I love the signs in downtown Minneapolis.
Apparently I had a second folder of pictures of the Minneapolis Gay Pride Parade. Woops.
We have Senator Al Franken:
She’s from finals, but I forgot to post the picture here:
I am so glad that one of my coworkers is at Dunn Brothers tonight. Now I am not the only witness to the batshit-crazy going on the corner.
There is a bloated, 15-person group in the corner which looks like a book club. Tonight’s theme is “outsiders and specialness” and the conversation contains such gems as:
Middle Aged Lady: “Can I tell you guys something? When I was young I thought I was special. I thought was really special! I thought I was so special that I thought I would have a virgin birth! And it has taken me 55 years to realize I AM NOT SPECIAL. I AM NOT SPECIAL AT ALL!”
Finals are approaching so I am spending some serious time studying at coffee shops:
It sounds nerdy and perverse now, but this is exactly how I envisioned law school as a college senior. What was I thinking?
Things got a little weird at Dunn Brothers yesterday.
I first noticed a naked, oddly painted mannequin on the balcony of the apartment above the café.
Then, when I got inside of the café, I set my stuff down and went towards the restroom. I opened the door and surprised a little old man who apparently didn’t know how to work the door lock. I was horrified. I quickly closed the door as he started peeing on the wall in shock. SO embarrassing.
I then sat back down and recognized a nearby gay couple. They were at this Dunn Brothers cafe the last time I was here, last September.
They are an odd couple, not only because one of them looks like Tracy Morgan, but because they had one those “status of the relationship/our feelings” conversations that is WAY too intimate for a crowded café. It was gloriously awkward, and my friend Mike and I were amused.
So of course, five months later, I run into this same couple in the middle of the very same awkwardly intimate conversation. Déjà vu!
A hearse pulled into the parking lot as I left the cafe.
There was blood (hopefully) painted on the back window of the hearse, which was driven by a soda-toting hipster who I’m pretty sure lives in the naked-mannequin apartment. Somehow that’s not surprising.
We had a mannequin as our floor mascot in the dorms one year. The freshmen found it in South Beach, brought it back to campus in cab, and clothed it with stolen clothes from the laundry room. It rotated from room to room, and was pretty random, and fun. I kinda want a mannequin now…
I have been reading for corporate tax at the Spyhouse for several hours now. My table is cluttered:
It takes some serious bum-glue to finish the corporate tax reading.
There is a lot of information and I have to take breaks before my eyes glaze over and I start seizing. It’s like pausing before pouring more water down a drain lest it overflows.
I am here for another hour, and then I will skip down to Eagan to make an appearance at the office. I need to finish the reading for corporate tax today, so I will probably insert some study periods into my work day.
My tax professor uses an “expert” system, which is essentially a preset schedule of who will be called on. There are 2-3 “experts” assigned for each day, but the list is not updated to accommodate people who drop the course, so there is always the chance that I will be the only one on call for the entire class.
I can see it now:
Professor A: “Mr. Jansen! Does this redemption of stock qualify as a termination of interest under §302(b)(3)?”
Me: “Um, well, I personally believe that U.S. Americans and …uh, suchas… maps?”
I guess the worse-case scenario is that I sound ditzy and clueless in class, which is not unusual or as embarrassing as my seat collapsing… but then again, that could happen too…
Today’s stop at the Uptown Spyhouse Coffee Shop was a bit of a mess.
I wanted to blog before heading to work, but finding seating was harder than usual. I eventually snagged a seat at the counter among the Mac users and ordered coffee before realizing that there were no plugs in the area.
There were not even any plugs within “obnoxiously stretching it/creating a tripping hazard” distance. I wanted to edit pictures for the blog, but my crappy-overpriced law school-issued laptop doesn’t display on full brightness unless it’s plugged in. So I was screwed.
The upside was that I was sitting by some pretty cute guys and a fun Trubble statue:
I walked to the front of the café, saw an open seat with a plug, and then scurried to grab my stuff.
The new seat was taken by the time I got my stuff, so I stood awkwardly in the middle of the café with my bag and half-full mug. Then someone took my counter seat. I felt like the loser in a game of musical chairs.
I chugged my coffee and then relocated to the Lake Street Dunn bros.
This is one of my least favorite cafes because the baristas are uncomfortably awkward. Tall gawky barista is sometimes visibly high….but there are always seats and plugs, which facilitate blograting, (new word) so no complaints here.
It’s rusty, it’s crusty, and it’s poorly aged, but I love the Grain Belt Beer sign by the Hennepin Avenue Bridge.
Below are some thumbnails. Click the images to see larger versions.
More Minneapolis photography on No.634: