30 May 2007

Today's the day.

I'm finally breaking down and putting my air conditioner in after work today. I think. I've held off because a) it's a pain in the ass (actually the back, and mine has been bothering me lately) and b) it hasn't been that hot. However, I was so motherfucking cranky this morning after getting ready in my humid apartment that it would seem the time has come.

I was going to ask Macho Man to help me, but I want to get it done like, now, and I hate owing people favors. Plus, I did it on my own last year. Then, I had no idea what I was doing. I tried it in the kitchen before I figured out it needed to go in the living room. And I realized after all that I needed wood pieces to put under it so the water would drain properly. This year? I know what to do (and how to avoid cutting the shit out of my hand on the back of the unit).

But I hate losing that window. I love having my windows open. And it's supposed to be in the 70s for a few days after today.

Bah. Maybe it can wait. My laziness and desire to get to yoga on time may make me wait. And I highly doubt it will get done after yoga. It would have to be unbearably hot. I have this thing about waiting until it's nearly unbearable before I use the AC.

I apologize for wasting your time by writing all that. Should there be more blood this year, I'll take pictures so you can revel in my punishment for writing a shitty blog entry.

Side note/product rave: I'm in love with Cherry Coke Zero. Perhaps I don't really remember what regular Cherry Coke tastes like, but if memory serves, it tastes pretty much exactly the same. It's delicious!

24 May 2007

I'm a jaded, cynical bitch with a heart of stone.

Or so it would seem. I found this while getting my daily dose of Jezebel. (By the way, I'm officially in love with Jezebel and want to have a million Jezebel and Jess babies.)

The Knot's list of 100 ways to pop the question is ... um ... hmmmm. Well, I'm not even half of the way through the list and I feel sick to my stomach, I shit you not. Maybe that gives you an idea.

Granted, I'm not the kind of girl who goes in for romantic gestures. I think they seem terribly contrived and beyond cheesy. Want to do something romantic for me? Clean my apartment. Go get the oil changed in my car. Clean the snow off my car. Is it weird that I would consider those things romantic gestures? Meh. They're all sweet things to do that make my life easier. I would much rather have that than a fucking candle-lit bubble bath for two.

If your sweetheart is a teacher, sneak into her classroom before school starts and write your proposal on the blackboard. Stay hiding in the coat closet or right outside the room for the moment she arrives!

Uh, it's not hiding if you're standing outside the door to her classroom waiting for her to come it. Though, that's better than lurking in the closet, I guess.

Stick a ring inside a clear balloon and blow it up. Then fill one entire room of your house with blown-up balloons to surprise your sweetie. Tell her she has to pop every single one until she finds something special inside.

Are you fucking kidding me? I wonder who is going to clean up the mess. I guess it does set you up for a lifetime of cleaning up after you husband.

Speaking of paths, turn off all the lights in your apartment and make a trail of candles that leads to a circle of votives positioned around a ring.

Ugh. I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Make her ring the surprise in a box of Cracker Jacks!

Years later, you'll all have a hearty laugh about the resulting trip to the emergency room. I promise!

Decorate your Christmas tree with lights and just one ornament -- a hanging box with a ring inside!

Right. He's going to decorate the tree all by himself. I'm sure she'll fall for that one hook, line and sinker.

Take your darlin' to the local Fourth of July fireworks show, and have someone announce your proposal before your whole town.

I'm can't possibly be the only person rooting for her to say "no" in these situations, am I?

22 May 2007

Why buy new?

When you can walk around Lake Calhoun for free? I saw Dick Enrico, CEO of 2nd Wind Exercise Equipment, on while I was walking around the lake last night.

Holy balls, that mustache is un-fucking-real in person. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. It's just ... wow.

20 May 2007

Aaaaahhhhh ... Saints baseball.

It was lovely when we got there, but it got awfully chilly (and windy) the longer the game went on. Still, there's nothing quite like enjoying a baseball game and a beer on a spring evening.

17 May 2007

I love weiner dogs.

Wow. A double-post day. Scary!

I couldn't let this pass another day. I'm absolutely in love with dachshunds. I see at least one every time I walk around the lake and they fill me with a ridiculous amount of joy each time.

When I see a dachshund, I feel like squealing with glee. My inner toddler is laughing with delight and clapping her hands at the sight. I wish I could just lay in the grass and roll around with them for a while.

Another dog I've been seeing quite often is the Welsh Corgi. I particularly love the fat ones. Watching them waddle along the path just makes so happy for some reason.

My reaction to the Welsh Corgi isn't quite as strong as it is to the dachshund, but it's close. I find both reactions slightly odd because I really don't like small dogs.

I'm really glad I feel this way about dogs and not about all the babies I see.

God-awful covers.

I have maintained for several years the opinion that Sheryl Crow's cover of "Sweet Child O' Mine" is one of the worst covers ever done. Her stab at "Ring of Fire" on the Johnny Cash tribute show a couple of years ago was also a steaming pile of excrement. However, last night at the gym I heard something that was as bad if not worse than both of those. It was a techno-y sounding cover of The Mamas & the Papas' "California Dreamin'."

