The State Fair is here. It's a summer tradition that I love, because it captures the innocence of simple American pastimes: baking contests, animal size contests, produce size contests, carnival rides, and the most disgusting and fascinating food I eat all year. I believe that Minnesotans love food on a stick because it exemplifies two truly American qualities:
1. We worship at the feet of inventors, no matter how trivial their product. It shows good ol' fashioned ingenuity! It takes a good imagination to think of new types of food that can be eaten off a stick.
2. We will eat anything as long as it's deep-fried. And it takes deep frying to keep these food item stuck to their sticks.
Here is a list of the choices for food on sticks at this year's fair:
Bull Bites (blackened tenderloin tips with horseradish sauce) eww
macaroni and cheese on a stick This could be good, depending on the cheese?
chocolate chip cookies batter dipped, deep fried and served on-a-stick yum
cajun seasoned alligator sausage on-a-stick I would never do that off a stick
chicken on-a-stick too simple
hand dipped caramel apples on-a-stick I've had those...caramel apples are always on sticks!
Cheese on-a-stick I don't like plain cheese
Pork chops on-a-stick and I don't like pork
oriental lemon chicken on-a-stick interesting
cotton candy on-a-stick It's always on a stick! That's false promotion
corn dog on-a-stick ditto
Batter dipped, deep fried candy bars on-a-stick (Snickers, Milky Way, Three Musketeer) If they had 500 Grand, I would do it!
deep fried Oreo cookies I think I need to try it
chocolate covered bananas on-a-stick I did this last year
Eggs, ham, sausage, toast, sweet rolls, pancake wrapped around sausage on-a-stick blech!
Rocky road scones on-a-stick (caramel, chocolate, marshmallow) Yummy! I want this most. I love French Meadow bakery.
Batter dipped deep fried fruit on-a-stick Aww, that's sacreligious, to deep fry something healthy!
fried jalapeno pepper cheese on-a-stick yuck
Dixie wings on-a-stick Hmm...
Frozen key lime pie dipped in chocolate on-a-stick Last year. Not bad.
rueben on-a-stick I just want to see it
Tater tot hot dish on-a-stick with cream of mushroom dipping sauce Same
spaghetti and meat balls on-a-stick This too
Puff Daddy on a stick What is this? If it is Puff Daddy deep fried, I will eat it:)
Scotch Meatball on-a-stick These gross me out off a stick
Batter dipped deep fried hot dogs on-a-stick (6", 12", 18") Who needs a foot and a half of deep friend hot dog?
What would you like to try? I will be eating some of those foods, only because they're novelties and part of the overall fair experience. I will also take part in the tub-of-cookies eating next to the all-you-can-drink milk booth concept. My friends are so smart!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
When then whole world's listening, they've got nothing to say
Twice this week, I've tuned into interviews on TV. One of these programs was hyped by the media as a "must see," and the other I hyped up myself because, like it or not, he's the leader of my country and it feels like civic duty that I care what he says about the future of the world (something about which he's able to make definitive statements, inane as that is).
Twice this week, I turned off the TV in disgust, watching both these literal "characters" dig themselves into holes of absurdity. The first person interviewed was Paris Hilton. I, and Larry King, should have known better than to care. When asked why she wanted to do an interview with him, she responded that she considered Larry to be an "icon" and was "honored to be here." After 20 days in jail, her life still has no purpose but to just be places and get attention. She followed up her sycophantic statements about Larry to say that she hoped to share her story of her time in jail. That's when I yelled "I can't believe you're older than me!", threw a pillow at the TV, turned it off, and forced myself to look up the autobiography of Nelson Mandela online, because there were so much more important things I could have been doing with my time. And honestly, I'm only going to listen to the record of life behind bars if it means something to the person and to society as a whole. Paris, by her own doing, is officially just a vapid socialite; which, ironically, she was in the first place.
