Rest in Peace, St. Pauly Girl

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

You Can Take the Girl Out of the Midwest, But You Can’t Take the Midwest Out of the Girl

St. Pauly Boy and I traveled to good ol’ Orange County, CA for a mini-vacation this past weekend. The trip was encouraged by a Dave Matthews concert in Irvine, which happens to be where SPB’s apartment is, where he stays when he travels there for business. We turned it into a long weekend where we spent time relaxing, driving down the coast, eating out at fabulous restaurants, and wave jumping at the beach.

There are many great aspects of SoCal, one being the amazingly & consistently perfect weather. It was sunny and warm everyday and never too hot to be uncomfortable. But the weather cannot deter us from outlining our negative experiences in The OC. Both SPB and I feel the same about this area of the country….too many snobs, too much materialism, too much fake-wealth*, too many fake boobs, too many Coco Chanel sunglasses, too many strip malls, office parks, and actual real-sized malls, and way too much traffic on The 405. Maybe it’s just me, but seeing a license plate on the back of a Lexus that says “PAMPRRRR” does not make me envious of the owner/leaser of that car. It makes me sad that they feel it necessary to display their materialistic lifestyle for the world to see. Now, I’m not suggesting that SPB and I don’t have our fair share of unnecessary material items or “toys”, if you will, but in our humble area of the country it seems to be a lot less in-your-face than it is in The OC. It’s a way of life out there. It’s a standard. You must have expensive things in order to survive. At least that’s how it feels to a lowly Midwestern girl, such as myself. I realize there are probably some very normal folks out there, it’s unfortunate that they are overshadowed by all the assholes.

We spend one of our relaxing days on the beach, which I haven’t actually done since I was about 17 years old and took a trip to South Carolina to visit a high school friend over the summer. I had to relearn the ways of the ocean that day. How to keep yourself from falling over when even the teeniest of waves hits your legs. How to walk through the sand without completely falling over. How to dig yourself out of the hole that the tide pulls you into on it’s way back out to sea as the next wave competes with it’s direction. Quite frankly, it scared me. The power of the waves is not something that I take lightly. I’m not even a big fan of swimming in rivers, much less a body of water where it’s physically impossible to see to the other side, much less swim to it. But what I did love is the sense of pure exhaustion that you leave the beach with, like your body is telling you “THAT’s what exercise feels like you big lazy piece of shit!”. I certainly slept good that night.

Another accomplishment that I am proud of from my CA weekend is my new taste for Sushi. SPB is a sushi-connoisseur, of sorts. Obsessed with all things raw w/seaweed & rice. I’ve tried my hand at the California Roll and even a bit of Unagi (which is actually cooked, I come to find out, making it much less frightening). But when asked what I thought after cramming the whole piece of Eel in my mouth, I replied with “Well, it’s definitely fishy.” But my sushi-lovin’ husband took me to his favorite sushi spot in Seal Beach, a restaurant called Koi. And let me tell you, I’m on the bandwagon now. I had Toro, Saki, and Unagi and I loved every little bite. It was music to SPB’s ears, let me tell you.

When we weren’t out to eat or laying on the beach, we were vegging-out in the apartment watching the Boob Tube.** Before SPB even got out of bed on Saturday, I managed to watch 3 Cary Grant movies in a row and could have stayed for the remainder of the Cary Grant Marathon on TCM. How easy it is to get sucked in by him. I don’t regret a single moment.

