Winter is tardy to Minnesota. It’s December, 50 degrees and people are running around in flip flops. What is going on?
The day started with me bumming around downtown Minneapolis. It was rainy, but I wore red suede shoes anyway.
After participating in a Target fire drill, I eventually end up in Uptown where I sat at the Spyhouse until the internet gave out. I think they prevent lingerers by periodically killing the internet for certain users.
There was a pizza/reality-TV detour, but I eventually mopped the tomato sauce off my face and went to the Eagle and met Mike and Jack there. The Eagle was pretty low-key so we eventually end up at Jetset.
Of course Casey and entourage are outside of Jetset, raising hell. Mike and I did the screaming “Hayyy girl!” greeting and then got our shimmy on with a 8-foot-drag queen and her denim-dress-wearing friend. What a perfectly random night.
The graduation weekend started at the Eagle with Darmor. Kristin and I continue the hilarity at Lush, where they are out of mint yet again.
Mojito-less, we have to resort to a mystery purple drink that tastes just like grape freezy-pops. And no, that is not as tasty as it sounds.
There’s a costume change and the mojito party picks up at Jetset. Richard and Robert are there, as well as Casey and his entourage. The mojitos at Jetset are good but the music is a bit dull, so we begrudgingly decide to go to Krave.
Krave is a seasonal party at Karma nightclub in downtown Minneapolis. I avoided Krave at Karma in the past because it felt like a hassle and a risk. Am I going to hunt down parking, spend $10 on cover and be disappointed when other bars are free? Plus these special-event parties tend to be on bad homework weekends… Excuses, right?
Well, I got over myself and went. And lawd,
It was like a miniature version of South Beach’s Score nightclub. The theme was Jersey Shore so you know Kristin rocked the Snooki bump.
There are also a few JWowws skipping around and a lot of fist pumping. I love it! The DJ sticks to 5-year-old dance hits and the occasional top-40 remix (Enrique). We are all thoroughly underwhelmed but make the best of it by having a mini-runway competition on the upper floors of the club. Verk!
What a hilarious start to the graduation weekend. More hilarity to come.
Downtown Minneapolis was infested with zombies last night for the 6th annual Zombie Pub Crawl. Ghouls lined the streets like it was Halloween, Har Mar Superstar performed, traffic near the West Bank completely backed up, and there was even a zombie walking along the highway.
I didn’t participate in the pub crawl. It started super early (at 3-4pm) when I was still at work, and I couldn’t be bothered to spend money on makeup, ruin a white shirt, pay $10 for a wristband, and $15 for Har Mar. It’s a recession. That’s like four trips to McDonald’s.
After yesterday’s 10-hour workday, I met up with Phillip at the Eagle. We ran into Shannon, who ran into a piece of gum:
Here are some more pictures from Tickles Bar:
I just had a long, amusing day.
Last night I went to the softball fundraiser at The Eagle. The drag queens were hilarious, but one was so drunk that she had to take emergency “powder room” breaks to vomit. We stay classy in Minneapolis…
Doesn’t Buffy look just like Suze Orman?
The boyfriend also broke things off last night.1 We talked by the bar as a drag queen darted behind us to throw up in the bathroom. The timing was great.
It was one of those moments where I felt like an actor in someone else’s movie. All that was missing was “Done with you” slowly fading in and the start of the credits.
Actually, if I was directing, Adele’s “Tired” would come on and I would perform it Bollywood style with a pack of yarking drag queens in the background. That would be awesome.
1 The breakup was amicable and unsurprising. My corporate and international tax books are currently battling as to which class gets to be my rebound.
So I’m at the bar and a Music Professor approaches me. The Professor is tipsy, but friendly. We talk. After a half hour of conversation the Professor asks for a hug.
Professor: “Can I have a hug?”
Me: “Uh, why?”
Professor: “I just want a hug.”
Me: “I’m not a touchy-feely person. Swine flu and all that…”
Professor: “How about a back rub?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Professor: “How about I give you a back rub?”
Me: “Um, No. I’m a law student. I feel better with the tension in my shoulders. Keeps me in fighting mode. Hiyah!”