The second time I watched an interview, I expected better from the speaker. He has his pick of the best speech writers in the country, he went to Yale, and despite all previous failures- of which there have been many- I still have a naive hope that someday he'll pull out a truly eloquent, Blarian soundbite. It was not to be at his speech at the Naval Academy. George W. Bush was his usual folksy self, pointing at chart to answer a question about if we're safer, ("See, the line goes down, which means less violence"- imagine that with a Texas twang). Just when I thought I would be limited to mocking my commander in chief for another hour, to pass the time during breakfast, he said something so mockable, it was past my limit. The official name of the next phase of the "Save Iraq" (my words) strategy is "Operation Phantom Thunder" (his words). Hmm. That sounds like something that a 13-year-old comic book dork would suggest, tugging on Mr. Bush's suit jacket. "Hey Mr. President," he'd say, with some kind of lisp or tooth-gap whistle, "Why don't you call the plan to stop the violence in Iraq Operation Phantom Thunder, because, uh, them soldiers are gonna be quiet like a phantom, but at the same time, even though thunder makes noise, it's a cool word, and I want it. Pleeeeease?" I laughed at my president, appearing foolish again, which made me sad enough to mute the TV and type this. The idea of being proud of the thoughts and speeches of my president seems so vague now, yet in two years, so attainable.
Obvious lesson learned today: media attention has very little to do with global significance. If it did, there would be the 24-hour Save Africa network, Interviews with Iraqi children about their lives and fears on Good Morning America, a Wolf-Blitzer-led public grilling of oil tycoons about the real logic, if any, behind the high gas prices, and so on. If that were so, I would have no choice but to tune in.
And this article, by Maureen Dowd in the Wednesday New York Times, has reaffirmed by hope in the future of this country...maybe there are a few high school students who weren't merely taught to the President's standardized tests, but actually acquired some rationality and feelings of civic duty. Bravo.
Twice this week, I turned off the TV in disgust, watching both these literal "characters" dig themselves into holes of absurdity. The first person interviewed was Paris Hilton. I, and Larry King, should have known better than to care. When asked why she wanted to do an interview with him, she responded that she considered Larry to be an "icon" and was "honored to be here." After 20 days in jail, her life still has no purpose but to just be places and get attention. She followed up her sycophantic statements about Larry to say that she hoped to share her story of her time in jail. That's when I yelled "I can't believe you're older than me!", threw a pillow at the TV, turned it off, and forced myself to look up the autobiography of Nelson Mandela online, because there were so much more important things I could have been doing with my time. And honestly, I'm only going to listen to the record of life behind bars if it means something to the person and to society as a whole. Paris, by her own doing, is officially just a vapid socialite; which, ironically, she was in the first place.
The second time I watched an interview, I expected better from the speaker. He has his pick of the best speech writers in the country, he went to Yale, and despite all previous failures- of which there have been many- I still have a naive hope that someday he'll pull out a truly eloquent, Blarian soundbite. It was not to be at his speech at the Naval Academy. George W. Bush was his usual folksy self, pointing at chart to answer a question about if we're safer, ("See, the line goes down, which means less violence"- imagine that with a Texas twang). Just when I thought I would be limited to mocking my commander in chief for another hour, to pass the time during breakfast, he said something so mockable, it was past my limit. The official name of the next phase of the "Save Iraq" (my words) strategy is "Operation Phantom Thunder" (his words). Hmm. That sounds like something that a 13-year-old comic book dork would suggest, tugging on Mr. Bush's suit jacket. "Hey Mr. President," he'd say, with some kind of lisp or tooth-gap whistle, "Why don't you call the plan to stop the violence in Iraq Operation Phantom Thunder, because, uh, them soldiers are gonna be quiet like a phantom, but at the same time, even though thunder makes noise, it's a cool word, and I want it. Pleeeeease?" I laughed at my president, appearing foolish again, which made me sad enough to mute the TV and type this. The idea of being proud of the thoughts and speeches of my president seems so vague now, yet in two years, so attainable.
Obvious lesson learned today: media attention has very little to do with global significance. If it did, there would be the 24-hour Save Africa network, Interviews with Iraqi children about their lives and fears on Good Morning America, a Wolf-Blitzer-led public grilling of oil tycoons about the real logic, if any, behind the high gas prices, and so on. If that were so, I would have no choice but to tune in.
And this article, by Maureen Dowd in the Wednesday New York Times, has reaffirmed by hope in the future of this country...maybe there are a few high school students who weren't merely taught to the President's standardized tests, but actually acquired some rationality and feelings of civic duty. Bravo.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Trapped in the early '90's no more!