We did have our very first celebrity citing after 4 weekend vacations to SoCal. We arrived early to the LAX on our way home on Sunday afternoon so we decided to actually use SPB’s membership to the Northwest World Club (a.k.a. vip lounge mainly used by business travelers who’s company pays for the membership but it’s not worth paying for yourself because it’s pretty much a huge let down). I was filling up my Sierra Mist from the soda fountain and I heard a guy say “We’ll be ready for you in 10 minutes, Mr. Norton”. I didn’t think anything of it until I turned around and was face-to-face with Ed Norton. He made eye contact with me and all I could do was grin at him, which I’m sure looked really fucking stupid, but he grinned back and I was on my way. I sat down next to my husband and stared at the back of his head while I pretended to read my book. When the man came back to collect Mr. Norton, I watched as he took his time to finish his text message on his Blackberry, gathered up his backpack, threw on his sunglasses (s.e.x.y., not gonna lie to you), and proceeded to follow his butler (or whatever that guy was). I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I’m not used to seeing celebrities in person, it’s only happened a hand-full of times. So I stared. I didn’t realize it, but I stared. I’m a humble Midwestern girl with absolutely no idea how to behave in the presence of movie stars. He didn’t seem to care, he was a pretty laid back airline customer who was just trying to get where he was going. After he left, I decided that I very much needed to sit in his chair. So I did. And when it was time to board our flight, we left the World Club and proceeded to our gate and SPB took the opportunity to get his fair-share of the Norton Ass Juice (his words, not mine) by grabbing my butt. I was bummed Ed*** wasn’t going to Minneapolis. I wanted to spend more time gawking.

All in all, it was a fabulous trip. But as the flight captain welcomed us to the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul after landing, I felt home again. And home is where my professional sports teams are, so I think we’ll call it home forever.


P.S. The concert was cool too.
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* If you lease a Range Rover or a Hummer, you are not “wealthy”. If you carry a 100,000 debt on your credit cards and lease a “luxury” apartment for $5000 a month, you are not “wealthy”. That sort of thing.

** Don’t lecture me about laying around watching TV when I’m in a place like CA where I should be outside enjoying the beautiful weather. It’s my damn vacation.

*** I think it’s ok with him that I call him Ed after we shared that very intimate moment at the airport.

Weekly Recap: St. Pauly Girl's Lessons Learned

1. Make sure your alarm clock is set to the appropriate AM/PM setting.

2. Always double check that the windows on your car are rolled up when there's a possibility of rain in the forecast. Triple check the sunroof.

3. Don't take your meds on an empty stomach. They aren't kidding around when they say that Dizziness is a strong possibility as a side-effect.

4. The dog doesn't always understand that the screen door is not supposed to function as a "doggy door". May need to keep the storm door closed at all times unless you are into the Ghetto Fabulous look of a torn screen door.

5. Always answer your phone when a Montpetit is calling.

GOD I can't wait for school to start again.

Why would the school season have any effect on my life, you ask? We don't have kids, neither one of us is in school right now, and neither one of us teach for a living. And yet, I am counting down until the kids* go back to school. Well, let me explain. The school year brings CURFEW back into business. I'm not talking about city law enforcement I'm talking about parental law enforcement. During the school year, the kiddies have to be home by the time the street lights come on and the older kids have so much homework because they go to shee-shee private prep schools that they don't have enough time to stay out late at night. Shit, the 9th graders are already working on the college applications, they don't have time to terrorize the neighborhood during the school year!

But during the summer, they are allowed to roam free. No fences. No leashes**. And no goddamn curfew. If there are curfew's, they certainly aren't enforced. Whatever happened to the concept of Summer School?? I want every single kid in the Highland Park neighborhood to be required to attend school year round. I'm taking it to the damn school board, I swear to god.

I guess I need to explain the reason for my rampage. This morning I was watering & feeding the dog when I looked out my kitchen window and discovered that someone had built a wall out of the brick pavers that were left over from the patio project, which we hadn't gotten around to moving into the fenced in area of the yard so they were chillin' on the side of the house, next to the sidewalk. They were totally on our property, not blocking anyone's way, these punk ass kids just decided to be complete a-holes and reek havoc for all the people in my neighborhood who have to get to Ford Parkway on their way to work. So I was out there, lugging these goddamn bricks back into the yard, steam coming out of my ears Popeye style, plotting the revenge on the skater punk ass kids in HP who hang out across the street at the gas station and smoke cigarettes and harass young girls.

We also had an incident a while back where a delivery from Eddie Bauer had been dropped off on our front stoop, only when I got home, it had been stolen.

So, while I hope to raise my own future Ivy Leaguers someday, I reserve the right to hate the little bastards for the moment.

