Everyone in Minnesota is really friendly. I'm not sure what it is. It might be all the lakes.
It's astonishing to fly over all those little lakes. I've never seen anything like it.
I've never heard Prince on the radio more.
Minneapolis is a pretty pretty city. I hope I have time to explore it more.
Where are you Paul Westerberg?
I drove over the Mississippi today, which is always worth noting.
Also worth noting is that I ran into Barry Sanders at the airport on Sunday, waiting for my flight. It was awesome. I was walking towards my terminal, and I kind of just turned blank. Barry Sanders is walking towards me, I'm ten years old and Barry Sanders is king again. I'm not sure what the expression on my face was, but he must have seen it a million times before, because he just smirked, not like a condescending type of smirk, more like a 'hey, kid' kind of smirk, and then he nodded his head at me. I just stopped and stood there for probably one or two minutes, and kept thinking, 'wow that was cool.'
The following is a list of "perfect careers" suggested to me through a quiz on monster.com
Computer software designer / developer
College professor: philosophy, economics
Intellectual property attorney
Web site designer
Network integration specialist
How could they possibly be serious. Thanks a pantsload.
Once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with 6 weird facts/things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to choose 4 people to be tagged and list their names. No tag backs!!
1. I used my parents' divorce to get out of church, boy scouts, and football.
2. I am going through a major Bob Dylan phase, specifically the song "Tangled up in Blue." I listen to it at least five times a day.
3. On the strength of my first student loan check, I went to the bar 76 nights in a row, only missing the nights of xmas eve and xmas day. We were aiming for 100.
4. So far, I am not a fan of being 23. Debts, uncertainties, debts, living situations, debts.
5. My favorite pen is the Pilot G-2 07 Series. Sometimes I just write with it solely for the act of putting ink on paper. It's meditative.
6. I think spring replaced summer as my favorite season. I may be jumping the gun here.
It: bckwrds05 mrkillboto neblina456 weezerbud
Remember those "The More You Know" ads that NBC shows? I remember them with different NBC actors, saying things like, "Don't take drugs," or, "Stay in school."
I just saw one and the whole PSA is an actor telling you to "never, ever tape yourself having sex. It's the worst idea you could ever have." Etc. etc. etc.
I mean, yeah, I guess it could be a bad idea. But to have some actor, sincere and serious, telling everyone, "Don't make amateur porn," just seems a tad absurd.
One of the reasons why I really like the Detroit Tigers' new manager, Jim Leyland (talking about some prospect at spring training this year):
Don Kelly , an infielder hoping to make the team, got a chance to play the outfield Friday, but from what Leyland said on Saturday, that experiment is already finished.
"One ball was hit to him. He ran a down-and-out pattern (to catch it). He went back, then over, then in. I had two cigarettes before he ever caught it."
Taken from the Detroit News, 3/26/06
He reminds me of Walter Matthau from the Bad News Bears.
A story I wrote, Dead on a Wednesday, got published by a local arts group called The Detroiter. It's really not that spectacular, and the story is no Beyond the Pale by William Trevor (of which, Ron, you were completely right), but I suppose it is kind of neat. And it's a start.
So last night Jesse and I went downtown. Started at the Town Pump, which was fairly busy but nothing out of the ordinary. Actually, an ordinary Friday night is busier than a Tuesday before the Super Bowl. Still fun though. No celebrities there, just a bunch of press people with passes around their necks. Did see a model type, about 6'3" and gorgeous, checking into the hotel. Other than that, just another night at the Pump.
After a pitcher, we decided to check out the Centaur across the street. First floor was dead, second floor was dead, but the third floor was loud and busy. While walking towards the bar, standing next to a window was Sean Salisbury, that big, grey haired football analysist for ESPN. While distracted from walking past Salisbury, I proceeded to bump into Stuart Scott. When I saw who it was, I was startled and just kind of stood there for a few seconds before my feet started working again. I think I startled him too and we just stood there for a few seconds before I mumbled something and kept on walking. We got our beer and I see Tim Cowlishaw, another ESPN guy. Then Jesse and I move to a standing spot where from across the way, we see Jay Mariotti trying to schmooze some 21 year old. He's a short bastard.
Fun night, Detroit is hopping and we're gonna go downtown everynight of the week. If anyone wants in, gimme a call. To not go downtown at least one night this week would be quite silly, in my mind. It's one big drunken carnival -- how often is the city this beautiful and busy?
Today I went for "Phase 2 of the Application," at Pinnacle Advertising. This is basically a way of training employees without paying them. I showed up at 11:30am and was supposed to stay through 8pm, afterwhich I would take some sort of test so they can further scrutinize my qualifications. I don't know what was on this test because I ditched out around 4:30.
My suspicions about this place proved true. This job, indeed, was to be a door-to-door salesman. They didn't call it sales, mind you. As my "observer," Jaris (who was actually quite a nice fella), tried to pitch to me, "You see, what we're doing here is not sales, that's not what we're doing. What we're doing here is promoting." He then went on to try and hawk a book of coupons for forty dollars. Sales, promotions, it's all fucking semantics.
Jaris and I hit about one hundred houses in Canton Township in about two hours. I didn't do anything, really, except listen, ask questions, and follow. A lot of people are understandably rude when salesmen, I'm sorry, promotionsmen, come up to their door in the middle of the afternoon. I was one of those assholes who you see walking around neighborhoods in a suit, the type of person you pretend not to hear the doorbell when it rings. This is all completely understandable; I don't answer the door either and I felt dirty being that guy in suit and tie, trying to hawk things to people who never asked for someone to come to their door and attempt to hawk things.
Look for part two of "Willie Loman for No Man," coming soon . . .
(Jesse just called and we're gonna go see what kinda trouble we can get into amidst the hopeful madness of downtown.)