ipad ipad ipad...

..yadda yadda yadda.

I'm getting into rhythm with the writing. Thinking about changing the front page a bit when I have more time this week.

Since our coupling drifted on the last southern-bound barge, the girlfriend insisted on a date night. Krista's a Wisconsin a native, so while she was screaming at my sorry ass over the Vikings game she's never once seen the Ice Palace, the ice sculptures, or even met a Vulcan. We made our way downtown only to be trapped in a parade. I was screaming out my window while little twerps were packing into the St. Paul. Kris enjoyed the gay festivities...I might have been a little teary eyed myself if I had chugged a pint of Salmari 20 minutes prior. The lights and screaming, freezing children never appealed to my palet. I struggled to remain afloat until dinner.

2 hours later I was seated in a stout by Mancini's, the lady was appalled by the food by the cuisine but the alcohol was enough so I could stand her. As my colleagues remarked outside a Shanghai massage parlour, that was happy ending.

I love St. Paul.

-JKG

mm, Canadian...

...Club.

Storytime, kids. Sit down.

*sip*

There's an old drinking buddy that I've known for some time, we'll name him Dave. Dave's a sort of lucky guy: he's gotten away with a shitty job, above par looks, and simpleton personality by the longest degree. Here's the problem that plagues guys like him, he never attracts the men and women that are attractive to him. No, all day he gets to be advanced by the crazy bitches, the fat chicks, and the misanthropes. The most hilarious moments, though, are with the gays and the cougars.

One of my young male co-workers saw Dave while boozing on Seven Corners. I never batted an eye at his flirtatious inquiry, ignorantly suggesting to my sub-concious that Dave might have looked familiar. The pair chatted. Upon leaving I over heard my gay co-worker smugly remarking, "Oh we'll turn him." Fuck me sideways, but that's what it is to gays, its like big buck hunting for them. While no one should question their flamboyant sexuality but straight men are always the option. Poor Dave, I saw the horrified look on his face when he opened a Nordstrom bag of Armani fragrance. It was his favorite, but the gesture was too much to accept; one sniff and he'd probably be bending over.

*sip*

The most recent situation was with what the media refer to as a Cougar. I nearly spit up my mojito Dave with the other night. She was a co-worker from a different department. Obviously older but still containing her inner beauty, the two flirted awkwardly before turning to us for introductions.

See, everyone thinks that the woman, of an obviously higher sense of self-sexuality and experience, would be the one taking advantage of the lowly innocent boy. After I saw those two I beg to differ. Who says that men in our day don't like the independent, smarter, and much more self-aware. Perhaps we are sick of the constant need to explain, to cling, to be needy. We want a mature female, not these gut-wrenching, classless slobs who drink themselves to even refer to selves and equal parts as "Bitches". No, I think Dave was after her. She may have been, but I was too tipsy to tell.

*sip* Out, Bitches.

-JKG

Sheppard Rd Blues

The rat race decided that I would spend the past seven days working on a collaboration project with another site. In short, there was plenty of stress, confusion, and cold calling to the Atlanta site.

Cold calling is always a load of fun, emphasis on cold...and fun:

"Hi, this is Jorgen...I from the Minnesota office."

"Um...hi."

"Yea, I need to know the old 1999 specifications for XX program."

"Wait, who's this?"

Friday night was spent still at my desk, by the time I came home it was 2am with still a powerpoint to finish for a group meeting tomorrow. In short, by the time I was ready to show some Madisonite friends a night out I was cracked up on 5-hour energy and chocolate milk. We chose alcohol at Tom Reids, bowling at Airport Bowl, and relaxing back at the cribs. By the time we stumbled back, I was barely keeping my eyes open. Krista annoyingly insisted we bake brownies while I passed out for the night.

Sunday

The hangover was unbearable. We made our way to Pannekoeken Huis in St. Louis Park for morning grub. Not wanting to be the social type when the inevitable end occurred, I curled up on the couch and watched Farve smirk his way out of the Superbowl. I hope this isn't a sign for the rest of the week.

Out.

Weekend Beer Run...

..in St. Paul.

There are many ways a young Twin City-ian chooses to spend a weekend night, somehow I managed to glimpse into most of it. I was supposed to meet up with an old college-high friend who moved into the deep south, I stopped out near the Fairgrounds to get rid of some trash and came across a bustling strip mall comics store called Source. Having never been into anything close save Hub Hobby or the Library, I gave it a taste...

There were more D & D dice than literature. There seemed to be many different factions, the card players were the younger, teen- types; huddled over the magic cards yelling incoherently to each other. The college types were in comics section, split between the anime and graphic novels. The old folks were in the games. War games, sci fi games, medieval games; suddenly I realized that nerds were really closet militarists. A chill went up my spine. One of these geeks could be the next Hitler.

I bolted, grabbed the friend and made out to Cathedral Hill. My experience in St. Paul's drinking scene has been limited, so we cruised into the Happy Gnome and filled up on Sierra Nevada Ale and Murphy's Irish Stout in prissy glasses. Across the bar I started up a conversation with a wanna-be drifter. We talked hitchhiking and backcountry living, so I invited him to get a table. The firehouse was cozy, surrounded by 40 somethings on date night. Not our favorite atmosphere. In a bit of irony we dashed out again before we got too tipsy and made our way to the world famous Mickey's. Never did a bowl of chili, grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, and a banana chocolate milkshake taste so good.