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*Whoever's kids, I don't care, just start school again, please.

** Would it be wrong to impose the same restrictions on kids 16 and under as the city has on pets? If you take them in public, they must be on a leash that is a minimum of 6 feet long. 3 feet long if they own a skateboard. That sounds good to me.

The Terrorists Ruined My Family Reunion

Everyone, please commence feeling bad for Dean and Annette Carpenter. The Terrorists are depriving their poor Texan family of homemade jam.

At the entrances to security lines, agents announced the new restrictions and offered to take people's newly banned items and throw them out. Lip balm, mascara and skin creams and even muscle rub piled up in their hand-held trays. One man, told that, yes, mouthwash spray was now prohibited from the cabin, took four last sprays and tossed his canister into the agent's tray.

Just after 7 a.m., Dean and Annette Carpenter of Isanti, Minn., on their way to a family reunion in Corpus Christi, Tex., were forced to leave several jars of homemade jelly in their car.

"It's too bad," Dean Carpenter said. "It affects the whole event."

(See entire article here.)

Now, I fully understand the havoc that has overcome air travel in the United States. My husband flies upwards of 100,000 miles per year. I've had to dig lighters out of the bottomless-pit that I call My Handbag. I get it. But when my local newspaper finds it necessary to make homemade jelly a national tragedy, I struggle to find the right level of sympathy.

Closed circuit to Douchebag Carpenter (who not only had to throw away his precious jelly, but also had to dig through a number of trash cans looking for his wife's license because she was sure she threw it away with her lip gloss accidentally, only to discover that it was in his fucking pocket the whole time)....you know what, nevermind. I don't even have the energy to closed circuit him.

Save travels to everyone out there in the skies. God speed to whoever had to fly with the Jellyless Carpenter's.

Things That Suck

People tell me that I get irritated too easily. That in itself irritates me. Here's a list of things that suck because they irritate me.

(no particular order)

1. Packer fans
2. Sludge from KFan
3. Rock people who say hip-hop sucks
4. Hip-hop people that say rock sucks
5. Cat Stevens
6. Dusting
7. Being allergic to dust
8. Not having TIVO in my bedroom
9. Bars without good happy hour specials
10. Soccer moms in mini-vans
11. Terrell Owens
12. Brett Farve
13. Dart tournaments on TV
14. Roundabouts in the US
15. 25 MPH speedlimits
16. Decorated mailboxes
17. Anyone who parks right in front of my house
18. Anyone who parks right in front of my driveway
19. Skaters (sorry honey)
20. Being interrupted
21. Being told to be quiet
22. Being told "I could hear you laughing all the way down the hall." This makes me angry.
23. Dick Enrico, or whatever, from the 2nd Wind store
24. Erik The Bike Man
25. My job
26. Running out of underwear
27. Buying ice
28. Compromising
29. Dale on "King of the Hill"
30. Beer snobs
31. Skinny jeans and pumps. Why why WHY did this come back in style?
32. The Tour de France and the stupid guy who won. Until we found out he was doping. So sick of hearing about steriods.
33. Steriods
34. Barry Bonds
35. People who rip on me because I'm a Dave Matthews fan. GFY, I can like who I wanna like.
36. Door-to-door solicitors.
37. Door-to-door solicitors who actually give you dirty looks when you say you're not interested. Um, are you on MY property right now? Pretty sure you are. I can be interested in anything I damn well please and you're not one of them.
38. Email forwards
39. Listening to my voice mail
40. Coupons
41. The big fucking pile of dirt in my driveway.
42. How much it's going to cost me to have the big fucking pile of dirt removed. Yes, I know about Craig's List. I can't wait for Craig to get off his ass and pick up my dirt, goddammit.
43. People who say "oh I liked that band before they were big, now I won't listen to them anymore".
44. Everyone who posts on the Rube Chat webboard on Kfan.com.
45. Walking the dog.
46. That show My Super Sweet Sixteen or whatever, on Mtv. Those parents should have never been allowed to procreate.
47. Anytime Carrie Bradshaw runs in her high heels.
48. My neighbor's granddaughter. She doesn't really suck, I'm just getting really sick of her because she's over all the time. Now I know how my neighbors felt when I was little.
49. Humidity
50. Everyone who voted for W.

