Babblin' Crude

Best bus quote of the day, from a guy talking to someone very loudly on his phone about hooking a friend up with a job on an oil rig:

"Well, hopefully he'd be willing to give up the pot. I mean, I like to smoke a little weed, too, but for eighty grand a year with no education and a bad criminal record? That's a blessing. I gotta go. I got anger management today."

Cluck Yeah!

http://www.brasa.us/

Dining Date:  February 2011, at the Minneapolis location.

On My Plate:  An amazing pulled chicken sandwich that had just a hint of a spicy kick, served with unbelievably good chips. Also split a side of cheesy grits and warm, sweet cornbread. I don't say this very often, but every bite was a delight.

Servers Rate:  Good. It was a Thursday night, but the place was packed, so there was plenty to keep our waiter busy.

Overall Vibe:  Pleasant. It's a cozy fit in the winter, but when the weather warms, the side garage doors of the restaurant open onto a large, festive patio.

Fun Fact:  Brasa was featured on an episode of "Man vs. Food." Also, I understand that the guy who runs it is not only super hot but also has a twin brother.

The Damage:  Minimal, considering how much I enjoyed it. Under $20, including tip.

The Verdict:  A do-not-miss establishment that lives up to the hype. Plus it's mostly organic and local.

Now That's Love

A certain friend of mine tends to have hilarious conversations with her husband about ridiculous hypothetical situations. For example, after making the bed recently, one of them commented that leaving a pillow underneath the covers made it look like someone was still sleeping in it. They then imagined how horrified they would be if someone wasn't just sleeping there, but had actually died. After discussing it further, the scenario eventually evolved into this conversation.

WIFE:  "What would you do if we came home and found a dead hobo in our bed?"
HUSBAND:  [thinks for a minute] "Well, first of all, I'd never let you see it."
WIFE:  "How would keep me out of the bedroom?"
HUSBAND:  "I'd send you to the grocery store. I'd say we needed eggs."
WIFE:  "And what would you do while I was gone?"
HUSBAND:  "I'd call the cops and get everything taken care of. And then when you got back, I'd say, 'Guess what? We're staying at the Hampton Inn tonight!'"

I don't know about you, but I think this one's a keeper.

Not-So-Open Forum

www.forumrestaurantmn.com

So this post is a tad moot, since I just learned that Forum closed on April 17. It's a shame, really, not only because I had a delightful dinner there with a friend just a few weeks ago, but because it was a great addition to downtown Minneapolis. Anyway, on the off-chance that the closure isn't permanent, here's the review.

Dining Date:  March 2011

On My Plate:  A fantastic beef stroganoff, delectable "ghost cosmo," and chocolate cake. My dining companion had the duck, a citrus salad, a dragonberry mojito (lip-smacking), and a smores dessert.

Servers Rate:  Super friendly. Our waiter was great.

Overall Vibe:  Classy yet comfortable. The art deco design alone is a treat -- it lends a sense of history without being overbearing.

Fun Fact:  There's still a sign in the window reading "Forum: Now Open!" right next to the closure notice. Also, its logo looks a bit like a razor blade.

The Damage:  Will run $30-$40 a person easily. Luckily we had a gift certificate to apply toward our bill.

The Verdict:  Sad that I may not be able to visit again.

OMG, Where was the Second Needle?!?!

The last sentence is really the kicker.

April 14 (AP) A woman in Pittsburgh who said she'd been stabbed with a knitting needle is in critical condition following emergency surgery. Police spokeswoman Diane Richard says the 27-year-old woman walked into UPMC Presbyterian hospital about 9:35 p.m. Wednesday and told security guards she had been stabbed before she collapsed. Richard says doctors treated the woman for a knitting needle lodged in her abdomen and later found another knitting needle inside her body, though police aren't releasing details about the second needle.

Get Your Gorkha On

In the interest of keeping some spice in my life, in this blog, and (in this case) my diet, a friend and I have decided to set a standing date each month to try a restaurant that neither of us has ever been to. As I start this Twin Cities Eats series, please keep in mind that I'm by no means a foodie. I will have the occasional culinary adventure and will try just about anything once (see: eating sea urchin and manta ray in Japan ... then see: I hate seafood even more now). However, my tastes are pretty simple, and my pocketbook is pretty light. So, while you might not get reviews of the trendiest spots, you might learn a bit about a restaurant where you won't regret spending some of your time and money. First up:

www.gorkhapalace.com

I go by this place every day on my bus. It's just north of downtown Minneapolis on the corner of 1st Avenue and 4th Street, right behind The Bulldog NE. They share their parking lot with two other establishments, but it's free if you can grab a spot!

Dining Date:  April 2011

On My Plate:  The chicken mo:mo appetizers were delicious little potstickers. I could have eaten a dozen of them. My chicken sekuwa entree arrived still smoking in a cast iron skillet. It was flavorful and an ample portion, but not as good as my dining companion's chicken tikka masala, which rocked my world, especially when soaked up with naan.

Servers Rate:  Personable and attentive but laid-back. They almost gave us too much space. However, they were very helpful with the menu for first-timers and johnny-on-the-spot with drink refills.

Overall Vibe:  Quiet and relaxed. This place is all about fresh, organic, locally grown and raised food. They have a ton of vegetarian and vegan options, including several menu items marked as halal.

Fun Fact:  You get to choose the spice level on every dish you order. They even have a "mild plus" option for extra safety. Also, they serve goat and yak. Yak, people.

The Damage:  Less than $20 (before tip). 

The Verdict:  Will definitely be going back, perhaps to try their lunchtime buffet. And maybe some yak.

I Got the DTs in my 2Ts

One of the greatest news stories ever. From April 11th.

(Reuters) On Friday, Taylor Dill-Reese went to an Applebee's in Madison Heights, Michigan, where -- among other things -- she ordered her 15-month-old son Dominick an apple juice. What the little boy apparently got instead was a margarita.

Why doesn't this kind of stuff ever happen to adults? How super duper would it be to say, "I'll have a Coke," and then, when you take your first drink . . . surprise, there's rum in there!

His mom told WDIV-TV that she only realized something was wrong when Dominick "kind of laid his head on the table and dozed off a little bit and woke up and got real happy."

OK, first, the kid drank it without complaint. Which was smart, if you think about it, because it seems like he enjoyed it. I certainly wouldn't grimace at my free rum and Coke, immediately call over a waiter, and demand plain ol' soda.

Second, the kid napped and rallied, which I love. But not as much as this:

The little boy reportedly began hailing strangers, too.

Ah, a lovable, gregarious drunk in diapers. The best kind. Entertaining and no messy cleanup. I can only imagine what the baby-slur translated as:

"Hey! You! . . Yeah, you! Commeer! Yer not gonna believe this. This joooose . . . apple . . . I always get apple, and it tastes like apple, ya know? But this . . . this shit is CRAZY, man! Am I right? Shhhhhhhhhh! What I gotta do to get a refill? Recognize myself in a mirror? Done! That's me, there I am, and I'm lovin' this sippy cup today, man! LOVIN' it!"

The company said it would change the way it serves juice to youngsters to eliminate the chance of any mixups that could result in any more toddlers receiving mixed drinks.

Oh, but then how would we get news bulletins like this in the future? Don't rain on my parade, Applebee's. Keep up the good work.

The Grass is Always Greener

This is my 100th post, and yes, it's about weed.

Was reminded of this little chestnut tonight. A friend of mine has a pal in her apartment complex who spends a great deal of time with Mary Jane. Theirs is the kind of relationship most strive for: intense yet non-committal, centered around Doritos and feelin' groovy.

Returning home from work one day, my friend noted a very distinct aroma emanating not from her pal's apartment, but from somewhere down the hall. Knowing that this was information her pal would want, she immediately sent him a text announcing that someone else in the building definitely had weed.

Except, instead of sending the message to her ganja-puffing pal, she accidentally sent the text to another friend whose name was just one letter off. It was a friend from high school whom she hadn't spoken to in months.

The reply?

"SWEET! Get me some!"

Some friends are just keepers.

Small Humiliations: Part XI

The recent onset of "spring" has me thinking about sneezes.

I put "spring" in quotes because, though the hometown baseball season started today and I haven't scraped my windshield in a couple weeks, I remain skeptical. We've been burned by you before, Old Man Winter! You lull us into complacency with the sight of grass and the euphoria of shedding heavy down coats. And in the joyous fog of walking to work in actual shoes ... yes, the very same shoes we'll wear all day long ... we start believing we can do crazy things like plan road trips and park on both sides of the street. We dare to dream!

And if you don't hit us with a final, random, soul-crushing snowfall, and instead retire to what I can only assume would be an icy, icy bed ... well, there's still allergy season.

Which brings me back to the sneezes.

I can think of one truly epic sneeze that still makes me laugh every time I recall it. Naturally, it occurred on the bus and was made even funnier because of that particular locale.

One morning, I felt a tickle begin in my nose. Even though I quickly realized it was probably going to be a full-blown (pun intended) event, I tried my best to stifle it. Because let's be honest, nobody is ever thrilled when someone really honks one on public transportation. You can aim that sneeze into a tissue or into your sleeve, but all anyone is thinking about are those little germy particles floating around in a confined space.

So I pinched my mouth shut and closed my eyes and fought it back. It looked like I was having a mini-seizure, but it worked. Or so I thought. In the brief moment that I relaxed with relief, the sneeze came back. With a vengeance. It now caught me completely off-guard, and I had even less control than usual.

I don't think I can do justice in print to the sound that came out of my mouth, but the closest approximation is probably a very loud, very high-pitched "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Despite my good intentions, I was now the girl who suffered a mini-seizure and then screamed at my fellow riders for no apparent reason.

The scream even scared me. And then, because I was so embarrassed, I closed my eyes immediately and pretended that nothing had happened. As if the people around me wouldn't notice that I was red in the face and giggling uncontrollably.

So, to sum it up: seizure, frightening verbal outburst in public, laughing to myself while "sleeping." It's a wonder I'm still single.

He's Just Not My Typo

And now it's time to play one of my favorite games of all time . . . type the beginning of a question into a web browser and see what's tippity-top on the minds of people searching for answers.

Today's initial phrase: Why can't I have

The first result: Why can't I have an organism

This was followed by a link with the title "Why can't some women have an organism? And what is the cause?"

Ah, yes, the elusive organism. Never around when you need one. Unless, of course, you're blessed with multiple organisms, in which case you may need to get a bigger apartment.

I was going to respond to this astute query on Yahoo Answers, but I was laughing too hard.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: spelling matters. Sometimes it matters BIG. Sometimes it's the difference between a moment of exquisite pleasure and mitochondria. I'm just sayin'.

Small Humiliations: Part X

When my sister was in her teens, she and a friend decided to hit the library one afternoon. On their way, they stopped to buy some snacks. This was especially daring, since there was no food or drink allowed in the building, but being the rebels they were, they decided to risk it. 

They settled in at a table and felt like downright villains as they snuck clandestine treats from their backpacks while reading. It was a small town ... you took your thrills where you could find them. I'm still shocked and amazed at a friend of mine who once stuck a piece of used chewing gum between the pages of a book. Shocked because she'd dare to do it, and amazed because nobody hauled her away in handcuffs. She left that library unshackled and continues to walk among us a free woman to this day.

Anyway, my sister's friend had chosen for one of her treats a pack of candy cigarettes, and sometime between The Babysitter's Club and the latest Sweet Valley High volume, she decided to bust those bad boys out. Still trying to be secretive, she slipped her hand into her bag, located the small box, brought a thin stick quickly to her lips and bit into it with a satisfying crunch.

A pause, then a horrified whisper.

"Meghan! . . . . . I just ate chalk!"

What's the lesson here? Maybe that cigarettes are bad in all forms. Or maybe that you shouldn't break the rules. Or maybe that you should just look before you bite, lest you ingest your own school supplies. Take your pick, America.

Crying Fowl

As I walked to the bus this morning, I couldn't help noticing a duck waddling across the icy surface of the nursing home pond. He was walking back and forth quacking angrily, like, "What the ... when we left, this was water, right? Yeah, I took a quick dip right before takeoff. Shit! Well, now what am I supposed to do?"

I don't blame him. I'd be pissed, too, if I flew back from vacation and my home was frozen over. But, since I doubted I could adequately explain the concept of water having three forms and the related effects of temperature, I simply urged him to do as the Romans (and especially Minnesotans) do at this time of year:  "Have patience, my friend. Patience."

In response, I'm pretty sure he did as the ducks do (and many frustrated Minnesotans). He flipped me the bird.

Minor Details

Woman to her friend on the bus:

"We was crazy for each other. And my aunt, she was like, you ain't even known each other that long, but boy, I tell you, I prolly woulda married him. But we fell out. I can't even remember why, exactly, but somethin' happened, and we fell out."

Ten minutes later, during a lull in their conversation about an unrelated topic:

"You know what . . . I think he mighta went to prison or something!"

MPAA Anonymous

Last Saturday, at 10:52 a.m., I received the following text from an unknown number:

"Hey its olivia can I watch let me in? Kelsys mom says its not scary n she thinks its ok?"

Now, I don't know an Olivia, but I do happen to know that "Let Me In" is a remake of "Let the Right One In," which is a fantastic movie about a child vampire that contains several pretty horrifying scenes involving murder, bullying, and various supernatural phenomena. And though there's no way of telling how old Olivia is, the fact that she's asking for permission suggests that she might not be ready for such a viewing experience. So it was everything I could do not to text back:

"Sure. Just put Kelsy's mom on speed dial for when you wake up with nightmares. Love, Mom."

On second thought, maybe I should have written back. She probably took the lack of response as permission and may be traumatized because I was reluctant to virtually parent a stranger. Nah ... Kelsy's mom seems like she's got everything under control.

Small Humiliations: Part IX

A couple weeks ago, a friend of mine embarked on a quest to find some new jeans. She walked into the department store dressing room with an armful of items and proceeded to the first available empty stall. Once inside, she went to lock the door behind her, not realizing that there was a full-length mirror attached to the back. As she turned, she mistook herself for another person, thinking that she'd mistakenly entered a dressing room that was already occupied and ... this is the best part ... apologized to her own reflection.

Let me just say that again, in case you missed it. This friend glanced at herself in a mirror, didn't recognize her reflection, frightened herself, and said to her image, "Oh! I'm sorry!"

It should come as no surprise that the person staring back at her simply stood there bewildered for a moment before bursting into embarrassed laughter.

Drop Me a Note II (or Halls Well that Ends Well)

Okay, how about these for motivational blurbs:

1.  Call in sick.  Unlike "Keep your chin up," hearing this advice might actually make you smile.

2.  Just get through today.  Far more realistic a goal than "conquering" the day.

3.  Puke and rally!  Let's be honest, it's the best you can hope for.

4.  Cover your mouth, jackass.  Because nobody wants to envy you ... they just don't want to catch whatever knocked you on your ass.

5.  Fuck you, flu!  I realize this one comes with a host of censorship problems, but it expresses everything so completely.

6.  Feeling sucky? Suck on this. This could also be dirty, even dirtier than "You got it in you." But it's more relevant to the product in particular. In fact, I think it should be the company's new slogan. I would buy cough drops with an attitude.

Your move, Halls.

Drop Me a Note

Today I bought a pack of Halls cough drops, due to the fact that my body just finished doing battle with a flu bug the likes of which it had never before seen. I'm pretty sure that its legend will be passed down through generations of white blood cells, whispered in a tone of reverence and awe. In short, I spent the entire weekend splayed out on my couch, aching to the tips of my eyelashes and grateful (as always) for the invention of Imodium and ibuprofen.

However, now that I'm fully rehydrated and have once again graduated to solid foods, I have a lingering head cold and cough that demand soothing. As I opened my pack of honey/lemon-flavored drops, I noticed a peculiar branding effort. On the wrapper, in addition to the Halls logo, were printed several short messages, presumably intended to be inspirational.

I've seen this trend on individually wrapped items before, most notably on Dove chocolates. I find the little notes a tad redundant for that product. I don't need a pep talk, Dove. I already have your chocolate. In fact, if a pep talk was enough, I wouldn't even need the chocolate. But for the moment, I feel just peachy with this slab of fat melting in my mouth.

Anyway, here's what the Halls wrapper said, with my reactions:

1.  Keep your chin up. This I understand. It's motivating, and it implies that you feel my pain.
2.  Conquer today.  A little more vague, but generally uplifting.
3.  Dust off and get up.  All right, already. We get it. You're not taking any excuses. You're our middle school gym teacher. So quit yer hackin' and climb that effin' rope already!
4.  Inspire envy.  I'm not so sure about this one. What exactly are people supposed to envy? My inflamed nostrils?  My watery eyes?  My general lack of focus due to sinus pressure?
5.  Don't try harder, do harder!  Yoda-esque this is. And maybe kind of dirty.
6.  You got it in you.  I don't know what "it" means. The cough drop? Courage? Mucus? Plus, in addition to being grammatically incorrect, it's way dirtier than #5.

Halls, I see what you're going for here. You've got so much wrapper space, and you're using it to try to make me feel even better than your lovely mentholyptus has already accomplished. But I think you could improve.

Tune in to the next entry for phrases that might actually ring truer with someone who's ill.

Small Humiliations: Part VIII

When he was in college, a friend of mine once found himself in urgent need of a bathroom. He rushed to the nearest men's room, which he was delighted to find empty. Once in a stall, chaos ensued, but he naturally felt better. It wasn't until he reached for toilet paper that he truly felt sick.

Empty. Horror of horrors, considering the explosive episode that had just occurred. There was no one to ask for assistance, and to make matters worse, he couldn't do a quick, pants-less shuffle to another stall without exposing his naked rear to the open doorway and countless potential passersby. Plus, he didn't have time to simply air-dry. In his despair, he put his head in his hands.

And that's when he saw it. His checkbook (remember when people wrote checks?) hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans. In a flash of inspiration, he did what any man with limited options would: tore out his carbon checks and proceeded to wipe his ass with them.

Talk about flushing your money down the toilet.

Small Humiliations: Part VII

A few years ago, my sister was dating this guy who was a runner. Actually, he was the first of two runners that we would both come to regret ... her for wasting time caring about jerks, and me for wasting several perfectly good Saturdays standing on the side of marathon routes.

However, if one (and only one) good thing came of this first relationship, it was the following story. If you've ever had any in-depth conversations with runners, you'll know that you hear super disgusting things about how people's digestive tracts react to 26.2 miles and the various ways that competitors deal with their particular situations. This one's not too graphic, just embarrassing, which makes it perfect.

Evidently this guy was out training one day, and as he ran, his stomach started to feel a little iffy. He was alone on a stretch of road. Another mile passed, and he felt worse, so he thought he could just pass some gas. What happened instead was that a solitary turd popped out the bottom of his running shorts and fell on the highway behind him.

At this point in telling the story, he said, and I quote, "So I laid a road apple. I was like, what am I, a parade pony?"

But sometimes, when things have suddenly turned to crap, there's no fixing it. You have to keep running forward. Just ask my sister.

Small Humiliations: Part VI

One fine autumn evening, my sister and a friend attended an outdoor dance with a Halloween theme. Upon spying someone familiar in the crowd who was dressed as Satan, my sister's friend ran up and proceeded to talk, joke, and good-naturedly harrass the person. That is, until a very unfamiliar voice came from within the mask.

"Do you know who I am?" the person asked.

My sister's friend paused, now unsure of her visual ID. "Uh, yeah."

"Who am I, then?" the person persisted.

Realizing her mistake, my sister's friend replied matter-of-factly, "Duh, you're the devil."

And then she ran away.