Professor: “What about a hug?”
Ugh.
So this continues, but we eventually slip back into normal conversation with intermittent hug-pleas, but then:
Professor: “You’re very attractive.”
Me: “Thanks. But that doesn’t make me worth talking to.”
Professor: “But you’re also a law student.”
Me: “Again, another reason why I’m not a good person to talk to. We are a breed of ogre…”
Professor: “But one of my favorite movies is The Paper Chase!”
Me: “I know, you’ve mentioned this.”
Professor: “Go to my facebook page! You will see that I like the Paper Chase!”
Me: “Oh, I believe you.”
Professor: “Can I get a hug?”
The entire time this is happening, Jack and his clique are standing 5 feet from us, POINTING AND LAUGHING! The Professor is facing me so he can’t see the audience of ridicule.
The Professor eventually dived in for a hug and I gave Jack a frantic “GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW” wave.
Jack let me panic for a moment and then responded to my dark threats and rescued me.
Jack slid into the spot next to me. I gasped as if Santa had just arrived and then turned away from the Professor to latch onto Jack like a life raft on the titanic.
It took the Professor about 5 minutes of solid cold shoulder to get the clue, but he eventually left.
Me: “Oh my god. Thank you so much!”
Jack: “Your problem is that you are too nice.”
Hmmf. Maybe.
After a subsequent run-in with the Professor I decided to leave the Eagle and went to the Saloon. There was a little bit of drama at the Saloon – actually, there was a lot of drama. At one point there was a guy decked out on the floor because someone smashed a beer bottle of his head.
At one point there was a guy decked out on the floor because someone smashed a beer bottle of his head, proving once again that Minnesotans are not always nice.
I also spent some time ignorning Mittens.2
Mittens (and his female sidekick, Mittenette) always shoot unsolicited bitchy looks at Phillip and I. But a pair of contacts and a haircut later, Mittens suddenly wanted to talk to me.
Pfft.
1 Talking 21+ bars here.
2 We call him Mittens because he always wears ridiculous half-gloves like an extra in a Lady Gaga video.
The fact that it’s already week 5 of summer is sort of scary.
I’m half-way through my summer classes. My law school application essay was about my desire to become an estate planning/probate attorney, so of course I love my Wills & Trusts class.
Professional Responsibility has also become much easier since I’ve stopped using my laptop. Without the laptop I’m that obnoxious, fully engaged boy. Now if only someone could just stop the girl who sits in front of me from playing full-screen video games…
This has not been a good week for Harley, who was diagnosed with Heartworms. The medicine and animal hospital stay completely discombobulated him:
The night after the hospital stay, Harley and I were leaving my apartment building he starts peeing on downstairs neighbor’s door… I was mortified! I drag him outside, and inadvertently created a trial of urine from the hallway, down the stairs, and out to the street.
And yes. That was joy to clean up. My 4’6 Mexican neighbor pointed and laughed as I scrubbed the floors. And I politely informed him if he found dog poop in front of his door that I wasn’t me…
Awkward moment of the night: I’m at happy hour with J. and this middle aged bald guy with weird eyebrows taps me on the shoulders:
Qball: “Hey, how are you?”
Me: “Hi…?”
Qball: “I know you from somewhere. I don’t know where though.”
Me: “Oh?”
Qball: “Yes. Online. Somewhere.”
Me: “Eh… I don’t think so.”
Qball: “Yes. Definitely. True. Are you on True.com. You messaged me on True.”
Me: “Uh… I don’t think so. I’m not on True.”
(Qball continues for a few minutes, insisting he’s messaged me on True. I couldn’t find a tactful way to say, “No. I am very sure I never messaged you. In a million years. Ever.”)
Qball finally left.
J. shot me a look like, “…hoe.”
J.: “Interesting eyebrows though.”
(I try to wipe the look of mortification from my face.)
After happy hour, Erik, Paige, Dave, and I went to the Kitty Kat Club…which was special. Pictures later today. Erik is setting Miss P up for a date tomorrow! WOO! We’ll see how that goes.
