arrives. I leave the painter (hoping he doesn’t rob me) and walk the dogs around the Lake of the Isles.
I’m walking the dogs when I run into my mailman:
Mailman: “Eek! Those are huge dogs! Makes a mailman wanna piss himself! Are they friendly?”
Me: “Oh, most of the time.”
Mailman: “Heh. Huge all the same. What apartment do you live in?”
Me: “53B.”
Mailman: “53B?”
Me: “Yes.”
Mailman: “I’ll make sure you get your mail on time then.”
Me: “So that’s how to get service!”
This is a problem:
Let’s ignore my dirty car windshield for a second and focus:
Twenty seconds before I took this picture, this man was almost creamed by a school bus. He was drunk and whizzing around the wrong side of the street when the bus came around the corner. It was a motorized hot mess.
What is equally disturbing is that this is not the first man I have seen recklessly driving a motorized wheelchair on the streets. Maybe this phenomenon is due to the group homes in Uptown? Misleading promises of grand canyon trips? Carrie Prejean? I don’t know…
Two bigger traffic hazards in Minneapolis are the tailgating semi-trucks and the bikers. There is a well developed cycling culture in the city, but some cyclists think that things like hand signals and stop-lights are optional, and chaos ensues…then again a lot of the cab drivers think that stop-lights are optional too…
