Edina: Where the wine flows like beer.

Another weeknight, another 3 bottles of wine between the two of us. Thankfully, we were eating a scrumptious pasta courtesy of Chris Carmichael, and we were not driving.

Today was another one of those days.

New Rule

On worknights,

Respectfully decline a third round of drinks after midnight. It may seem like a good idea at the time, but it's not. Also, if it's midnight, going to another bar is not a good idea either.

Despite my "high spirits" today, the 24 afternoon minute commute home took an eternity, and once I fell down, I couldn't get up, missing out on a pretty decent afternoon to be on my bike.

Red Bull

Red Bull is probably the best thing to happen to partiers.

I started partying at about 7pm on Friday, and was drunk straight through til about 3am Sunday morning.

Somehow, I woke up wide-eyed, clear minded, and sans hangover at 7am on Sunday.

Needless to say, this weekend was, as Barney from "How I met your mother" would put it-- LEGENDARY.

Thanks Red Bull!

it’s 9:30am, and I’m still drunk.

Mixing alcohol and emotion is, and always will be, a bad idea.

A few random notes from the weekend...

While having a nice evening run around the lakes, it's possible that all the chicks looking at you are attracted to you. It's even more possible that you have a ton of gnats stuck to your face.

The best part of my weekend was Wade and Erin testifying to my father that my hair is awesome. (My dad's straightfaced response: "Nope")

Note to all random gay men: I am no longer flattered by your come-ons, which have completely lost their novelty. Please cease and desist.

Isn't it ironic that Red Delicious apples are completely not delicious? To swap in some truth to their descriptive moniker, I would suggest tank-armor-peeled Red Grainy Blands. Seriously. They've got to be at least 50 peel by weight, and the inside of those damn things has the texture of couscous. Blech.

If you can't walk straight, it's completely unnecessary to buy a bottle of gin on offsale.

I learned this weekend that my Dad's cousin has a guest room in his house that I'm welcome to stay in at any time. He also has a pool. He also lives on Oahu.

In all the combinations and permutations that can be possibly made using all alcohol & mixers, Tequila and Tonic is perhaps the worst concoction that can possibly be made.

Golden Idea: A sweet trash TV reality show could center around the lives of security guards at wedding receptions. If you feel bad about your life, you definately wouldn't after witnessing the meaningless of their existence.

If you chip in for Pizza Patrol at a late night house party in Fargo, don't leave the kitchen until it shows up. If you do, your share will probably be eaten by some obese roadie for an 80's hair metal cover band crashing the party.

Hangovers

Hangovers for me start early in the morning when I wake up dehydrated. And while stumbling towards the sink, I usually decide in my half-consciousness that I don't want to be alive. You're so dehydrated that your knee and elbow joints actually creak like an old hardwood floor. On the way I might stop by at the bathroom to rid myself of the 6 martinis still slam dancing about in my bladder. I often ponder just how my body can change gin into gasoline, because that's what it feels like.

Back to bed as soon as possible after drinking the local aquifers dry, I usually pass out a second time. So fast that I'm out before my face meets pillow, and I collapse into a awkward position that will cause an arm to get cut off from circulation, and it will be completely numb & limp by the time I wake up again.

When I wake up with the alarm, I begin to believe that someone, perhaps Chuck Norris, spent the night repeatedly kicking me square in the forehead. This feeling usually transcends two very stiff cups of coffee. The saturation of alcohol on my breath makes me scan my memory of the night before to see if it contains me open mouth kissing a top-fuel dragster.

And the gas. Low in quantity but high in potency, I think it's possible that the secret ingredient in Herkimer's sweet potato fries is weapons grade plutonium. Mmmmmm.

After coffee number 4, I've burnt off most of the acute symptoms, but the glaze will stay for the rest of the day. This is where you almost feel normal, but your brain is fogged over like your windshield on a spring morning. You can sorta see where you're going, but everything is sort of fuzzy & distorted. This state of being is strange, because time can either move quickly or slowly. It moves slowly when you think of your bed. However, once you get back to your desk and stare wide eyed at your monitor, you watch time click off so fast that 30 minutes can pass in between eyeblinks. And a complete time travel experience can occur when your boss is giving you critical action items: complete sentences are lost into a space-time vortex. Yawns frequently outlast the amount of air in your lungs, which makes you kind of gag. The first four words in the sentences that come out of your mouth are usually the same as the last four words are the same as the first four words.

