P.O.

Post Office, don't pretend you are on Lake Street when you are clearly on 31st. Of all government offices to fake their address, you should be ashamed. Set an example Post Office, think of the children.

FACE FOR RADIO

The first step to celebrity-dom. Today MPR, next the world.

At least they didn't air the story about how I met this play. But they did keep asking me to retell and retell the story.

The Culture of Eating Things: Burger Jones

Burger Jones, are you going to make it? Your Nutella milkshakes was great! And the S'more milkshake was delightful too, with whole marshmallows! But is that enough? The Hangover Burger was good, I love fried eggs in anything. And egg yolk spilling over a burger is an awesome condiment. The hot sauce seemed to be there for looks. Instead of putting in over the egg, it would be more effective taste-wise directly over the burger. The bun soaks up the hot sauce making the bottom of the top bun looking like a used feminine product. I did not eat this part of the bun. I can't comment on the bacon I didn't eat it, I only wanted it because it is best friend with the fried egg.  Burgers are good. Is that enough? The Tri-tasting fry tower. Great, really great. I kept eating the parmesan waffle fries well past my stomach fill level. And I always like choosing fancy dipping sauces. The sweet potato fries were good too. But the regular old potato fries were the best! Soft and crunchy, neither salty or bland. I wish I had dived into those first before my belt expanded to it's next belt hole. But the bottomless bowl of homemade pickles. That is where it is at. If this restaurant was called Pickle Jones, it would last for ever. Spicy and sweet with a bite and a melty-ness. Those were the best pickles I have ever eaten. And show me a pickle I haven't gotten my mouth around.  But it is called Burger Jones. And what I question is the atmosphere. A little school cafeteria-like. A brand new cafeteria in a middle school but still cafeteria like. There is few booths and they are low so there isn't a lot of privacy. And when I am shoving a burger into my face I don't want to be distracted by the attractive man sitting behind my mom eating cheese curds alone while reading a book. I could not focus. And how hot is me and my yolk explosion burger and handfuls of parmesan waffle fries? A woman wants to eat giant messy burgers with a little privacy, I cannot worry about being kittenish when I am lioness with a kill.  And Burger Jones I have seen your illustration. I have seen you in your geek glasses. Do your geek glasses have staying power? And it bothers me that you hold that giant double patty burger like a serving plate, would that bottom bun really be stable enough to hold that way? Or do you have a plate under there? And what about that nine foot profile photo of you eating a burger that a diner can't help but stare at since the visibility of the cafeteria landscape is a million miles, if I am not staring at another tables handfuls of fries I am staring and you with your geek glasses and electric cheeseburger.  Burger Jones prove my intuition wrong and have many anniversaries in your open unprotected mess hall. Maybe dimming the lights would work. Or a privacy screen could come out with each burger. But Burger Jones, with your trendy geek glasses, I wonder how will you adapt when everyone starts wearing contacts? Or gets Lasik? Or wears aviators? Or rhinestone cat-eye glasses? Or when EVERYONE wears geek glasses and then you are just a normal guy impossibly holding a giant burger, instead of a hip, cool one? Oh, Burger Jones, what will you do? You can't just get people excited over adult milkshakes forever, some of us are lactose-intolerant.

nope

I am not going for a run. It is way more fun to turn the oven on. And that is multi-tasking. I am not going for a run. My ankle is sore. I realized recently that I cock my left ankle inside when I drive. I have always known I do that. But only remember on road trips. The oven will warm me up. It is gray outside. Sometimes I forget sweatshirts. Someone thought I was famous today again. I forgot his name already. But I did get a secret tour of MPR. Not so secret only because most of the people had already left for the day. Sort of secret.

No one is kidding

I should have seen it coming. There were warning signs.  But I couldn't resist. Four firecrackers stamped on that menu meant nothing. It was the only item that had four firecrackers next to it. The closets thing to it was a green curry with one firecracker. This had four. Four firecrackers, that I realize now may have been tiny dynamite sticks. Tiny dynamite sticks, that would have been more appropriate. It really should have been an A-Bomb. There were only four on the plate, accompanied by a lime sorbet chaser and a warning printed on card stock held up by two lines. Paraphrasing: "Warning. Do not complain to your server that these were too hot. You will be publicly mocked and have been warned." This was my second warning, first tiny sticks of dynamite, second a printed card placed on the plate. I dug it. The taste was excellent, sweet, creamy, onion cream cheese, crunchy warm battered outside and chewy, sticky, &%$%^^#ing hot pepper. Habanero Hell Poppers. Ouch! The roof of my mouth felt like it was being peeled back and a fire was then being aresol chemical sprayed on to it. I didin't think it wouls ever stop.  It was the hottest thing I have ever had in my mouth. I was enjoying the taste until my tastbuds shut down for fear of being burned off. The lime sorbet helped. And the constant drinking of water to pushing the pepper along its journey. Habenero Hell Poppers: Chino Latino.  They warn you, and they weren't kidding.

Oh, yeah.

Who needs Muscle Beach when I have Lake Calhoun? I can't believe some of those guys actually can run without falling over, they are so top heavy. And wide. Really wide. No one can run or walk around them. It is like a flesh wall huffing toward or in front of you.  Yes, I have popped my Lake Calhoun workout cherry. I have to admit I was a little intimidated. I am still new and hesitant to the running (I like to say jogging it sounds easier) and they only workout clothes I have are my Bikram yoga clothes. But did a scouting run near the lake yesterday to see where the entrances to the trail was and to see if there was a designated area or a one-way trail. But today I went for it. I did pretty good. I was colorful in my garb and my celebrity gas station sunglasses really helped me look cool. I didn't feel intimidated, my abs are like cathedral windows (without the stained glass). I don't run very fast, but it isn't a race. That I am aware of. Maybe it is. No wonder, runners don't smile, they don't know when the race is over. I didn't see a finish line. I was done before I got to it. Hmmm... what about that. I think I will bring a finish line next time for everyone.

Hostess.

I am hosting an impromptu party. I knew people were coming over at varied times this evening. So I realized why not actually have something more than beer? Well, I don't know about that but there is Root Beer now and three kinds of gourmet tortilla chips (sweet potato, olive and "the works") No salsa. .....yet. And I bought an overpriced but convenient fruit bowl for healthfulness. And I was able to run all my errands, run all my miles, shower, hind unmentionables(actually I haven't done that yet) and write this blog before my guest show up. I am such a hostess! Now I need to hide all the freaking Kotex I keep finding everywhere.