I've come to find out it was this version. Holy fucking God, is it ever terrible. And that video makes me feel like I need a shower.

Doing a cover is so hit-or-miss. Another one that I absolutely cannot stand is Ginuwine's version of "When Doves Cry." There are probably more awful covers out there than good ones. But the good ones? Man, they kick much ass.

I absolutely LOVE Pete Yorn's version of "Suspicious Minds." Of course, he hasn't done it in Minneapolis the last two times he's played here. I'm hoping he busts it out when he's back in September opening for Crowded House.

Another cover I find oddly good -- and I'm totally not joking -- is Mariah Carey and Dru Hill covering Prince's "The Beautiful Ones." Seriously. If you're going to cover Prince, you'd better bring it. Picking a semi-obscure song is probably a good place to start. As good as that cover is, it cannot hold a candle to Elbow's cover of "Independent Woman," though. I do suppose the kittens playing the song helps. And it's Elbow. I mean, come on. South's cover of "Bizarre Love Triangle" was excellent, too.

Just because it's the only show where I actually took good pictures, here's a shot from South's show at the Varsity Theater last spring:

15 May 2007

I don't get it.

After yesterday's Blog Stalker reappearance, I've been thinking about why someone would bother to spend time reading a blog they quite obviously dislike. That's confusing enough. But taking the time to leave catty, anonymous comments? What's the fucking point?

If I dislike someone's blog, I just stop reading it. I used to love to read Paul Shirley's work on the Suns' website or for ESPN.com or his MySpace blog. Over time, I started getting kind of annoyed by his attitude. Then there was a day he wrote something that pushed him into pompous douchebag territory and I stopped reading.

I don't think I can link to said entry because you must be a MySpace friend to read his blog, but here's a snippet:

The fun is had in confusing stupid people. They can't tell if we're joking or serious. Since we are shallow humans who get off on the misery of others, this brings us joy. When John said that the girl at his side didn't believe him, I knew that we were playing the four-brothers game. I glanced at her, took in her caked-on makeup and dull appearance and then responded. I assumed that—even though she was dressed in a manner befitting a junior college cheerleader—she must have been smart enough to navigate a fifteen-minute conversation with my peers.


I said, in mock horror, "Well, then she must be stupid."

I said it just loud enough for her to hear, but quietly enough that she should have known that I was acting as if I were telling John in confidence.

She didn't pick up on my intent.

She did, however, reach up and slap the everliving shit out of me.

I'm fine with mocking dumb people. I do it all the time. But I can't imagine a situation where I would tell some dude I didn't know that he was stupid. Because he doesn't know me and my sense of humour. And because it's just a shitty thing to do. However, I wasn't going to post a comment to Paul Shirley's blog telling him what an asshole I thought he was for doing that and that he probably deserved to be slapped. Why the fuck would he care what I think? I'm not going to waste my time and energy (though I just wasted time and energy looking up that damn blog entry) to tell him that. I just stopped reading.

I stopped reading Bill Simmons ages ago. Why? Because he's a tool. End of story. I'm done reading him and I'm not going to bitch about what he is writing because I couldn't possibly care less any more. As a matter of fact, I stopped reading Page 2 entirely quite some time ago because I think the whole thing went in the shitter.

Maybe it's a necessary catharsis for Blog Stalker. I don't know. Personally, I have better things to do with my time than reading something that drives me to annoyance. He/she can go ahead and register if he/she still wishes to comment, but I'm no longer allowing anonymous comments. If you're going to talk shit, don't be a pussy about it.

Random side note: My mom had made tator tot hotdish for my brother a couple weeks ago and had frozen some for me. I brought it back with me on Sunday and had some for lunch today. It was so oddly satisfying. Bless those Lutherans and their cream of mushroom soup.

14 May 2007

A case of the Mondays.

BLAH. I really hope this is a case of the Mondays and not another extended bout of PMS. Perhaps it's family-hangover. Even when it's a pleasant visit, spending a day with my family wears me the fuck out.

Took my nephew to see Spider-Man 3 Friday night. It was a bit of a let down, but it wasn't terrible or anything. I'm still giggling about emo Peter Parker. My nephew liked it, but was a bit put off by all the kissing. And there was a lot of it. Booty Call Matt said he heard it was a date movie. But really, can't any movie be a date movie? Are The Fifth Element, Sphere, Get Shorty, Murder at 1600, Gladiator, The Avengers and Event Horizon date movies? Because I saw all of them on dates.

For some reason I have this feeling that I have nothing to look forward to at the moment. That may be kind of true for this week, but in the grand scheme of things it couldn't be further from the truth. There's BRMC a week from tomorrow, the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie next weekend, a day off work, beer festivals, block parties and other crap. I think I just need to go to bed early tonight or something. Everything will look better in the morning.

It's Whatshisfuckingface's birthday today. I hope he gets shitty gifts.

09 May 2007

One more for the road.

So, Drive 105 is gone. I'm certainly not broken up about it. God knows I've heard the Red Hot Chili Peppers enough at this point in my life.