This surreal state makes any semblance of critical thinking nearly impossible, but it is very possible to be productive in this realm. In the course of a normal day, interruptions by incompetents is the greatest factor of not-getting-anything-done-ness, but all it takes is a split second stare with your vacant soulless eyes to send hellish fear into your interrupter. Even the people on the phone.

Driving home usually takes about 3 or 4 eternities. Everyone moron on the road is driving way too slow. or those motherfuckers are driving way too fast, cutting you off. I just want to get to my couch. Please?


I got a good hour nap in this afternoon before I had to drive back out to Chanhassen for my first Triathlon training class at Lifetime. We spun for 50 minutes, and then ran for another 30. I didn't feel too bad.

I still feel kinda crappy. I'm going to bed.

Lutsen

I shut my cell off and left the real world this weekend without telling anyone(except for the 9 guys with me) and went skiing in Lutsen.

I drank almost an entire liter of Tanqueray. I said lots of funny shit.
I got some pointers from a new friend who used to be on the US ski team.
I skiied really fucking fast.
I played lots of P&A
While encompassingly inebriated, I ran in a dead sprint in my boots and deftly jumped onto the tailgate of a moving pickup, stuck the landing, and made some new friends on the way to the bar.
I saw superior for the first time.
I looked at the double blacks, laughed, and "11"ed the whole way down them.
I skiied in the rain. For the first time.
I scared the living shit out of some snowboarders.
For the first time, I stopped in the middle of my beer and gave it to Brian because I was too drunk.
I got rejected by some subpar girls who drove from Illinois.
Two words. Hang. Time.

PS. I've added photos from my latest trips to my Flickr page

A near Perfect day

Yesterday was a work Holiday. I was paid without having to take vacation time.

My day:
Coffee & Baileys
*censored*
Lunch at Salut
-Summit Winter
-Blue Cheese Burger
REI
Watch Office Space
Starbucks
Get Wine
-Cabernet Savignon
-Pinot Nior
Watch High Society: Ski Movie 2
Jimmy Johns
Red Dragon
-Red Dragon Special
-Almond Delight
-Wonderous Punch
-3/4 Almond Delight
Trocaderos
-Tanqueray Martini
Amy's Apartment
-Cabernet
-Mac & Cheese
-Crackers & Cheese
-Water
-Water
-Water
-Water
-More Water
Wake up in Amy's roommate's bed, fully clothed, including my winter coat.
-No Hangover
The Egg & I
-Coffee
-Ice Water
-Blueberry Multigrain Pancakes
-Sunnyside Eggs with Tabasco

Endulgence & Consequence

I had a very interesting Tuesday. I started the day back home at the ND farm with a 4 mile non-stop run on the gravel road, and in doing so probably climbed a good 500 feet out of the river bottoms. I felt awesome. A little sore in the calves, but awesome.

I drove to Fargo and had a burger at Granite City(a Champps derivative) which immediately made me sick.

Then, I meet up with Trav at High Balls, and between the two of us, run up a $70 bill consisting of 3 hours at a pool table and Vanilla Stoli Cokes. Gargantuan-bartender-is-an-old-friend-freepouring-the-vodka Vanilla Stoli cokes. Who knows how many we actually drank, but might I remind you this was in Fargo, land of cheap alcohol. Then all of a sudden, I end up with Trav's co-worker dancing on my lap. Trav works at The Northern, we were at The Northern, and Trav thought we might get along well.

Well, I felt like a member of Motley Crue in that I (or Trav) wasn't paying for my generous boobie allowance, but I did pay toll in that she was talking my ear off about rural North Dakota cheerleading & female Army drill instructors, and chainsmoking Marlboros.


I woke up early in the morning Wednesday feeling like I had been out all night smoking, and it was the most revolting feeling I've had in the over two years since I quit for good. My inhaler was missing. I was incredibly dehydrated, and after I finished drinking the Red River down two feet and hopped back into bed, my little brother's alarm clock starts going off. Over & over, I have no idea how to turn the fucker off and in a fit of frustration pull the plug. The fucking thing did not die. I eventually shut off the thing by beating the buttons, which at the time appeared to be labelled in chinese, with my closed fist.

Breakfast at McDonalds was little consolation before driving back to the city on a gloomy day. We got back into the city only to be caught in roadwork traffic on 494.