Let There Be Cake

Just as I was starting to get some homework done, or at least started, or at least resented, I got a text message on my phone. Will the wonders never cease? I mean, holy shit, a month ago my old phone didn’t even get phone messages — I would get a few blocks from home and all of a sudden it would go apeshit with bells and buzzing letting me know that I had a voice mail from my dad and my sisters singing “Happy Birthday” into my voice mail. This is why I don’t call them back — I cannot fucking stand that fucking shit and it is definitely not something that I want to encourage. In any case, my phone told me that I had a message, so I checked it, and it was something like this:

“Which do you prefer, late-night-cake or before-school-cake?”

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All Better

Here is my recipe for happiness:
Mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
India Pale Ale
Grilled Cheese and Turkey Sammich

Surprisingly, we still have turkey in the fridge. Stan hasn’t been using it to make sandwiches at all, despite having a pristine breast to devour. I took it upon myself to slice it as thinly as I could, then liberated three slices to insert between cheese and bread to form a sandwich. Quick minutes in the pan yielded a moist and melty sammich with crispy bread. I think it was the making that really made me feel better, but the juicy turkey might have had something to do with it.

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Gobble gobble

Before:

After:

Actually, the after picture is from after browning the skin at 500, but before the hours in the oven becoming moist and delicious. I learned a lesson, though: make the roux first so you can refrigerate it until it is time to make the gravy. That’s right, I said roux. Really, this was a genius Thanksgiving dinner. Six people finished four bottles of wine, not counting me because I only had half a glass before someone bussed it while I was uploading my mom’s Mexico photos.

By the way, I had Stan take me to Grumpy’s Friday night, and then came home and drank some more while making an ill-advised phone call that lasted a couple of hours. It was a mess. The things that I had promised my friends that I would say before going out were said and then slowly and painfully retracted, point by point. Afterwards, I called Melody for advice and consolation, and was thankful that the two hour time difference made the phone call not be at the butt crack of dawn for her. She returned the favor by drunk dialing me from the Rasputina concert.

More people should drunk dial me. I still have a karmic debt from New York City, and my phone actually works now.

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Oh, snap, guess what I saw

Snap! Pizza and Ice Cream
2851 Johnson Street NE
Minneapolis, MN 55418
(612) 788-9800

Snap! has been open in Northeast Minneapolis for a couple of weeks now, and this household continues to order the pizza. We ordered a BBQ chicken and a pepperoni/(green olive|sausage) pizza last time, and they were again much better than any of the chain pizzas that we could order. However, whereas the first pizza we had ordered was a little burnt on the bottom, the crusts of these pizzas were underdone. They didn’t have any… snap at all. The crust was too doughy and tasted too wheaty. On the plus side, the sausage came in large spicy chunks and the BBQ chicken was the equal of any that I have ever had, except for the crust. If they improve their baking techniques, their dough recipe and their bland red sauce I will be very happy instead of just happy.

We still won’t be ordering from Papa John’s.

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Oh Snap!

Snap! Pizza and Ice Cream
2851 Johnson Street NE
Minneapolis, MN 55418
(612) 788-9800

Snap! Northeast Minneapolis Minnesota

We ordered pizza from Snap! in Northeast Minneapolis. The pepperoni and green olive pizza was a little overcooked on the bottom (and tasted too much like flour). The veggie pizza was perfectly cooked but the sauce was a little bland. I think that we expected a little more flavor from a side project of the people who brought us the concentrated deliciousness that is Pop!, but on the other hand, it was the day after I saw them open for the first time.

I’m just glad that we don’t have to order from Papa Johns anymore.

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Melonade

Have you had a glass of melonade today?

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(612) 626-ROCK

Yesterday when I should have been working on homework I went to see Pretty Persuasion and have tapas sabrosas! Solera was fucking delicious!

When I got home I spent the entire night twiddling bits. No, I don’t mean the five knuckle shuffle, I mean applying bitmasks and cursing bitwise operations left and right. Somewhere around the time that Stan got up I went downstairs to pee.

“Hey, Jesse, why are you up so early?”
“I’m still up.”
“Oh, maybe going to the movie last night wasn’t such a good idea.”

Possibly, although the movie and food consumed like three and a half hours and the homework took… nine. Nine grueling hours of C. However, I did learn useful skills, like how to count the bits in an integer without using loops. What am I saying? That will never be useful.

I bought a couple of watts in the powersurge. So did Zach. Two of my four favorite DJs were on the air (and King Kwong is on the air now, which makes three out of four). David Hill from the Whole downstairs was on the air, so it was like a big party full of awesomeness and joy. We totally blew up their goals for their shift, so rock on, K. Rock on with your bad self.

