Who’s with me?

SNOW HAS SETTLED IN ONCE AGAIN, leaving me grounded at home all afternoon. Not to say that I didn’t enjoy spending time with my mom (no work) and brother (no school), ambling around the house in our pajamas—it was fun for a half hour, until I began feeling like a caged animal.

I was reading the Minot Daily this morning (I know) and was drawn to the headline Lawmaker says N.D. governor needs new house. I don’t usually read things like this, but for the sake of hindering myself from banging my head against the wall out of boredom, I decided to scan the article. 

As a master of macaroni and cheese eating and connoisseur of key commands, I understand that I am in no position to scrutinize the governor’s “mansion.” I mean what, I live in an apartment on campus. This makes me about as square as a watermelon. But Jim Kasper is reppin’, entitling him to say things I am not qualified to! Jim, could you raise your hand for all the people to see? There he is, folks, a Rep. from Fargo. 

I don’t know what ticked me off more about this article, Kasper painting the governor’s mansion as a stable for lawn knomes or his tenacious snubbing of Hoeven’s stable insistence that “the facility that we have is fine.”

This Kasper guy seems to be a big, whiney dude. What is it to him, that Govna H. have a new pad? So what if he went to a party there once and didn’t see any curb appeal in the property, I bet the get-together was classy as hell and he had a sensational evening at worst. He probably got buzzed on delicately aged wine and Lancashire cheese, then talked about important figures and his first-name basis with them (“So George calls me up and says…”). I would like this Kasper man to see where I’ve partied. Run down holes with sketchy couches and posters of Cosmo Kramer for decor, and the guest likenesses of Ron Diaz and Natty Ice. Sure, I didn’t like the places—at their hazard level, drinks might as well have been mixed with bleach—but I didn’t crawl to the pot of gold at the end of North Dakota’s $1B rainbow. “STUDENT SAYS MOORHEAD NEEDS NEW PARTY HOUSES,” the headline would read. “STAT.”

This argument is ludicrous at best, and terrible at worst. 

In conclusion, my paraphrasing of the article in a conversation between Kasper and Hoeven:

K: YO GOV’NA you’s gotta git yo’self a new CRIB. Yo’s house is UG-LAY.
H: The facility I have is just fine, yo. Git’ gone.
K: Aww naw naw! You da leada of da great state’a No’ DAKOTA, fool! We’z got da surplus up da YING YING! Can’t have no stank! Spend, ma brotha—SPEND!
H: When we’ve needed to make improvements to it, we’ve raised the money privately, Dawg. Chill.
K: Aww c’mon drop them 3M’s and hook a gov’na UP! I know you gots expensive taste.
H: And I knows you’s annoying as $%@!
K: Thinka’bout the statement ya’all’s making, brotha. 

My only question is, with a surplus of $1B, why doesn’t someone propose 635,000 iPhones?

Discuss.

Hip-Hip HAPPITY BLOGGO-VERSARY DAY!

TODAY marks ONE YEAR of APPROXIMATELYES!

There is definitely a celebration in progress right now. I am actually stuffing my face with packing peanuts and licorice. It’s out of control. 
Here are a few snaps from earlier this morning:
Shit yeah! I am the QUEEN! Approximatelyes getting down with the cake, staying fly!
The party goods, minus the keg (on it’s way!!!!), Jell-O shots (in the fridge!!), and Grandma’s fruit soup (a HIT!!! *yOu Go GrAnDmA!!*)
And of course, what *PaRtY~ is complete without…
Polished. Pristine. And totally ready for tonight’s PLaY*!
APPROXIMATELYES is 1 !!!!!
pARtY oN!!!

Good New Year and a Happy Morning!

This is the list of my 2008 New Years’ Resolutions.

Green = actual achievement. 
Blue = semi-achievement
Red = failed achievements (In other words, these transfer directly to 2009’s resolutions)

1. Be on time more; fashionably late is becoming considerably overrated.
2. Call people back. Oh, and call people.
3. Be more of the person I envision myself being.
4. Write more. Discover new words. Apply them.
5. Wear my hair wild. Care less.
6. Paint my nails more.
7. Try a banana at least once.
8. WATCH. MORE. MOVIES. [Sorry, but I’m tired of feeling really lame every time someone asks me, “Have you seen [insert sweet movie title here],” and before they even finish the inquiry, I am already responding “No.”]
9. Learn to cook. 
10. Bring cease to my over-packing habit (my biggest downfall as a traveler).
11. Step outside my comfort zone, e.g. talk to boys — excuse me, men.
12. Give country music a chance. (That was a joke. However, for the record: Garth Brooks is an exception).
13. Devise a new way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
14. Develop my “seafood” taste buds. Proceed to take a liking to shrimp.

