03 August, 2012

Second day of my mini-cation (aka Why I need to go to Nordeast more often).

So, it turns out that I netted a sunburn during the Turf Club debacle yesterday. Thankfully it's more of a coloring than an irritation.
Today, I didn't know what I wanted to do, really. I knew I had to do laundry - Friday is laundry day, no matter what - but after that I had no plans. I thought about going to the museum across the street but I got invited to a gallery opening shindig whatchamacallit tonight so I'll probably have art overload if I try to do both. Bell Pepper Hating Christine told me about a Self Evident show over at the Triple Rock but I don't know if I'll make it. That and I'm still pissed off about dropping thirty dollars on two shitty bike repairs yesterday.
So my first order of business was to get my bike fixed right and go to Flanders Bros. I'm going to center align this next part just so y'all knuckleheads get me:
Flanders Bros. is the best bike shop in Minneapolis.
I took my bike in this morning while my clothes were in the dryer, told the guy that I needed my brakes tightened and he says, "Oh, let me show you a trick. You see this little barrel-drum here?" And boom-boom-boom, no tools, no wait, no hassle, my brakes are right where they're supposed to be. Less than a minute and not charged one copper Yankee cent. I then used this information to fix the brakes on Scott's bike when I got back to the house.
I also cleaned up the back porch and the fire pit. So, Occupier who stayed with us this past winter, sorry, but all those cans of paint and stencils you left behind? You have until garbage day in the Historic Mansion district to come dig them out of the trash cans in the alley. Considering you haven't contacted us about your paint in the eight months since you stayed with us, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you forgot them. Also? I'm pretty sure it was one of your drunk-ass friends that vandalized the staff refrigerator, specifically my food, thus causing me to buy twelve feet of chain and lock my fridge every night, so let's call it even.
Then, thinking ahead toward dinner - at 1400CDT, mind you - I got a hankering to go to Kramarczuk's and get some Thüringer Rostbratwurst, a particular kind of bratwurst from the German state of Thuringia. Kramarczuk's has everything but not always everything. One time I saw they had alligator sausage. I knew people ate alligator but I didn't know they made sausage out of the bastards. So, I decided to head up to Kramarczuk's to see if they have this particular kind of sausage.
On the way there, I stopped at Nye's Bar, a nice little Polish place down the block from Kramarczuk's. I had a Grain Belt and watched the Olympic water polo on the TV with the bartender. I guess I got a hankering for Nye's after watching Factotum - the movie where Matt Dillon stars as Bukowski's Hank Chinaski and was filmed in the Twin Cities trying to convince the viewer it was the same as Los Angeles (hint: it's not). At one point, after about forty five minutes or so of me recognizing the decidedly un-LA landmarks, Matt Dillon as Chinaski stumbles into Nye's. I figured, I hadn't been to Nye's in a few years, I always liked the place, why not go check it out?
I eventually asked the bartender if he was working there when that movie was filmed. Turns out that not only was he working there, he was on the clock that night that they filmed there, he just didn't show up on screen. That was cool, I guess.
Then I went to Kramarczuk's for some Thüringers. They didn't have any so I thanked the kid and told him I would just browse. The Krakowska caught my eye and I asked the kid and he said it was a ham based sausage that was very garlicky. At this he made a face to indicate that the garlic was too much for him. He told me he could give me a sample and I said sure, a small one. I tried it and, you know? I thought it was pretty great. So, yeah, it was US$7.09/lb but I said hell with it, I'm on goddamned mini-cation and it's about goddamned time I buy something I actually goddamned want, so give me a pound of that.
And here's the thing: After all those dirty looks for asking for ice water yesterday, I get thank you, sirs and can I help you, sirs and come again, sirs from the starched-collared bartender at Nye's and the cap wearing kid at Kramarczuk's. So, yeah, fuck the Saint Paul Starbucks (he said as though there were only one) and fuck the muffin booth at the Greenway bike shop (which shall remain nameless even though it's totally easy to figure out); I'm all about Nordeast MPLS. OK, and Whittier. I live in Whittier and I think it's cool here so I'm down with Whittier, too.
After that, I went to the library and picked up a library card, the first I've had since NWOH.
So day two was much more pleasant. The only gripe I have is that now it's only twenty to five and I have no idea what to do with myself.
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