If you want to play a game along with your Radio K listening experience, you could try out DJ Bingo. If you have ever been involved with college radio (or just listened to it) you might enjoy the experience. It was inspired by the Strong Bad radio bit. If I ever take a day off of work to… uh… drink, I will listen to Radio K and use the DJ Bingo game, although such activities are actually absolutely contraindicated on the page.

I may have purchased a new walking around lens for my good camera. Ahem.

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In case I forget

Saturday I stepped on the scale and it came up 198! Have you heard of the hacker’s diet? I’ll let you google for it, but it’s what my beer and pizza diet is based upon. The important thing to note is that one’s consumption and expulsion of water is directly connected to those five pound fluctuations in one’s weight, so dehydration can temporarily pull your weight way down. Nonetheless, this is the lowest that I have dipped in probably six or seven years, and I don’t mean morally.

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And I guess that I miss you

And I’m sorry if I dissed you

I was a bit down Friday, so after taking a late nap I went for a drive into the black pools of night collecting in the streets. It’s hard to say where I went, but it wasn’t like riding a bike. The road glides effortlessly beneath you in a car. The air rushes past but leaves you untouched. The trip kept my head above water.

So today I woke up from pleasant dreams to the sound of the phone. I missed the call, but the answering machine revealed the caller to have been Cake Woman with a business proposition: if I were to replace the serpentine belt on her car she would provide me with delicious Maibock. For those of you who don’t know, I don’t need to be bribed to help my friends, and I don’t keep track of “debt” of favors unless it seems like someone expects me to owe them something, so really, if you need something done and you need help you should just ask and not worry about bribing me with beer. I do appreciate gifts of beer, though, even if, like in this case, I bought the beer in the first place.

Since I hadn’t eaten anything but Cheetos and a fudgie brownie since noon the previous day, Cake Woman and I moseyed up to Ready Meats, the local butcher shop. It was almost five at that point, so the store was packed with last minute shoppers.

I gave your mom the five o’clock meat rush last night!

Cake Woman is pretty goddamn funny. We proceeded to make every possible meat, sausage, and bacon joke while inside the store and walked out with a brat and two apple sausages. The butcher called Cake Woman “kitten,” which had the same effect on her as when a waitress calls me “sugar,” “darlin’,” or “get the fuck out, shithead.” Our meat was cooked, the beer was consumed, and I changed Cake Woman’s belt in less time than it took to get my tools out of the car. I didn’t even need the tools. We watched cartoons for a few hours after that, and almost watched Closer before she revealed that she had to work at seven in the morning.

As Cake Woman made her graceful exit I remembered the Dallas Orbiter show that I was almost missing. Despite the scarcity of parking on the West Bank I still managed to park for free. Mark Edwards was cool, with the layered on-site sampling of his own beat boxing, guitar, and singing. I heard the Ryan Lee Music band thing compared to Dave Matthews, which was not entirely inappropriate, except that I didn’t want to gouge out my own eyes so much. Well, whenever their awful synths played those hell spawn preset pads, yes, but the rest of the time it was all right. The old dude with the huge beard who was riding a scamp and then dancing while leaning against the bar liked it just fine, and said so loudly.

I had Beamish Irish Stout and Lodahl bought me a shot of Patron. I also drank four pints of water and had a gyro from the shop next door. I think that the Nomad might be my Wednesday night West Bank dinner spot, what with the gyros and stout and all. The one thing that I wonder about (and this will roll through my head all night) is if that cute waitress brushed past me three times in close succession to get my attention, or if I am justing building sand castles in my imaginary beach. Lisa said that doesn’t happen by accident. Melody agreed (hooray for late night AIMing). I may go back for the Beamish and a gyro on Wednesday just to scope out the situation, especially since I can make it my pre-art class meal. Or, if I were really crazed I could show up for that Roshambo business.

Oh, what am I saying? Cute dreadlocked waitresses aren’t into dorky computer science sophomores. She probably just had schmutz on her boob that she wanted to wipe off on an unsuspecting patron.

It was the other bartender who played Modest Mouse, anyway. I think. Never mind! GOD! I’m going to bed. Also, I’m gonna start calling women “kitten.”

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Open Bar, Dude!

I have been having a great time! Everyone is awesome, and we were all BFF. We are visiting Bharat’s palatial Google estate in Chelsea (just down the street from the Rawhide bar, grrrrowl!) and there will soon be massive amounts of food delivered. My laptop has been unable to connect to the wifi in the hotel, so I’m depending on the kindness of strangers. Well, the kindness of Bharat. Anyway, I have to try and be a little bit social now. HAHAHAHAHA! I gave the first “toast” last night, and by toast I mean long winded, hysterically funny, and completely blue speech. Bharat’s was better, h0bbel’s was amazing, and I was closing out the open bar during Volksport’s speech (which got a lot of laughs, but free wine! Free Wine!).

Dubonnet! Delicious!

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