For the past 6 months, I have been living without an internet connection in my apartment. I made this ascetic choice for three reasons:
1. Isn't the interconnectedness of the world making us all farther apart? Why shouldn't I pick up the phone and call my friends, or, better yet, actually see them in person and "interface" when I can see their faces?
2. I'm lazy: I don't want to wait around for the internet installation person to come. That is four hours of my life I will never get back.
3. I'm che...frugal. I want to save money and wireless internet gets so expensive...I have to pay to rent a router and I don't even know what a router is. Plus, I have to deal with the stupidity that is an internet bill, and then call up the company and ask them what every billed item actually is, the whole process raising my blood pressure.
But, miraculously, after months of hopeful searching for the few square inches of air space where there might be a wireless signal without a WEP password that I could tap into, I stumbled upon one-purely by chance- this afternoon! The space is located in the southwest corner of my living room, on the least accessible side of my dining room table...but who cares? I can finally check my email without getting dressed in the morning, running to Caribou, and buying an overpriced latte. No more will I haul my laptop down four flights of stairs and play the game of chance that is trying to steal internet from a nearby cafe (who has pretty unreliable service, I can tell you). Never again, when pursestrings are tight, will I drive to Lunds late at night and use their wi-fi to check my bank balance in the car.
So, friends, feel free to email me all you want. Send me instant messages, too. This girl, and her laptop, are here to stay.
1. Isn't the interconnectedness of the world making us all farther apart? Why shouldn't I pick up the phone and call my friends, or, better yet, actually see them in person and "interface" when I can see their faces?
2. I'm lazy: I don't want to wait around for the internet installation person to come. That is four hours of my life I will never get back.
3. I'm che...frugal. I want to save money and wireless internet gets so expensive...I have to pay to rent a router and I don't even know what a router is. Plus, I have to deal with the stupidity that is an internet bill, and then call up the company and ask them what every billed item actually is, the whole process raising my blood pressure.
But, miraculously, after months of hopeful searching for the few square inches of air space where there might be a wireless signal without a WEP password that I could tap into, I stumbled upon one-purely by chance- this afternoon! The space is located in the southwest corner of my living room, on the least accessible side of my dining room table...but who cares? I can finally check my email without getting dressed in the morning, running to Caribou, and buying an overpriced latte. No more will I haul my laptop down four flights of stairs and play the game of chance that is trying to steal internet from a nearby cafe (who has pretty unreliable service, I can tell you). Never again, when pursestrings are tight, will I drive to Lunds late at night and use their wi-fi to check my bank balance in the car.
So, friends, feel free to email me all you want. Send me instant messages, too. This girl, and her laptop, are here to stay.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
What I learned about copyright laws today
I posted a short article today, which had been written as the first assignment for my writing course at the Loft. However, I found out at class this evening that posting an article on a blog is considered publication, in which case I might not be able to publish my little story again, and that would make me sad. I might even cry. So I had to take it down. If you'd like to read it, I could make you a copy, or maybe someday I'll be able to cut it out of a magazine.
I posted a short article today, which had been written as the first assignment for my writing course at the Loft. However, I found out at class this evening that posting an article on a blog is considered publication, in which case I might not be able to publish my little story again, and that would make me sad. I might even cry. So I had to take it down. If you'd like to read it, I could make you a copy, or maybe someday I'll be able to cut it out of a magazine.
Opus Dei of the Midwest -or- sweet old men who like to dress up?
Have you ever wondered what mysteries (if any) are contained within the walls of the Scottish Rite building, located in Uptown on the corner of Dupont and Franklin? I walk by there weekly on my constitutional to check out new arrivals at Patina, and always stop and stare, pondering the correlation between religious symbology and the tenets of the Masonic orders. Are there members that live in Uptown? Is that wacky old man on the bicycle who almost hits me every day one of them? And how is the Scottish Rite adapting to the technology of modern day architecture and masonry...I mean, is cutting stone by hand (with a hammer, hopefully) really a "craft" anymore? Hasn't that been outsourced to robots? And if so, does it still make sense to dress up in robes and burn stuff together?
Alright, so above are displayed my questions about the building, the order, and the fashion. I might pitch some kind of story about them to a local magazine, but my question for you (I'm assuming there's only one of you right now) is what do you wonder about the Scottish Rite?
