If I Owned a Bar

Inspired by Conner and Emily.

If I had a bar, there were be places everywhere to sit. And there would be no stools without backs--I want everyone to be comfortable. I would have couches and armchairs clustered together around fireplaces, and booths would outnumber tables. There would be a nice outdoor area with a firepit that would be lit in both summer and winter. Servers would be fully clothed, because it bothers me to see half-naked girls walking around and being jostled in a crowded place, especially in January, when you know they'd rather just wear pants.

We would have readily available beers from Minnesota and Wisconsin, as well as some classic cocktails (so as to include the Bloody Mary). No beer would cost more than $5, and happy hour specials would have beers 2 for $5, and no appetizer over $5, because that's what I feel like spending. I would make sure that there was good, affordable wine available, and if you wanted to order a box of wine for your table, you could do that, too. I would not serve shots, because nothing good ever comes from that.

We would also have good coffee available, and every cup of coffee would be served with either one's own French press or carafe for refills. And also a little pitcher of cream, because that is so civilized. The bar food would be excellent but a little eclectic, and would not include 1) artificial cheese (ew, queso dip) or 2) things that are so thematically different as to seem dubious (sushi tossed in with nachos and potato skins). We would serve sturdy dinner, like shepherd's pie, meatball subs, and meatloaf, but also really excellent salads, because sometimes I need to eat leaves, and I think others feel the same way. Every week we would host a Crescent Roll Party night, when we'd plug in toaster ovens at some tables, and patrons who selected that menu would be presented with dough and a variety of fillings. There would be a comprehensive milkshake menu. On Sundays we would serve brunch, and you could bring in bottles of champagne and purchase a pitcher of orange juice to mix with it.

Classic board games like chess and checkers would abound, as would sets of Connect Four. I would offer Slankets for patron use, as well as for purchase if you decided you couldn't live without one anymore. There would also be a library area with books and chairs and ottomans. Customers could program the bar's music via an actual jukebox that didn't require quarters, and it would be stocked with classic rock, oldies, bluegrass, Motown, some alt-country and the complete works of Neil Diamond. Once a month I would host a cooking event, like a chili cook-off or a build-your-own pizza party. In the winter, we'd have a gingerbread house decorating night and snowman-building contest.

We would occasionally clear away some sofas to make room for live polka music, and at the end of the night you could stumble outside and catch a ride home, because my bar would be located near a useful bus line so no one had to worry about getting home at the end of the night, or pay ridiculous amounts for parking. But if you did want to drive, we would have a parking lot.

Update: I forgot to include the TVs showing classic sitcoms like The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and The Bob Newhart Show, among others.

Horizontal Truffle Shuffle

While I am a little disturbed by Taco Bell (I crave it once every three years, and I order a ton, and while I'm eating it I am conscious of the fact that I feel terrible), my roommate loves it. Loves it. And her favorite item of all time is the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. In college, she used to tell us it should be called the cheesy orgasm crunch. Which just calls to mind some really, really unpleasant imagery.


Anyway, last week she and I were watching TV and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch commercial came on. Her sheer joy inspired what I can only describe as a horizontal truffle shuffle. So, this, but on the couch:

Faster Than A Bear?

In July, I ran an actual 5k, and last month I ran my own when my car got hit and I couldn't drive back to Iowa for another one.

Recently, Emily (in a fit of lunacy and participatory spirit) decided to run a half marathon next year. Now, our friend Helga has apparently been inspired and today tried to loop me in to running one. Basically, I think running 13 miles all at once is crazy (but I love you, Emily! Find your inner athleticism!). I might do a week-long cumulative half marathon, but getting it all out of the way at once is just anticlimactic. Also, difficult. When turning her down via gchat didn't work, Helga took to Twitter, which I joined not too long ago and has since occupied 1/4 of all my workdays. She even tried to loop in Emily.

Before the following conversation thread, I merely wanted to assert that a half marathon is not for me. Now I feel the need to defend not only my own speed in relation to that of a bear, but also that becoming a dinosaur is better than cloning one.

It's been a long day.

So it begins...
helgaradio: Trying to convince @bacon_wednesday to do the 2010 Stillwater Half-Marathon with me. Bribes of #bacon aren't working. #running

bacon_wednesday: Please tell @helgaradio that there isn't enough #bacon on earth to make me do that much #running.

Enter the bears...
bacon_wednesday: Although contrary to what @emilysaysso says, I could probably outrun a bear and would not "be eaten in a quarter mile." #running

emilysaysso @bacon_wednesday Bears can run 30mph. GOOD LUCK.

