So, I was just hassling Jumi about not updating daily in November. And now look.
The thing is, there’s been life, and a lot of it. But since I haven’t had time to wrap my head around it all yet, I will placate you with the usual goings-on. Friday night, Matt and I dined at Grumpy’s, and I was way more excited about the BBQ mock duck sammich and tots than I should’ve been, but they were damn good. I’m starting to like that place a lot, due to the awesomeness of their staff, their jukebox (despite the fact that we heard Major Tom twice over the course of the evening), and the fact that it’s almost right down the street from Mariucci Arena, but safely out of fratboy territory. The problem with the mock duck sammich and tots is that I didn’t feel like eating a pretzel at hockey, and I always eat a pretzel at hockey. So the nervewracking 5-5 tie against St Cloud State? Might have been my fault. I’m very very sorry for that, and I’ll never do it again. We returned to Grumpy’s for postgame, and I really wish I could tell you the story of the delicious shots we did, but you’d just laugh at me. It was awesome, though. Saturday morning, I joined my mad crew at Hell’s Kitchen for brunch. Now, I don’t generally get orgasmic over food, but that place is fantastic. We had to wait way too long to get seated (even with reservations, it took a half-hour) and served, but the food made up for it. I had Mahnomin porridge and bruschetta with lemon oil and fresh berries. We had a massive array of coffee and food (including bison sausage) spread all over the table, and we all left there very happy. Afterward, I got the massage I’ve been desperately in need of for far too long, seemingly at the exact right time as well. I did my erranding and such, and in the evening we had dinner at Chiang Mai, where everything was ridiculously charming, especially our server with his tiny, tiny tie, and the sculpture of elephants inside a log. We went to Lyle’s to watch the Gophers game, and were later joined by Cindi, who is now officially in charge of making sure that Sister Christian plays on the jukebox every time we’re there, if only because it inspires us all to simultaneously text either Wendy or Dodgeball with MOTORIN’! The game was another painful event to watch, and ended again in a tie. I really hope the pretzel debacle wasn’t the cause of that as well. We decided to head to the Otter for karaoke; on the way out, we were stopped by a guy who wanted to express his approval of our complete rockin’-out to Cindi’s excellent playlist. So funny. The Otter was, well, as it always is: loud and crowded and vastly entertaining. I’m not convinced that even half the crowd there was actually of drinking age. Cindi and I made bad decisions and danced; Matt showed up all the kids at karaoke. And upon leaving, we licked the place. Don’t tell Lyle’s. And then? I found myself in White Castle. Oh, fate. This morning it was nearly impossible to get out of bed, but the laundry was unfortunately not about to wash itself. It took me over an hour to accomplish the basic tasks of showering and pants-application. I dragged my collosal bag of dirties to the laundromat and ran errands while it became clean. I purchased half of Target, and then mosied over to the Uptown Bar for lunch, which is the weekend meal for people who sleep too late even for brunch. I may start a new trend with this. Round about dinnertime, I went to work, dammit. We have an upgrade going out Wednesday, and I wanted to get some stuff rewritten and tossed in the client’s lap first thing tomorrow morning. It was actually pretty nice to be there alone: I’m alarmingly productive when I start hearing noises and convince myself that there’s either a serial killer in the building, or the polar bear in the penthouse has come back to life and wants revenge. And now, dear internet, I am going to go collapse. I will see you tomorrow. Jenni