*After much research, of which none was hard to come by (apparently the Scottish Rite has determined it proactive to have almost all information about its inter-workings on the internet- and to present it in the most boring way possible so that a researcher will pass out from the exhaustion of trying to find a story), I'm still looking for an angle. It seems like the Scottish Rite is just a "fraternity" for men who need a sense of community and service (and who like to dress up in "full costume" as the Minneapolis division's website promises prospective members). Is it really just a bunch of nice, unassuming men who don't find a productive outlet in non-masonic social interactions? More than that, I think: it's like where boy scouts go when the uniform gets too tight. They trade badges for a cute, quasi-shriner-esque chapeau, and then practice ceremonies "with full scenery" (another promise to prospective knights). Hrrumph. I just spent three hours reading about this, and I'm bored now, so I'm going to stop. I will find my angle, though! I am determined, like the Scottish Rite Creed declares, to advance the cause of "human progress!" Whatever that means.
Have you ever wondered what mysteries (if any) are contained within the walls of the Scottish Rite building, located in Uptown on the corner of Dupont and Franklin? I walk by there weekly on my constitutional to check out new arrivals at Patina, and always stop and stare, pondering the correlation between religious symbology and the tenets of the Masonic orders. Are there members that live in Uptown? Is that wacky old man on the bicycle who almost hits me every day one of them? And how is the Scottish Rite adapting to the technology of modern day architecture and masonry...I mean, is cutting stone by hand (with a hammer, hopefully) really a "craft" anymore? Hasn't that been outsourced to robots? And if so, does it still make sense to dress up in robes and burn stuff together?
Alright, so above are displayed my questions about the building, the order, and the fashion. I might pitch some kind of story about them to a local magazine, but my question for you (I'm assuming there's only one of you right now) is what do you wonder about the Scottish Rite?
*After much research, of which none was hard to come by (apparently the Scottish Rite has determined it proactive to have almost all information about its inter-workings on the internet- and to present it in the most boring way possible so that a researcher will pass out from the exhaustion of trying to find a story), I'm still looking for an angle. It seems like the Scottish Rite is just a "fraternity" for men who need a sense of community and service (and who like to dress up in "full costume" as the Minneapolis division's website promises prospective members). Is it really just a bunch of nice, unassuming men who don't find a productive outlet in non-masonic social interactions? More than that, I think: it's like where boy scouts go when the uniform gets too tight. They trade badges for a cute, quasi-shriner-esque chapeau, and then practice ceremonies "with full scenery" (another promise to prospective knights). Hrrumph. I just spent three hours reading about this, and I'm bored now, so I'm going to stop. I will find my angle, though! I am determined, like the Scottish Rite Creed declares, to advance the cause of "human progress!" Whatever that means.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Inaugural Post:
What to do with these candidates?
Discussions about leaders often, eventually and without intent, whittle down to a debate over personality. For example, I debate the merits and failing of No Child Left Behind on a weekly basis, and always manage to end up agreeing with my opponent on one point: yes, I say, George W. Bush does seem like a nice man. He reminds me of my grandpa. Which doesn't in any way imply that I'd like my grandpa, who once mistook the flu for being open and almost asphyxiated my entire family, to be in the most powerful position in the world. I mean that George seems funny, unassuming, genial...well, to sum it up, I think he'd be fun at a barbeque. He definitely looks like a man who has grilled ribs in his day down on the ranch. While our little party of guests digs into the Texan cuisine, I can imagine him regaling us with an oral history of his life, amusing anecdotes about the Skull and Bones society no doubt, when Laura helped him sober up (a heart-warmer), and tales of the girls before they were sneaking into subterfuge. It would be enjoyable, and I wouldn't fear, in that moment, that people were being killed by soldiers in the name of my country or that my civil liberties were being stripped away, lending all the more sweetness to the event.
After watching the Democratic nominee debates yesterday, I began to think about my initial impressions of these 9 people, and what they would be like, or what political persona they would assume, once in office. Here, then, is a list of what I would want to do with each Democratic party candidate:
1. Senator Mike Gravel- (aka "very old man" until I looked up his name)- I would like to play bingo with him.
2. Chris Dodd (aka "old man" until I finally remembered his name)- I would like to...well, no, I don't know about him, since I can't remember what he said or what he looks like. That bodes very well for his campaign.