One day I'll be a raptor and you'll see!
bacon_wednesday @helgaradio According to @emilysaysso I would run 13 miles if I were a dinosaur...work on that and I'll get back to you.

emilysaysso@Bacon_Wednesday @helgaradio Or clone one! http://bit.ly/3SPZdx

bacon_wednesday @emilysaysso @helgaradio Emily, that would do nothing to turn me into a dinosaur. Focus!

And so she changes tactics...
helgaradio: Hey @emilysaysso you should do the Stillwater Half-Marathon w/ @Bacon_Wednesday and I. It's May 10, 2010. #running #whatamithinking

#Fail
emilysaysso @helgaradio I'm running one on May 2. I'm not THAT crazy.

What's Afoot At The Circle K

This weekend, Boyfriend and I headed north and enjoyed a weekend away from the Cities. Highlights of the trip included:

• Eating pizza-flavored Combos. I got two bags, in case Boyfriend and I each needed our own. But when the man at the gas station said, "So...you like Combos?" I told him it was one bag for the way there, and one for the way back. Which at the time was a lie (much like the burrito technique--finishing school lessons applied in real-life scenarios!) but ended up being true. Moral of the story, Combos are the perfect road trip food.
• Today I had coffee with Bailey's, Combos, a granola bar, pie and a glass of milk, and some pasta to eat. Balanced!
• Starting each day with coffee and Bailey's while hanging out on a balcony with a view of the lake.
• Finally trying the pie at Betty's Pies. Oh, goodness. I had a slice of pecan pie, and can I just say: oh goodness. There was so much sugar and butter in that pie that a lacquer actually formed across the top. And then molded around my teeth like an Invisalign made of brickle. I walked out feeling incredibly satisfied but also like I needed a vegetable. Any vegetable.
  
• A bluegrass festival! We hung around in a lodge's main room and drank beer while bluegrass musicians had a jam session by the fireplace all night. There was an adorable old lady with an amazing, June Carter-ish voice and a never-ending glass of red wine, a scrawny teenage boy learning to play the tub bass for the first time, a violin player who "faked" the Cajun fiddle, and lots of old men with guitars/banjos. So fun. And I felt so credible when I knew a song.
• Going to a park where Boyfriend had dived off cliffs over the summer. For every cliff he took me to and said, "I jumped off this one," I gave him a shoulder smack. To learn him good. The cliffs were pretty amazing, but I prefer to admire them up close rather than hurl myself off them. Personally.
  
• The weather was rainy and drizzly and pretty mild, which was perfect for duck boots and hot cocoa. Win!
• Since I was wearing duck boots, I may have splashed around in puddles like a duck. And imitated a raptor...on the shore. But only a tiny bit. Stomp stomp stomp.
  
• Finally saw the Split Rock lighthouse.
• Two words: Walleye Reuben.
  
• Ended Saturday by eating fudge, drinking wine from plastic cups and watching Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. It was a most triumphant time. Beeth-oven. Heh. It never gets old.

And now I'm home, wearing fleece pants and watching Tough Love with Roommate. And they say vacation never ends...

Great Scott! Gnocchi!

So, I had a busy week at work, and it made me a little crazy. But now it is over! I was into overtime by the time I left Thursday night, so it is a three-day weekend for me. La la la.

I had to run some errands after work, and I didn't eat dinner until 7:30 or so. I was a hungry bear. And since I'm going out of town for the weekend, I hadn't grocery shopped. I hate throwing away food just because I let it go bad. So it was a "what the crap is in my fridge?" night. I opened my freezer, thinking maybe I had, like, some frozen brussels sprouts in there to work with. But--even better--I had a bag of gnocchi with gorgonzola from my old friend, Trader Joe. I bought it last week but forgot all about it. So it was kind of like surprise food that I didn't buy! Don't you just love it when you find something you'd forgotten about and it's like a present that past you left for present you? Like $5 in some pants pocket. Or gnocchi in the freezer, as it were.

I bet Doc Brown knows what I mean. I'd make a really good reference to the sports almanac and its impact on Biff's/Marty's life (depending on WHO GETS IT) but...I'm tired. So here you go:

You'll have to use your imagination to illustrate when I bought the gnocchi vs. when I enjoyed it. I just got Photoshop, and I don't know how to, you know, manipulate images with it yet. Or whatever the appropriate software may be. Soon.