The rest of night was a blur. Our companion, Wade, invited us to his Franklin bordello and we kicked a few PBRs, chatted advanced computer systems and property rights, and called it a night. I woke up late Sunday, watched the Cowboys got trampled, texted my friend home to the bayou.

What a weekend...

-JKG

Lassi covered hills...

...is a Norwegian's dream.

My back is the most sore. It was two short climbs into it that I suddenly knew that getting the old pair of Fischer's out of the garage was a miscalculated idea. It has been too long since Ive used them proficiently, and the slipping slush of melting ice and snow made a hearty combination for soreness two long hours later. I really need to get in shape. Too much eating over the holidays, too little walking outside.

Everyone is talking about Haiti earthquake, it really makes lugging my fat ass around on two flat sticks seem insignificant. There is a benefit concert at the Nomad that I will definitely try to go to next week.

ouch.

-JKG

The V in V-Day...

..stands for Vitriolic.

So I opened my new facebook with an ad kindly reminding me how close I am to valentine's day and how much I need to rack up the points beforehand with my current gf in order to score on V-Day. Sounds like a plot to me. It's all wrapped around this new pukefest of film that Nicholas Sparks squeezed out one spirited afternoon.

I don't have a girlfriend. I have a woman named Krista that I see often, we have sex occasionally, and then we sit around with the TV on doing our own business. We don't date, we don't mess around with other people. Is that a girlfriend? I don't think so...but in February, like an annual rekindling of vows, the guy is supposed to buy some flowers, a dinner, two tickets, and the cycle continues.

Whoop-Dee-effing-Doo!

Screw it, I'm not even going to do anything. I'll conveniently forget it Sunday night and no one will be the wiser. If she makes a peep about what her friends are doing or how much she loves Cafe Maude I'll give her my piece. She'll cry, we'll fight more, and I'll forget about being laid till her birthday in September....

When does that movie come out again?

One short entry...

...of my A-typical mondays

8:33 AM, I set two alarms last night since my weekly prep went late. They conspired and went off at the wrong times. So much for the morning run. Too cold anyway.

11:57 my IT co-workers are annoying, trying to tell me the best beer recipe to use on a lonely Friday night. I started surfing a website devoted to office supply weapons, one of these days they'll push me too far and it'll be war.

1:00pm heard on the news there was a guy in Ely who's trying to capture a teddy plopping a few new ones in her den. I kept a window open of the webcam and couldn't bring up the guts to take it down. Voyeurism seems to know no bounds.

4:47pm It's 5 already? Damn, this hasn't been the most productive day.

6:89 pm Had to trade in a berry skin at Micro Center. Surprised at the shmexy brunette maning the counter. Why? With all these nerds working and shopping. The tech bazaar is a step up from Best Buy, but I have yet to find a customer or employee with the social grace higher than a humboldt squid.

Poor girl...maybe she's horrible in bed, snores alot, or likes anime.

-JKG

Sunday Morning Dim Sum...

...Saturday Night Noodle Soup

It was a quick jaunt to Dinkytown for the traditional cantonese fare. Chicken feet, squid, shumai, taro root, plenty of jasmine tea and conversation all around. I grew up with dim sum being a staple Sunday morning get-together for family and business friends. I'd crawl under the table, pop-up for roast duck or dumplings, and talk with my full-blooded cousins. My sibs were always the odd ones out. As best I recall we usually went to a place named Pearl River near what is now hwy 394 and 100. Today, there are many choices: My Village on University, Mandarin Kitchen in Bloomington, and Pagoda on the U of M(n) campus.

My companions were old college friends. In the golden gopher days I was their May Term leader to China. It was one of the first times I drank heavily overseas; hitting bars and clubs every night with a few asian brothers, sick and sweating in the morning. For the largely americana section of the group whose stomachs didn't acclimate to the spicy Szechuan, I was a total ass. To them my favorite quote was "don't feed the bears", addressing the many vendors on the Great Wall, while hypocritically taking a noontime piss off the northern face.

Yea, that was fun...

One of my favorite directors: Zhang Yimou, has a trailer up for his newest 2009 film, A Simple Noodle Story. Its a retelling of the Coen brothers 1984 thriller Blood Simple. There's no doubt I'll be watching it in theaters if it comes over.

Watch the trailer here (youtube)

-JKG

Happy Year of New-ish-ness...

...to you.

I'm supposed to apologize right now, usually bloggers and self proclaimed journalists hold to the rule of updating early and updating often. With the temps reaching the negatives and the snow and ice piling up on my dead-end street there seems to be little excuse why my motivation to write has dwindled. Perhaps the mess that was the holidays was a deterrent: dad ended up in ICU, sibs fresh from east coast grad school complained of the cold, mother being mother...

After a short fiasco with the family pre-new years eve, I dragged my girlfriend over to St. Anthony Main's Picosa to see an old friend, Doug Little. In high school he used put together jazz groups together, talked about his travels in Cuba and welcomed in various musical aficionados into his lowly uptown crib. I was extremely jealous.

In true depressing Minnesota fashion, He never showed up...I ended up downing a shot Canadian Club and a Jameson and Coke while listening to a second rate latin combo. I spyed a rugged old soul in the corner with a funky looking fedora and plenty of hand bling. He talked with the band post set, I thought I recognized him.

more, later...

-JKG