I’m not going to make a crack about “Minnesota Passive Aggressive.” Really. I’m not.
I’m not going to make a crack about “Minnesota Passive Aggressive.” Really. I’m not.
Christmas shopping season means that the Mall of America is insufferable on the weekends. At least the decorations are pretty:
It is Saturday night and my car glides through traffic on 494. Whip my Hair is on the radio and I am excited about tonight’s date. Things are awesome.
The awesomeness ends approximately 15 minutes later when I open my apartment door and get smacked by the smell of rotten eggs. Harley is sick and yarked everywhere.
I manage to clean up the copious amounts of yolk-like vomit, take the dogs out, drain the building boiler, and get dressed within 25 minutes. I am not going to be late for this date, dammit!
So of course, when I open the door to leave, I hear “BLARRG!”
Nathan and I leave Pagoda and get on the highway to the movie theater. There is a light rain. Traffic is horrible.
We sit in traffic for a while before we see the accident: one car smashed into a metal barrier, front crumbled, airbags deployed. Two goofy-looking teens stand next to the car in the rain.
Ahead is a SUV facing the wrong direction in the middle of the road. The driver is a frantic-looking blond girl. Traffic moves around her car on the shoulder.
I saw this at the Uptown Rainbow Foods grocery store today:
My first reaction was: “What a fugly box.”
There’s usually a moment on my dog walks where I almost hang Harley in an attempt to prevent him from eating goose poop.
Ick.
Today I tried a new tactic: the epic flip-out. And it worked! Harley dove for a piece of goose crap and violence ensued.1 I try not to get animal abuse-y, especially in public, but it was totally worth it because Harley wouldn’t even look at the poop after that.
I took them on a second walk around lake Calhoun this evening and had no issues. Great success. And yes, I plan on doing the same thing if my future children even get NEAR goose crap. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife.
It’s supposedly going to snow tomorrow, so I took the krakens around the lake one last time.
More randomness around Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota tuition protest posters still cake campus:
What a long, exhausting day.
I tried to call the IRS for a clinic client three times today. The first two IRS agents refused to talk to me because I don’t have my CAF1 number yet. They wouldn’t let me fax my power of attorney and special order, claimed not to have access to fax, and it was just ridiculous.
I think I found where the neighborhood hippies live. And I wondered where that pot smell came from!
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about dolls that represent positive images for children, but I’m not sure about Trichelle…
