The Memphis airport smells like barbeque. It is the best smelling airport in the world. All airports should smell like the cuisine of the area. Minneapolis would smell like.....Jucy Lucys........knephla soup.....that rotten lye fish dish all the Scandavians talk about at holiday time....maybe this isn't such a good idea.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Post title.
Blog post! Blog post. Blog post.
Read between the lines.
Blog post. Blog post. Blog post.
There is nothing between the lines.
Blog post. Blog post. Blog post.
Lazy lazy type
Blog post. Blog post. Blog post.
Read between the lines.
Blog post. Blog post. Blog post.
There is nothing between the lines.
Blog post. Blog post. Blog post.
Lazy lazy type
Blog post. Blog post. Blog post.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
FRINGE 2013
I now know what I will be working on until August.
Last night the ping pong ball with my number on it was pulled from it's cage at the right time to give me a spot in the festival. I had never been so surprise. Sure, I've been in the fringe before, but I have never been in the room when the balls are drawn. For being a totaly random lottery, there is a lot of suspense and hoping and willing the balls to say your and your pals numbers. I was actually looking at my phone when I heard 2 9 6 it took a split second and I reacted "I think that's me!" And it was!
I am so excited. I've really wanted to do this project since it laid an egg in my brain a while ago and I knew the MN fringe was the perfect place for it.
My MN Fringe 2013 show RT + MPLS: The Legend of RT Rybak. It's about our Mayor, it's going to be amazing and so much fun!
I know this because I have already had a blast not working on it but just pretending it exists.
Last night the ping pong ball with my number on it was pulled from it's cage at the right time to give me a spot in the festival. I had never been so surprise. Sure, I've been in the fringe before, but I have never been in the room when the balls are drawn. For being a totaly random lottery, there is a lot of suspense and hoping and willing the balls to say your and your pals numbers. I was actually looking at my phone when I heard 2 9 6 it took a split second and I reacted "I think that's me!" And it was!
I am so excited. I've really wanted to do this project since it laid an egg in my brain a while ago and I knew the MN fringe was the perfect place for it.
My MN Fringe 2013 show RT + MPLS: The Legend of RT Rybak. It's about our Mayor, it's going to be amazing and so much fun!
I know this because I have already had a blast not working on it but just pretending it exists.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Adventures in Criminalogy: Part 1
It would be pretty dramatic if I could start this blog post with "The last 24 hours have been the something, something of my life."
That would be super impressive, right?
But I can't start it with that.
Because it is more like the last 30 hours have been the something, something of my life.
Why? You ask.
Well yesterday, I had a simple plan to not watch the Super Bowl and instead have a photo shoot for Women's History Month: The Historical Comedybration (with fabulous prizes) and the go see Theatre Pro Rata's current scary, video gamey play, Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom.
However, plans changed. As they do.
Especially when the pal that was the model for the photo shoot and your date to the play gets mugged at gunpoint on the way to my apartment!
Yeah, take a moment. Read that again. One more time. Alright, now you can keep reading.
So that happened. She arrived at my place and called the police. From the 911 operator, we quickly learned there was a string of similar muggings last night as well. The police were on these dickheads tail.
However, this blog post is not going to be about that. I am going to make it about my cat. (I'll write about my adventures as a amater CSI agent tomorrow [maybe]).
But first, a cop had to come over to my apartment to interview my friend. I met the officer at the door and led him to my apartment where my friend awaited.
For a moment full of tension and urgency, the first thing the police officer said as he was frozen in the doorway of my apartment was "Whoa, that is a big cat."
Which is right. I know my cat is large. But this is a Minneapolis Police Officer, he must have seen scary things than a 16 lb tabby cat.
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Unless that tabby cat looks like a kick ass kingpin like mine does. Look at that photo, am I right or am I right?
But the thing is, the officer's first response was to comment on my cat, not address the mugging victim that was standing in my apartment. Granted, my apartment is currently strewen about with seven hula hoops, a rubber chicken and a scary clown painting, so sure comment on my giant feline maybe was the only thing he could do when faced with some sort of Uptown circus apartment that Minneapolis's latest mugging victim had found herself in.
But once again, my charming feline roommate has found a way to make someone else's mugging be about him. As the interview between police o and victim, my large cat wound his way between there feet mewing with approval or diapproval at the retelling of a crime by punk as kids.
What really got us was, when the officer confided that these little jerks were robbing people all over the city and every minute counted when they were just one step behind catching this little pricks. That even the fact that my pal had left THE LOCATION WHERE SHE WAS THREATENED WITH A GUN, and came three block over to my place added minutes to the search. Then why did the officer take the extra seconds to comment on my cat's size? That is wasting precious crime-fighting time. Batman never takes a moment to share his opinions on stranger's pets. You know why? BECAUSE CRIME DOESN'T LAY (down to sleep that is.)
So there we have it. I have a large enough cat that will cost police officers pause and therefore cost them time in solving crimes. It's CSI fat cat.
That would be super impressive, right?
But I can't start it with that.
Because it is more like the last 30 hours have been the something, something of my life.
Why? You ask.
Well yesterday, I had a simple plan to not watch the Super Bowl and instead have a photo shoot for Women's History Month: The Historical Comedybration (with fabulous prizes) and the go see Theatre Pro Rata's current scary, video gamey play, Neighborhood 3: Requisition of Doom.
However, plans changed. As they do.
Especially when the pal that was the model for the photo shoot and your date to the play gets mugged at gunpoint on the way to my apartment!