Even though I stopped listening to Drive when The Current came along and I got my iPod Nano, I visited the website to enter their contests about once a month. They sent me to some decent shows over the past few years -- Ed Harcourt's acoustic show at the Ascot Room (with Sondre Lerche and Rachael Yamagata), Snow Patrol, um ... I'm sure there were a few more. But I can only remember shows to which The Onion sent me all of a sudden.

But wait! There was a message on my phone yesterday afternoon from Drive 105. Turns out I'm on the guest list tonight to see Peter Bjorn & John at First Ave. Thanks, Drive 105. That's a nice last hurrah. And yay me!

08 May 2007

Hurts so good.

I toasted the bread for my sandwich today (whole grain bread, turkey, reduced fat provolone cheese, spinach and pickles) and it totally scraped up my mouth. Like, the equivalent of the roof of my mouth, but on the bottom. What's that part called? I highly doubt it's called the floor. It would make sense if it was called the floor. Things so rarely make sense, though.

But the pain is so worth it. There's just something about toasting the bread that takes a lame turkey sammich up a few notches. Delicious!

This whole eating healthier thing I've been doing for a few weeks or a month is pretty awesome, by the way.

07 May 2007

Where are you, Joe Rock?

So, I'm one of those nerds who is all geeked up for her class reunion. In fact, I'm involved in planning this year's reunion.

Let it be known that I went to a small, rural high school. My graduating class had 72 people in it -- three were exchange students. We didn't have the normal cliques that I heard about other kids having in their high schools. You know how people of a certain age often ask the "Which Breakfast Club character were you?" My usual answer is "A little of each one." It was possible in my high school. Though, I guess I wasn't that much of a Princess or a Criminal. It's hard to be a diamond earring-wearing, sushi eater when you're the daughter of a farmer.

Our 1)-year reunion was alright. However, the real fun came after the actual reunion when we hung out at our friend Beaner's house. A few of us sat around a fire until 5:00 a.m. It was a blast. That experience is what we're trying to recreate with this reunion -- a hog roast at the lake.

It's been a challenge finding old classmates. I'm on the verge of starting to call people's parents to get their contact information. But I'm such a dork that I get all nervous about doing that kind of thing. So, Joe Rock, if you're out there, drop me a line so I don't have to call your mom and dad. Please?

03 May 2007

Shoddy copy editing Thursday.

Once again, it is Thursday and I'm noticing errors in Strib stories. God help me, I can't stop myself from seeing them and becoming annoyed.

There's this bit from a story about the disappearing bee phenomenon: "There would be food left for humans become some food is wind-pollinated."

And this is from a story about the WWII memorial being constructed at the capitol: "The memorial, now nearing completion, is flanked by memorials honoring vets of wars in Korean and Vietnam, erected in the 1990s."

Also, this from Jon Bream's review of last night's Amy Winehouse show: "Winehouse seemed tormentedly morose on the choruses, staring at the floor, left hand in jeans pocket; then she lit up on the choruses like a dynamic soul siren." Side note: I am so fucking kicking myself for slacking on getting a ticket for that show. I hate myself for missing it. I suck.

I thought I saw one in CJ's column today, but I either imagined it or I'm thinking of something from earlier this week. I haven't the foggiest idea why I read CJ's column. Though, her "Verbal Assault" feature is right up my alley. Someday, I will be on her Panel of Amazing Grammar Experts.

What usually happens when I make a comment about someone else's grammar or spelling? I screw something up myself, of course. The first time I typed the previous sentence it said, "or course." I'm mortified when I send an e-mail with a typo or grammatical error. The same goes for commenting on blogs or posting on message boards -- I'm absolutely filled with shame. I got problems, y'all.

01 May 2007

Happy music dork.

I spent an inordinate amount of time yesterday compiling my 10-song request list and three-song set for today's Radio Free Current. I was actually looking forward to sitting at my desk all day and listening to hear if anything I requested (and any of my comments) made it on to the airwaves. Because I'm a major dork. It's hearing the things other people have requested, too. I give major props to the person who requested Elbow's "Any Day Now."

What I didn't know about was the hourly poll featuring songs from one of 15 "core" artists, where we get to vote which Johnny Cash, Pixies, The Clash or Dan Wilson/Semisonic/Trip Shakespeare song the DJs would play. The noon poll was for Beth Orton and the winning song was "Concrete Sky."

I was pretty stoked because "Concrete Sky" was one of my requests. I was even more stoked when Steve Seel read my comment about the song on the air. Whoooooooo! And 15 minutes later was Gomez's "We Haven't Turned Around." That song was on my list, too. And apparently, it was my request, because I am Jess from Minneapolis and I totally said that (at 1:18 p.m.).

Yes, I'm entirely too excited about this. I can understand people being completely confused as to why I would be so excited. There is the aforementioned dorkiness. The songs I chose represent a pretty significant time in my life and at the same time, they really make me appreciate the fact that The Current exists. I can't tell you how great it is to have a radio station that plays music I love for most of the day; where I can hear Mary Lucia play Tone Loc or LL Cool J in the middle of the afternoon or hear Rick James followed by Franz Ferdinand and Marty Robbins. I don't have to work nearly as hard to find new music today as I did in the days before The Current hit the airwaves.

I don't think I can adequately explain it. I get that way about music fairly often.