MTB

Last Friday night, after the post-it note incidence at the gym, I was ready to veg in front of the TV when I got a text from my friend, Nak, to go out to the Lounge.

Once in a while, I will be down for spontaneity and Nak caught me on a good night.

So I met him and his friends out.  It was a club with a front room and a large dance hall-type room behind the velvet curtains.

Nak told me that it was “Prince’s DJ” who was spinning that night.  I was immediately intrigued.  Who wouldn’t be?  But we were both curious as to what exactly being “Prince’s DJ” means.  I guess he throws parties and has this DJ spin there?  I wondered what other gigs are on this DJ’s resume.

Here’s “Prince’s DJ”:

I think I took this close to 11 and we thought that it was a little strange that it was so late (it’s Minneapolis) and the club was nearly empty.  That means that once it got bumpin’ peeps would only have a little over two hours of clubbing enjoyment.

Later as it did get more bumpin’, a dancer appeared in the cage.  Sorry, not cage.  Balcony.

I hate to say it but we were not impressed.  She did the same moves over and over again.  No variety and minimal sexiness.  I think I could do better, honestly.  And better yet, I bet Nak could do better, too.

It was nice to be able to go out dancing.  I’d been dying to go out and do that for a long time.  Then, I encountered one of my pet peeves:

As a proud heel wearer, this is a big no-no.  If you can’t hang with the Big Girls, don’t hang at all — leave the heels at home!

She needs to do some heel training.

I dragged my ass to the gym tonight to run a few miles and come back home to veg.

I have this thing about the gym.  If you are a man and we are working out at the same gym, do not talk to me.  Do not engage me in a conversation, do not attempt to pick me up.  I am at the gym to do one thing, and one thing only.  And that is to exercise and get the hayll outta there.  Not for a potential hook up.

I saw a man that I often see at the gym today.  He is older.  Perhaps >50, bald, and he wears bright blue spandex that are too short for any man to be wearing at the gym.  I see him there often and sometimes I will smile at him.  I mean, that’s natural, right?  Yes, in Minnesota it is!

But sometimes I get myself in trouble with men when I am too friendly and/or nice.  Believe me, I have learned the hard way many, many times.

So, I saw this man today while I was running and I smiled.

I ended my run and was walking around the track and I passed by him and he handed me this:

How sweet!

But I have some curiosities about this note.

Where did he get the post it from and when did he write it?  I mean, are these little notes something he carries around and hands out to people when he deems appropriate?  Did he write it at the gym?  Did he bring it from home?  So curious!

In any case — what do I do?  As you can see, he wrote his email at the bottom.

I am inclined to ignore the note, but I’ll def be seeing him at the gym in the near future.  I suppose email is harmless.  But what’s the natural next step after emailing?  Yeah, it’s to be FACEBOOK FRIENDS.  I’m not sure I want to be Facebook friends with him yet.

But, who knows??  Perhaps this is the end of my Sugar Daddy search??  (Even though he doesn’t seem to be “into” my gender.  Maybe he will introduce me to my future sugar daddy??)

Dude, are you nuts?!?!

If you  look closely at the guy down the sidewalk, you can see that he does not have a coat on.  It was 18 degrees outside and I watched him walk home from a local bar, which was 3-4 blocks away.

I don’t think I’d last 5 seconds outside without a coat.  Nutso.

Today, I’m excited to post because I had an eventful lunch hour and have some photos to share.

This morning at work, I got a phone call from KM, my twenty-something coworker with whom I am very friendly.  I have friends of all ages at work, the oldest being 63, with whom I will be watching the UM vs. MSU basketball game tomorrow night.

But, lately I’ve really been into the twenty somethings.  If I had to psychoanalyze myself, I suppose it has to do with a few things.  Perhaps it has to do with my continued need to be youthful.  Perhaps it has to do with where I am in my third career.  Perhaps it has to do with my major Peter Pan Syndrome.   Or maybe it has to do with my recent shoulder-length haircut that has been taking me back to my early 20’s, which was the last time I had hair this short.

I don’t know, but whatever it is, it is.

So, KM calls me at work — actually IMs me first, then asks me to if she can call me — which I thought was a little odd.  She calls me on my desk phone and she begins to tell me how her car got towed because of the snow emergency.

See, in the Twin Cities, there is something called a snow emergency.  When there is a snow emergency, you can not park on the streets that are designated as snow emergency routes.  That is because they plow these streets in a snow emergency.  We had a snow emergency declared on Sunday because of the “wintry mix” blizzard that arrived and persisted for maybe more than 24 hours?  Not sure how long.  All I know is that they really do tow your car if you’re parked on a snow emergency route and KM is proof of it.