Batteries Not Included

St. Pauly Boy and I live in a cute little house in a cute little neighborhood of St. Paul. The interior of the house is small, but adorable. All of the woodwork is painted white, the walls have nice neutral colors that fit perfectly with our decor (with the exception of the extra bedroom which was the 3 year old's room for the previous owners & has hand painted chicks all over, which are nauseatingly cute but not exactly prime for SPB's office space). The only thing about the house that needed work was the back yard. So for the past year or so we've been hitting it hard in the back yard.* Last summer we tore out the entire yard, built a retaining wall, regraded the landscape, laid new sod, and built a cedar fence. Ok, someone else built the fence for us, but we did all the rest by hand. This summer's yard project was a brick patio. It took us 3 straight weeks and was officially completed this past Friday. For those of you who remember the last 3 weeks of weather we've been having in the TC's, you should fully comprehend was an assinine project this was to complete with 90% humidity and 102 degree hotness. But we did it. And we L.O.V.E. our new patio. There was no lack of drama during this project. Arguments, meltdowns, heat exhaustion, the sorest muscles ever, absolutely not one item of food in our refriderator, & a neglected doggers with much too much pent up energy. Would I say it was all worth it? No. If we had to do it over, someone else would have sweated their balls off and gotten paid in doing so. Our next place of residence will come with Patio Included. And batteries, if needed.












Behold! The newly build St. Pauly Family Spa.











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*Trust me, I wish I could say that statement was sexual in nature but given the traffic factor, sex in the back yard is pretty much impossible unless you're goal is to be the porn star of Highland Park.

National Day of Hangovers

National Night Out kicked my ass last night, you guys. I never knew that our block was full of a bunch of beer guzzling, chain smoking, insomniac geriatrics. The last thing I remember is sitting on my neighbors patio, in the pouring rain, hunkered down under the umbrella, wearing a white cardigan sweater with an embroidered cardinal on it that someone gave me to keep warm, bumming Benson & Hedges Ultra Light 100's off my 68 year old neighbor, Mary Ann, with her 12 year old grandaughter sitting on my lap. When we finally stumbled back to our own lot, it was 1am. ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. That's how late the geriatrics kept me out last night. And god only knows how many beers they made me drink, but I think I may have even agreed to get up with Mary Ann at 3am every day to pray the rosary. I'm not completely confident that I would have passed a breathalizer on my way to work today, or during my 8:30am meeting.

I never expected this. I never knew how insane my neighbors were. Now I know.

And I love them even more than I did before.

Open Letter to My Future Nephew (Not By Blood, But By Friendship), Pedro

Dear Pedro,

I saw your very first photo today! You look so cute in your mama's tummy! Ok, from the front you looked a little skeletal, but that's just because you haven't yet grown the big fat baby cheeks that I'm going to pinch until they turn rosey. But hey buddy, you got time, it's all good. Your mom said you were busy doing sommersalts during the photoshoot. You should be a gymnast. They have hot bodies. I'll teach you how to do a cartwheel as soon as you're born, k? Oh gosh, there's a lot of stuff I'm gonna teach you. Like how to bother Bailey Boo (hint: she doesn't like anything anywhere near her butt) and how to best ensure your photo gets up on the Fridge-of-Fame up at the cabin. That one will be easier for you than it was for me. Come to think of it...am I even up there?? And don't worry, I'll fill you in on everything that's been happening on the Real World/Road Rules Challenge. That Coral is one tough bitch. Oh, maybe I shouldn't teach you that word quite yet. But if you do say it, say it like this: beeeeeeyoootch. And then snap your fingers in a Z formation. All the other babies at day care are going to be so jealous of how cool you are.

Keep on keepin' on, Pedro! I'll write again soon!

XOXO,
Auntie St. Pauly Girl