3. John Edwards- I would bake him a pie while he talks. About anything. Then I would scoop some ice cream on it and watch him eat. I feel like he's the most presidential in manner and appearance, which inspires revolution-like prurience and subservient behavior in me. Well, perhaps not too prurient...he doesn't look a day over 35.
4. Hilary Clinton- I would like to have a career counseling session with her: my job's not satisfying, but she obviously knows how to parlay ambition into success.
5. Barack Obama- I would play basketball with him. Granted, I have no proficiency at any sport that requires hand-eye coordination, but I have a feeling he would be supportive, providing guidance throughout. Plus, he's an amazing pick-up player, according to the New York Times. **The NYT article was a very long and elaborate look at his basketball skills. My first idea was to play chess with him, but it maybe he would be offended, since "everyone" knows he's a talented pick-up player.
6. Bill Richardson- Whenever I see him, I want to pass an evening of s'mores-making with him! For my brother, he inspires visions of "tanning leather."
7. Dennis Kucinich- I want him to have a sense of humor about something. Plus, he's the right height. Together, we could paint our faces purple, put on overalls, and sing the oompa loopa song. I'm afraid, though, that he wouldn't be able to take a joke.
I'm going to miss the debate tonight...my first writing course at the loft begins at 6pm. Please comment: What would you do with the Republican candidates? (Nothing dirty, please).
What to do with these candidates?
Discussions about leaders often, eventually and without intent, whittle down to a debate over personality. For example, I debate the merits and failing of No Child Left Behind on a weekly basis, and always manage to end up agreeing with my opponent on one point: yes, I say, George W. Bush does seem like a nice man. He reminds me of my grandpa. Which doesn't in any way imply that I'd like my grandpa, who once mistook the flu for being open and almost asphyxiated my entire family, to be in the most powerful position in the world. I mean that George seems funny, unassuming, genial...well, to sum it up, I think he'd be fun at a barbeque. He definitely looks like a man who has grilled ribs in his day down on the ranch. While our little party of guests digs into the Texan cuisine, I can imagine him regaling us with an oral history of his life, amusing anecdotes about the Skull and Bones society no doubt, when Laura helped him sober up (a heart-warmer), and tales of the girls before they were sneaking into subterfuge. It would be enjoyable, and I wouldn't fear, in that moment, that people were being killed by soldiers in the name of my country or that my civil liberties were being stripped away, lending all the more sweetness to the event.
After watching the Democratic nominee debates yesterday, I began to think about my initial impressions of these 9 people, and what they would be like, or what political persona they would assume, once in office. Here, then, is a list of what I would want to do with each Democratic party candidate:
1. Senator Mike Gravel- (aka "very old man" until I looked up his name)- I would like to play bingo with him.
2. Chris Dodd (aka "old man" until I finally remembered his name)- I would like to...well, no, I don't know about him, since I can't remember what he said or what he looks like. That bodes very well for his campaign.
3. John Edwards- I would bake him a pie while he talks. About anything. Then I would scoop some ice cream on it and watch him eat. I feel like he's the most presidential in manner and appearance, which inspires revolution-like prurience and subservient behavior in me. Well, perhaps not too prurient...he doesn't look a day over 35.
4. Hilary Clinton- I would like to have a career counseling session with her: my job's not satisfying, but she obviously knows how to parlay ambition into success.
5. Barack Obama- I would play basketball with him. Granted, I have no proficiency at any sport that requires hand-eye coordination, but I have a feeling he would be supportive, providing guidance throughout. Plus, he's an amazing pick-up player, according to the New York Times. **The NYT article was a very long and elaborate look at his basketball skills. My first idea was to play chess with him, but it maybe he would be offended, since "everyone" knows he's a talented pick-up player.
6. Bill Richardson- Whenever I see him, I want to pass an evening of s'mores-making with him! For my brother, he inspires visions of "tanning leather."
7. Dennis Kucinich- I want him to have a sense of humor about something. Plus, he's the right height. Together, we could paint our faces purple, put on overalls, and sing the oompa loopa song. I'm afraid, though, that he wouldn't be able to take a joke.
I'm going to miss the debate tonight...my first writing course at the loft begins at 6pm. Please comment: What would you do with the Republican candidates? (Nothing dirty, please).
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