KM proceeds to tell me that, over the weekend, by random chance she did not get a parking spot in the parking lot behind her apartment building so she parked on the street, which she thought was not a part of the snow emergency route.

Turns out, as of February 10, that street became a designated snow emergency street.  THAT IS THE DAY OF THE STORM AND DECLARATION OF SNOW EMERGENCY.  Aw man, just her luck!

Needless to say, KM’s car got towed.  So, she asked me to take her to the impound lot during lunch.  That is what the phone call was about as she was explaining to me in tears.

We get to the impound lot and as we were walking up this too-old-to-be-a-security-guard woman stops us and directs us to the spillover line area in the trailer next door.  I ask her a slew of questions about how long it will be, etc., and KM and I can’t take our eyes off her terrible, rotting teeth (I know KM couldn’t either because later in the line, KM says to me, “Did you see that woman’s teeth?”).  They were worn down almost to her gums and brown in the middle of each tooth, but the whole lower jaw of teeth were worn down in a semi-circle sort of fashion.  Completely fascinating, I almost wanted to touch them.

We get into the trailer and a terribly strong stench of piss, BO, and cigarette smoke hit us as we walked in the door.  Thankfully the line was only about 10 people long, but with such a strong stench like that you begin to wonder if you will start smelling like that too.  And when you leave, you’ll stink so bad, too, that you’ll have to explain that stench to your coworkers you sit next to at work.  Sort of like that permeating odor when you go to Korean BBQ, or that Subway sandwich bread smell.  But it was a horrific stench.  Mind-blowingly strong and bad and you knew everyone else smelled it too.  KM and I could not resist commenting on it.

KM wanted to leave.  She was convinced we wouldn’t get through the line within our lunch hour but my optimism convinced her we should stay and it wouldn’t take as long as she thought it would.

And apparently, this whole towing thing is pretty newsworthy business.  There was a news crew there and not only one, but after that one left, another one came!

I can’t help but chuckle at some of the news stories they have here.  Things are so hunky-dory, they have to find “incredible” things to report about — such as all the cars in the impound lot from the snow emergency.  Wow, that is amazing and incredible isn’t it?!?  (Please note my sarcasm — even though I have to admit there were a lot of people in the line.)

Within 7 minutes or so, KM and I made it to the main building and out of the piss-and-BO-ridden trailer.  The line was not so bad, but it had some amazing characters.  Take a look for yourself:

And apparently prices have not changed in over seven years!  What a steal!

As we were standing in line, KM turned to me and told me she didn’t feel well, which I attributed to the anxiety of the whole situation — poor girl.  But why don’t you feel well, KM?  I was having a grand old time!  Between the old lady security guard with rotting teeth, the stench of the trailer, and the incredible people-watching and eavesdropping in the line, I was SO happy to be there and not sitting at my desk staring at a computer.  KM actually told me I could leave her after we turned the bend of the line, but I wanted to stay!  I was savoring every moment of it.  VERY entertaining.

It was like an awesome adult field trip.  I’d never been to an impound lot before.

Let’s stay on the topic of men.  My favorite topic for good and bad things.

If it weren’t for college sports, 90% of the men at work would not know what to say or do with me.  Now, remember that I work at a Fortune 100 industrial manufacturing company.  So, that’s already 90% men and I’m talking about the awkward social skills of 90% of those that have a hard time looking me in the eyes.

Could not be farther on the spectrum from New York City.  In NYC, I’m used to daily cat-calls.  Multiple, daily cat-calls.  But, of course, I think that has a lot to do with the ever present Latino culture there.

Now, I’m not that well versed in college sports.  I follow what I can, know most of the rules, and act like I know who the players are.  Yeah, I do know some of them!

The other day, one big, old dude who I do not know passes by me and says, “How are those Wolves doing??”

I assume he means the WOLVERINES, so I respond and say, “Oh, man we lost a big game!”  Referring to the basketball loss to Indiana on Saturday.

“Yeah, that was a big game to lose, but what can you do?”  Then I ducked into the women’s restroom.

What can you do, indeed.

Later during the day, I met a director of another functional area who is based out of Michigan!  He immediately told me he liked my big block M flag in my cubicle.  Oh, thank God, someone who understands?

We get into a conversation about the fact that his two daughters are at the University of Michigan right now, how his wife and he are both alumni and as he talks he talks about the U of M and we both know what awesome school is is talking about.  (NOT the U of M around these here parts)

Today, I talked to lots of random men at work about the Wolverines incredible win on OSU last night.  I literally was jumping up and down last night.  So many men mentioned last night’s game.  I don’t even know a lot of them.  How do they know?  Just by walking by cubicle?  There goes my anonymity.

As this director walked away, he said, “Let me know if you need anything — especially you!”  As he pointed to me.

I said, “Go Blue!’

He didn’t hear me.