Holiday Plans

Today I bought my plane ticket home for Christmas. As you may remember, my mom got secretly married and then moved to Michigan, so I have 50 percent fewer parents living in Wisconsin. Thus, my holiday obligations have shrunk significantly. How will I fill this extra time (besides lots of hanging out with my dad)? My best friend (juvenile, but when the relationship is formed in seventh grade the terminology doesn't really mature) and I have come up with a solid itinerary, and I feel strongly that this Christmas vacation may be the best in years.

1. Shop the after-Christmas sales at Old Navy and make some mildly regrettable purchases
2. Drive to an outlet mall with a Coach store to score some steeply discounted Put-Together Purses--if we man up and buy the investment piece. This item may be replaced with "buy large metallic shoulder bag at H&M" at the last minute. Let's be real.
   
3. Eat at Cheesecake Factory
4. Eat lox
5. Go to local bar on the nights before Christmas, where we are sure to run in to former classmates to whom we can illustrate how good we look now. High school never happened.
6. Go to Costco for cheap liquor for...
7. ...best friend's Y2K-themed New Year's Eve party
8. Make period-specific decorations for said party
9. Never put on real pants except to leave the house. Sweatpants 4ever!

Looking at this itinerary now, I'm noticing that except for the legal procurement of liquor, the plans she and I make haven't really matured beyond seventh grade, either.

Forcing Myself To Count My Blessings

Today I spent 11 hours at work, about six of which were spent on mothertrucking PowerPoint. Mothertrucker. I finally got out of there after 8 p.m. When I filled up my gas tank, it looked like my tank was leaking. Super. Also I am hungry and all I've eaten today is random food that has crossed my path at the office. Before I take my nighttime shower (I have curly hair. My head will look effing terrible tomorrow. Great.) so I can get to work by 7 a.m. (FML), I think it would be good for me (and my blood pressure) for me to meditate on a few good things that happened today.

1. The free office food was caramel rolls and some delicious sandwiches. And pickles.
2. The sandwiches were actually good, not just available.
3. The free office food will save me money that I can spend on other, better food.
4. For now I don't see any more gas leaking out from beneath my car.
5. Costco coupons came in the mail!
6. When I got home, my cat was in an affectionate mood. I don't care if it makes me a cat lady, my cat is awesome and soft. And awesome.
   
7. I will hit 40 hours by Thursday evening. Thank you, flex time.

All I want in the world right now is to leave work tomorrow around 5 p.m. and pick up some food and wine on the way home and fall asleep to the dulcet tones of Helo on my TV. Fingers crossed.

Wanted: Master Class on How to Walk in Heels

While there are many feminine arts on which I will lecture at my finishing school, I have to confess that there are some areas of my wiles that are not so...wiley. Mainly, how the hell does one walk in high heels in a non-gallumphy fashion?

I don't have any pairs of extreme heels--probably the highest in my closet are 3.5 inches, and those are worn least frequently. For works I stick with pumps with about a 2.5- or 3-inch heel, and I love shoes with a thicker stacked heel, for balance. But I can't seem to get the hang on walking in heels in a way that suggests they're an extension of my leg, and not pesky things that get in the way of my foot and the ground (which they truly are, but they're attractive and pretty much a fact of lady life). Some ladies are naturals when it comes to occupying lady footwear, and others have to work at it.

Heels trouble me thusly:

1. I can't do the "walk on the balls of your feet, creating the illusion of stepping with your whole foot" thing.
2. They hurt like a mofo and have uglified my toes for life, and yet flats now feel unnatural.
3. When I walk "heel toe, heel toe" I look clunky and there is unintentional (and awkward) spring in my step.

So, I'm making additions to the curriculum at my finishing school. Please offer suggestions for looking like a girl in my girl shoes. Thanks!

A Glimpse Into My Crazy

Like most people, I get stressed out by rush hour traffic. I used to think it was because of the fear of being late, but my current job has flex time, so it's not that. And yes, it's vaguely claustrophobic, but so are many other things, like elevators. And family holidays. No, what stresses me out about traffic is that it so closely resembles a heart attack.

Whenever I see crowded lanes it immediately makes me nervous. Bumper-to-bumper at 5 mph reminds me of footage from some science class film about overwhelmed circulatory systems just before a heart attack. And traffic moving around a crash on one side reminds me of nothing so much as a Plavix commercial.

My drive home tonight was very slow because of a crash TWO FREEWAYS AWAY. There was much anxiousness.

If Only One of Us Was a Dude

Today was a rough one for me, and as I pulled off the freeway tonight and headed toward my house I thought, "I don't want to eat food I already own. I want other food. And since I have a cold, I'd like it to be spicy." After all, if one is going to eat one's feelings, it should really be in a dignified manner, like at a place where you don't seat yourself. Much unlike my couch.