15. Visit another continent
16. And the bottom of the ocean

17. And the moon
18. Try not to get arrested so much [this one might prove to be difficult].

19. Rediscover the meaning of life. Write it down this time.
20. Learn to play the banjo, or at least make it look convincing that I know what I’m doing.
21. Get in touch with my Eureeka’s Castle and Rainbow Brite roots.
22. Work out. In pearls.

23. Understand football. Pick a team. Go crazy.
24. Support lemonade stands. Guzzle down that 25 cent glass of warm, watery sugar with lo
ve.
25. Be ultra thrifty. Spend less, conserve more. 
26. Wear colorful tights. Because they’re ridiculous, and I can.
27. Convince someone — anyone — that I’m older than fifteen.

28. Master every “Easy” song on RockBand. 
29. Do my laundry before it develops appendages and contacts social services for negligence. 
30. Floss — constantly.
31. Go green!

32. Learn to be awesome, without actually having to be awesome.
33. Find a dance partner, one who is not afraid to get a little wild.
34. Convince someone to quit smoking.

35. Dress up. All of the time, without any reason. It confuses people.
36. Simplify. Simplify. Simplify.
37. Become a little less nocturnal, a little more normal.
38. Quit parking in the fire lane. It’s a pricey space.
39. Save whales.
40. And rainforests

41. And pop tabs for the Ronald McDonald House.
42. Let those that I admire, know that I admire them. 
43. Send more snail mail (with hopes that I will receive more : ) )
44. Learn to give great massages. Woo people with my great massages. 
45. Remain soda-free! (But dangit if I don’t miss Diet Coke like hell!)
46. Fit into my prom dress as well as I used to. Just to say I can.
47. Touch an ocean. 
48. Rekindle a friendship. 
49. Feel no shame for who I am.
50. Never. Look. Back.


Whoa. I’ve got a lot of work to do.

Five Years

This is my grandpa. He’s young and he’s brilliant, he’s a family man, he’s funny.
This is my grandpa! He’s energetic and outgoing, he’s skillful, he’s stunning.
This — this is my grandpa! He’s witty and brave, he’s respectable, he’s loving.
My Grandpa Ed is my role model and influence. Lou Gehrig’s took him from the world five years ago today.
This man means so, so much to me!
In memory of E.C. Leonard, and all of his wonderful ways —
29 May 35 / 27 Dec 03

The Imperial March of the Eve of Christmas

(Note: For heightened suspense, read this while listening to the Imperial March.)
IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE AND I’M HOLED UP IN MY ROOM avoiding my father, who will inevitably approach me with cash and a needy plea to buy my mother’s Christmas gift. It happens every year like clockwork — the afternoon of the Eve, Dan’s Doom will play as my father corners me in some fateful cranny, followed by the heavy breathing, the glances over his shoulders, the slow, painful whispers, [breathing] “Here…go… find…your mom…something,” [more breathing] and concluded with the transfer of a cash wad from patriarch to his last hope: me.
My mother gave birth to me nearly 21 years ago, and I’ve been frolicking through life with her ever since. But not one of my 21 years have I spent being married to her, had children with her, been her Romeo or claimed the role of minivan commander in chief. I merely came from her womb, a situation that lends me no special mastery over 27+ years of matrimony — just…really curly hair and short stature.
(There is a sudden pause, and my father walks into my room, loudly snacking on a handful of Christmas cookies. A small bead of sweat lingers near my brow, as I fear the inevitable.)

“I got…some…stuff…I need you to…wrap.”
(He pulls items from several bags, displaying the bevy of goods before me. He drops his Christmas cookie on the floor, and the dog runs for it.)

“SHOOT.”
The inevitable has been overcome, I can come out of hiding now!
Merry Christmas Eve, All!