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!
Alesus and I ended the week eating oysters on the rooftop patio of Stella’s Fish Café in Uptown Minneapolis.
I’m a PC user, but I can still appreciate the cool design of the Uptown Minneapolis Apple store.
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, I wasn’t going to post these blurry pictures of the Townhouse drag show, but then I remembered that I took video with the blackberry too!
The quality is horrid, but here we go:
Summer is fabulous. You can find me at work, biking across the metro area, at cafes, dragging the dogs around the lake, and at home with the new boyfriend, usually watching Jersey Shore or BravoTV online.
During the past two weeks there were also missed apartment showings, foiled robberies, and an usual amount of spoiled food. I also feel perpetually behind in blogging, music production, and laundry. Blame it on the excessive amount of lake time:
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.”
This week was embarrassingly busy. I didn’t even know what day it was during the beginning of the week.
The beginning of the week is a thick, sticky haze, but I think it had something to do with locking myself in my apartment to write my Physical Evidence paper.
The topic was Field Sobriety Tests. The thesis of the paper was that the tests aren’t scientific enough to form the basis of a DUI conviction. Luckily, the driver usually is usually caught with an open bottle in the car, falling over, or admits to being drunk. And the cops are usually organized enough to perform a somewhat more reliable chemical test (urine, blood, breath).
Of course, the evening after I finished my paper I got a bunch of cases on field sobriety tests. I wanted to scream. Actually, I might have. But it was 11:30pm and I was the only one in the building, so that’s okay.
I really need to do these summaries on a weekly basis because I end up giving short-shrift to everything when I wait two weeks.
What happened these past two weeks? Well, there was school, dates, drag show fabulousness, illness/rice socks, music production, the Minneapolis gay pride parade, diva-dom, and mass awkwardness.
The most exciting thing that happened during the last two weeks is that I finished my first song. Here is the concise version:
Matt and I are at the Saloon. I see a Hispanic guy wearing a thin white button down with a gaudy silver pattern on the back. He also has a “female” friend who made me instantly homesick for Miami – flat ironed hair, tight tank top, fake breasts, scandalously short skirt, and dangerous stilettos.
I couldn’t resist.
Me: “Oh gurl, you’re beautiful!”
Yamile: “Why thank you!”
Me: “I’m from Miami. You’re taking me back right now.”
Yamile: “Oh my god! We are from Miami!”
I started walking the krakens around Lake of the Isles after our car disaster.
It’s a gorgeous walk:
It’s late. Matt, Brett, Hair, Swan, and I are outside of Jetset bar. Brent and Hair are smoking. Hair looks bored. Matt wants to leave.
I leave the group to go to the restroom. When I come back outside I see Alig out of the corner of my eye.
Alig is your run-of-the-mill1 skeezy club rat, sort of like the club kids in Party Monster, except this is Minneapolis so half the time Alig is in track shoes and ill fitting shorts.
Reputation-wise, Alig is the equivalent of WMD or Pig Pen from the Peanuts: the tragic hot mess of the city who will soil anyone he talks to like broken septic tank. Behold:
Oh everything is absolutely fabulous and I will write shortly.
I have the same problem that Truman Capote and Oscar Wilde had: it is hard to both live life (while being present) and write about the life you’re living.
But I am here to make a quick addition to my list of the types guys that I date. To review, so far we have:
