Family Breakfast

Lisa, Stan, and Noah went to breakfast with Sarah and me at Butter in South Minneapolis. I guess I’m not such a big fan of snooty breakfast places, but I will eat anywhere with the Keathlys.
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That’s a Big Turkey

A couple of weeks ago, right before finals week, I hosted a makeup Thanksgiving for the previously-sicker-than-dogs Keathlys, my Mom, her husband John, and Donald and Chandler. It went well and dirtied every matching dish that I have in my apartment. Sarah photographed the whole deal, so I’ll use her photos for once.

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Jamba Crack Cocaine

This morning I checked my “mailbox” at “work” and found that my boss’s boss’s boss had signed off on my “Regent’s Scholarship.” More importantly, there was a coupon for a free Jamba Juice. I already knew that their smoothies were some sort of blender candy, but their “Chocolate Moo’d” smoothie tastes exactly like Reese’s Pieces. I think that I am going to “die.”


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How Much Ice Cream Is Too Much?

It was Donald’s birthday today, and somehow I managed to secure an invite to his small gathering despite being in general being quite juvenile. His notion was to hand crank some strawberry ice cream. You may be aware of my slight intolerance for lactose. I can eat cheese and yogurt, but I have to watch my consumption of raw milk and ice cream. That’s okay with me because I don’t have the same ice cream cravings as the usual joe (unless it’s the Haagen Dazs “Mayan Chocolate” which is made from the lightly roasted souls of children and makes baby Jesus cry when you put it in your mouth oh dear lord I want some right now). Upon completion of the cranking we sampled the ice cream and it was so good that I ate more than I intended.

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To Be Honest, I Hadn’t Made Plans

I called Sarah tonight to let her know that I had a whole roll of her film ensleeved in a plastic negative page thing. Right. She asked what I was going to be up to tonight. I don’t remember for sure if I had yet eaten my advanced bachelor chow yet: leftover rice from Tariq (up the street), rice and chicken from Sarah’s house (a totally different kind), some bacon and eggs hash from a week or so ago, and a half a gallon of Huy Fong Chili Garlic Sauce. Apply microwaves, do a dance in your underpants, take out the trash, and eat while watching scratchy network programming roll up your television. I had to toss out the uncooked bacon, which implies to me that it had not enough nitrates in it — or I am not eating bacon fast enough. It was expensive pork tummy, too, so I’d say the latter. Note to self: eat bacon nonstop.

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Professor, What’s Another Name For Pirate Treasure?

Today I did many things. I had a job interview at my job to get hired to do more job things. I faxed in proof of employment (for suitably internet printed definitions of “proof”) and was immediately approved to rent an apartment for about the same rent as the place in Anoka, except on my own. I finished my Computer Science 4061 homework instead of clocking in at work so that I could go to Sarah’s studio and review her work so she could have some feedback before her first year MFA review thing tomorrow, only to have her cancel when I called at five, but hey, that was okay, because I needed to put that time in on the homework anyway or it wouldn’t have been done in time, I went to my “Introduction to the Internet” class and then followed my professor to the eating and boozing establishment known as the “Big 10.”

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There was a surprise birthday party for Zach on Friday. Booze attended. I almost peed on Sarah’s dresser in the middle of the night.

“You’re not in the bathroom!”

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The Keathlys made cookies last night. I helped until I got kicked out for doing things like this:
Fucking Elephants

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What’s brown and stains the kitchen?

I spent like two days making the mole for my Chicano Studies class. I brought it to the potluck and was declared an “honorary Latino” by my professor, so I think that’s a good thing. I finally got to trot out my best Spanish line: “Mi estómago habla español mejor que yo,” which means: “my stomach speaks better spanish than I do.”

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Whenever I get to Norway, I am required by law to eat smalahove. That’s half a sheep’s head. Yes, I will eat anything. Photo courtesy h0bbel, who is my Norwegian brother.

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