Yeah, take a moment. Read that again. One more time. Alright, now you can keep reading.
So that happened. She arrived at my place and called the police. From the 911 operator, we quickly learned there was a string of similar muggings last night as well. The police were on these dickheads tail.
However, this blog post is not going to be about that. I am going to make it about my cat. (I'll write about my adventures as a amater CSI agent tomorrow [maybe]).
But first, a cop had to come over to my apartment to interview my friend. I met the officer at the door and led him to my apartment where my friend awaited.
For a moment full of tension and urgency, the first thing the police officer said as he was frozen in the doorway of my apartment was "Whoa, that is a big cat."
Which is right. I know my cat is large. But this is a Minneapolis Police Officer, he must have seen scary things than a 16 lb tabby cat.
.jpg)
But the thing is, the officer's first response was to comment on my cat, not address the mugging victim that was standing in my apartment. Granted, my apartment is currently strewen about with seven hula hoops, a rubber chicken and a scary clown painting, so sure comment on my giant feline maybe was the only thing he could do when faced with some sort of Uptown circus apartment that Minneapolis's latest mugging victim had found herself in.
But once again, my charming feline roommate has found a way to make someone else's mugging be about him. As the interview between police o and victim, my large cat wound his way between there feet mewing with approval or diapproval at the retelling of a crime by punk as kids.
What really got us was, when the officer confided that these little jerks were robbing people all over the city and every minute counted when they were just one step behind catching this little pricks. That even the fact that my pal had left THE LOCATION WHERE SHE WAS THREATENED WITH A GUN, and came three block over to my place added minutes to the search. Then why did the officer take the extra seconds to comment on my cat's size? That is wasting precious crime-fighting time. Batman never takes a moment to share his opinions on stranger's pets. You know why? BECAUSE CRIME DOESN'T LAY (down to sleep that is.)
So there we have it. I have a large enough cat that will cost police officers pause and therefore cost them time in solving crimes. It's CSI fat cat.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Yes!
Women's History Month: The Historical Comedybration (with fabulous prizes) now has website!
www.comedybration.com
Check it!
www.comedybration.com
Check it!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Don't Tell My Mom: Part 2
I called AAA today. They are the best investment of my life. However, they also thought my car just needed a jump so they came out with a 'light duty' truck, not a tow truck. So now I am waiting for the tow to come to pull my car to the doctor. Because, I sometimes am thoughtful, I called the car doctor in advance to let them know my car will be coming to them within the hour (or at least that is what AAA says will happen.)
The waiting is continuing......
The waiting is continuing......
Friday, February 1, 2013
Don't tell my mom: Part 1
I grew up in the frozen plains of North Dakota.
I know how to do winter.
It's in my DNA.
It has been hammered in to my bones.
My mother is a constant stream of helpful winter tips.
But I failed her.
I am so embarrassed. Last night, my gas light in my car came on. I forgot to fill my car. This morning, no car movement. Of course, winterwoodswoman that I am, I thought it needed a jump. Forutnatlye, as things are with jumpstarts, my neighbor offered a hand. I had the cables she had the car. But electricity was not what my car needed, as evidenced by the radio blasting 'Call Me Maybe" during the non-start. Then it hit my head like an some sort of simile that is both funny and thematicly appropriate: my fuel lines were frozen.
Now all you non-winterers will think this "Gas doesn't freeze, genius. At least not at -14 below." I tell you what, gas doesn't freeze but fuel lines do, that's why you are supposed to put Heet or other fuel anti-freezing fuel supplements in your car. I know this because every Christmas my mom puts two bottles in my stocking.
But I hadn't put the Heet in my car. And I was on E. My car is cold and it does not want to wake up. So after hitching a ride to far away work and back, I still don't have a running car. Because it is still cold! I wanted to check on my car during the warmest part of the day, you know, with the sun shining on it and all, but since the warmest part of the day today was 5 degrees, it probably wasn't going to work. I am holding out hope for tomorrow when the high is supposed to be 19.
I have failed my winter genome. Don't tell my mom.
I know how to do winter.
It's in my DNA.
It has been hammered in to my bones.
My mother is a constant stream of helpful winter tips.
But I failed her.
I am so embarrassed. Last night, my gas light in my car came on. I forgot to fill my car. This morning, no car movement. Of course, winterwoodswoman that I am, I thought it needed a jump. Forutnatlye, as things are with jumpstarts, my neighbor offered a hand. I had the cables she had the car. But electricity was not what my car needed, as evidenced by the radio blasting 'Call Me Maybe" during the non-start. Then it hit my head like an some sort of simile that is both funny and thematicly appropriate: my fuel lines were frozen.
Now all you non-winterers will think this "Gas doesn't freeze, genius. At least not at -14 below." I tell you what, gas doesn't freeze but fuel lines do, that's why you are supposed to put Heet or other fuel anti-freezing fuel supplements in your car. I know this because every Christmas my mom puts two bottles in my stocking.
But I hadn't put the Heet in my car. And I was on E. My car is cold and it does not want to wake up. So after hitching a ride to far away work and back, I still don't have a running car. Because it is still cold! I wanted to check on my car during the warmest part of the day, you know, with the sun shining on it and all, but since the warmest part of the day today was 5 degrees, it probably wasn't going to work. I am holding out hope for tomorrow when the high is supposed to be 19.
I have failed my winter genome. Don't tell my mom.
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