Thus, Roommate and I wound up at True Thai on Franklin. This was my first time going there, and holy moly, guys. If you haven't gone, you must. First of all, word on the street is that it's owned by an ex-convict and his adorable wife (who has an equally adorable blog). Wacky! Also, the deliciousness. I had the #55 (I forget what it was called), which was wide, flat noodles, Chinese broccoli and tofu sauteed with lots of chili pepper. It was ridiculously good, super spicy, and just pulled me right out of the funk I was in (making the cost of dinner totally justifiable as a mental health expense. I should have used my HSA debit card.) The conversation sparkled and we shared dessert. After dinner, Roommate invited me back to her place to change into something more comfortable (because pants are awful), share the rest of a bottle of wine and watch Pushing Daisies.

Best sham-date ever, y'all.

I Could Watch "King of the Hill" Forever

I rediscovered "King of the Hill" last week when I was working on my Halloween costume. Sewing a Max suit is more time consuming than one might expect. I needed something to keep me going while I worked, and it hit the spot.

Example A:


Example B:


Example C:


While Halloween is over, perhaps some of you are working on...pilgrim costumes for Thanksgiving? My Aunt Barbara used to wear one every year, and it was pretty elaborate, so you'll no doubt need a lot of entertainment to fuel such a project.

Five Is The Minimum, Really

Tonight I made dinner (my own recipe: equal parts Costco stir fry and Trader Joe's stir fry) and Boyfriend came over bearing leftover cookies from his Halloween party as his contribution to the meal.

At the end of the night, he asked if I wanted some of the cookies. "Duh!" I replied, taking three.

Boyfriend looked concerned. "Is that enough?"

So maybe I took two more. Thank goodness I've got someone looking out for my cookie levels. They were clearly dangerously low.

Your Mom

I judge high school debate every fall at local schools, which is a pretty sweet gig. It started in college when my editing professor's former student e-mailed him needing judges. Apparently, if you were in college and literate, it didn't matter if the 15-year-olds knew what was going on more than you did. And...it kind of still doesn't, and remains an awesome way for college students to earn extra money ($65+ per meet...which I still will gladly take. Plus they feed you breakfast and lunch). Also, it totally renews your faith in America's youth.

God, I'm old.

Anyway, I judge the Lincoln-Douglas Novice JV rounds, so this comic really hit the spot.


xkcd.com

For the record, none of the debate kids has ever resorted to "your mom" as a rebuttal.

Yet.

I Need Your Carpinion.

Today I "bought" my car for $1. Plus $81 in registration and other fees. I also purchased a new insurance policy for the next six months (at which time I plan to buy a new car). While I was sitting with the agent (who, by the way, had never heard of the Ctrl + F shortcut or the find function, period, until I suggested it when he was looking for a certain form name) I had him pull up quotes for a couple cars I'm considering purchasing when the time comes.

The numbers he found on my ideal (recent) used car, Le Toyota Corolla, would put me at about $650 for six months of comprehensive coverage--so roughly $108/month. If I took out a loan for $12,000 and paid just minimum payments with low interest for 60 months, that's about $215 per month, give or take.

So--mathing it out! $323/month. Is that reasonable? What is your carpinion of this number? Know of any good dealerships? Get totally hosed? I realize I'm one of the few remaining people in the mid-20s who have avoided purchasing and insuring a car so far, so I would love to hear your thoughts.

I Don't Want To Get Out Of Bed Today

My bed is warm and comfy. It's still dark outside. My cat is in a cuddlesome mood. I can work remotely if needed. Plus I need to shell out about $500 today to transfer my car title, get license plates and buy an insurance policy.

GETTING OUT OF BED TODAY WILL LEAD TO NOTHING GOOD.

Although I am set to carve pumpkins tonight. I will get out of bed for that, I guess.

Want.

I'm not good at being a blogger who can poke around Etsy and magically find awesome things to share with others. The Internet is vast and I'm just not a curator like that--or if I am, it's rare, and mainly concerns things like Jake Ryan.

But Rachel, on the other hand, finds something new and pretty to look at every day. Plus she talks about her dog and cat, which I enjoy. And she's started making necklaces that I can't help but want. In the wake of the perfect storm of Halloween costume costs (my Max suit is pretty bangin'!) and getting my car finally titled to me and insuring it, my necklace budget has taken a hit. But if it hadn't, I would be snapping up one or two of these. You should check out her shop, Elephantine, and maybe buy one. And give it to me. To celebrate the one-month anniversary of my birthday. It's a pretty significant occasion, so...

Seriously, Jake Ryan, Be More Perfect

Dear Jake Ryan,
I'm so glad that Sixteen Candles came on tonight just as I feared there would be nothing on television. You are too thoughtful. Also, dreamy. So dreamy. Seriously, be more dreamy. Oh, wait, not possible.

Love,
Stephanie

"Yeah, you!"

Every time I watch Sixteen Candles, I am reminded of the undying love I hold in my heart for the perfection that is Jake Ryan. I'm with Samantha Baker on this--really, aren't we all saving ourselves for Jake Ryan? Well, you know, figuratively? I think I'm still waiting for the limo to pull away and reveal him waiting for me in front of his bitchin' sports car. You know, literally?

To make your hearts go pitter-pat, I present to you the ending song from the movie, which will be played at my wedding when Jake and I have our first dance.

Wisconsin Adventure

The time has come for me to officially become a Minnesotan. True, I have lived here mostly full-time for over seven years. And true, I have acquired many pieces of furniture, friends and a cat during that time. However, I have always considered myself a Wisconsonite, if you were to ask.

But with my mom's secret marriage and move to Michigan, I must finally leave the nest for good and have my car titled to me. To purchase your own car insurance in Minnesota, you have to own the car, so it has to happen. And as I've also been dodging the residency rules for years (as has a certain blogging friend), Emily and I will take a little trip to the DMV on Monday to get our Minnesota licenses. Oh, God, I hope I pass. It took me three tries to get my license in high school.

This weekend I went to Wisconsin, very likely my last such trip in a Wisconsin car and with a Wisconsin license, to see a play and have lunch with two aunts, two cousins, and two other cousins' wives. It was really fun to have a girls' gathering with them and catch up, as well as discover that a love of Bloody Marys runs in my family. But getting there was a challenge.

It takes about four-and-a-half hours to get to my aunt's house, and I planned to leave after work on Friday, arrive around 10 p.m. and spend the night there. I also considered leaving Minneapolis around 6 a.m. Saturday and doing the drive that morning, but in the end went with the Friday night plan. Well, here's where that plan went off the rails:

1. Rush hour made the trip from SLP to Woodbury take an hour and fifteen minutes.
2. Snow made average freeway speeds around 50-55 mph, which was fine, since I couldn't see a damn thing anyway.
3. Seriously, I couldn't see a damn thing. Some other drivers were doing fine, but the snow was falling so fast/hard that determining where the road ended and a cornfield began was nearly impossible.
4. I pulled off the freeway in Osseo, WI, and got a motel room since I couldn't see the road and the heart attack feelings in my chest and chance of running off the road didn't make the prospect of getting to my destination--a good 200 miles away at that point--at 50 mph very enticing.
   

I thought maybe I was just a wimp, but a) Neons are known for many things, but their superior snow-handling abilities are not on that list and b) local news confirmed it was in fact a blizzard I'd been caught in. An effing blizzard! In October!

Well, at least I'm not just a wimp. And the Super 8 in Osseo is really quite...satisfactory. And I always ask if they have a AAA discount. If my car has to say goodbye to its Wisco heritage, at least it's going out with a bang.

Tape 'Em To The Fridge

At Emily's request, here are drawings from Saturday night. It was Art's birthday party, and luckily for all of you, 1) I carry a notebook in my purse and 2) drunk people think of the coolest stuff to draw.

Fig. 1 - Barack Obama, riding a water buffalo.

Naturally.

When someone tells me to draw "Obama riding a water buffalo," I don't half-ass it. Of all the things to be dazzled by, you're probably most dazzled by my incredible commitment to realism:


While Obama is super important, this night wasn't about politics. It was about Art!

Fig. 2 - Art, as the birthday boy.

Note the jaunty birthday cap! His was the best of all the chapeaux at the VFW that night.

All photo credits go to Boyfriend, who made sure to document these works for posterity.

He Skipped A Crucial Step.

While I was sitting with Boyfriend at lunch today at the Chisago House restaurant in Taylors Falls (waiting 45 minutes for our food...so hungry...), conversation turned to Where The Wild Things Are, which we saw last night. I thought that the movie did a really good job of showing how kids react to situations and process/articulate their feelings, and just generally see the world. But I did think that Max lacked some skills in the leadership department. He had excellent intentions but ran into problems with execution and follow-through.

Boyfriend, an observant fellow, noted that he went straight from boy to wolf, without ever becoming a man. This is no doubt the source of Max's problems.



In other news, I am going as Max for Halloween and will procure costume materials tomorrow. Stay tuned.