Derby de Mayo!
Hey crew! It is currently thunder storming outside, which can only mean one thing: Minnesota Summer has arrived! In order to kick the whole thing off right, I placed a phone call to my well-connected, esteemed colleague and trusted tone bartenderliere, Dixie, for some helpful guidance in crafting a superior Derby Day Delicacy: The Mint Julep.
I've been told that Rockpolis is staunchly anti-Kentucky, let alone Kentucky Derby, but I swear to you that, compounded by unpredictable deluges, it is remarkably difficult to find mint leaves in the Polis on Derby day. After several false positives, EU and I struck leaf at the local Targhetto with just enough time to get back and watch the end of the Red Carpet Schmuluhu on the tuber. To pass the time, I concocted the beverages and the Blue Eyed Gopher's Cousin navigated the streets to my place. With my due diligence, the race went off without a hitch, but I can not say the same for the popularity of the seasonal spirit. They refused to drink it, the wimps. Instead they chose to rip a large hole in my pant leg and drag me to the mall.
After some delicates-flinging, I picked up some new pants. And a shirt. And went to use my Mug Club card. Things went downhill. We bombed, shot, and chugged our way around the cultural world and had some lovely margaritas, to boot. What are a few misplaced tortilla chips among friends? And a margarita down the back? Well, perhaps you should have been more careful. By the way, beware of Emily. She is an enabler. Just like my roommate in college who got us kicked out of our dorm section for convincing some idiots to drop a garbage bag full of water down 4 flights of stairs. She'll ruin you. She's cute, though.
Anyway, to celebrate the Independence of Mexico, our very close by neighbor, we hit the Bloco with a legendary crew. Some stuff happened. I almost Screeched Blake. Turns out that Blake is a lot bigger than Nips. Blah, blah, blah, Emily ruined my vacuum while cleaning up chips. Sucker. (Nice sucker?)
The events of the night were so extreme and involved so freaking many people (Every single one of whom was keenly interested in my Sunday morning health), that the atmosphere itself was rended in two. By morning, the aftermath wind was blowing so hard, it ripped down signs and scaffolding all over. It was pretty sweet and almost made me dream of living in a beach house while I was snagging my Z's.
And, by the way, I felt fine on Sunday. So forget you guys!
I've been told that Rockpolis is staunchly anti-Kentucky, let alone Kentucky Derby, but I swear to you that, compounded by unpredictable deluges, it is remarkably difficult to find mint leaves in the Polis on Derby day. After several false positives, EU and I struck leaf at the local Targhetto with just enough time to get back and watch the end of the Red Carpet Schmuluhu on the tuber. To pass the time, I concocted the beverages and the Blue Eyed Gopher's Cousin navigated the streets to my place. With my due diligence, the race went off without a hitch, but I can not say the same for the popularity of the seasonal spirit. They refused to drink it, the wimps. Instead they chose to rip a large hole in my pant leg and drag me to the mall.
After some delicates-flinging, I picked up some new pants. And a shirt. And went to use my Mug Club card. Things went downhill. We bombed, shot, and chugged our way around the cultural world and had some lovely margaritas, to boot. What are a few misplaced tortilla chips among friends? And a margarita down the back? Well, perhaps you should have been more careful. By the way, beware of Emily. She is an enabler. Just like my roommate in college who got us kicked out of our dorm section for convincing some idiots to drop a garbage bag full of water down 4 flights of stairs. She'll ruin you. She's cute, though.
Anyway, to celebrate the Independence of Mexico, our very close by neighbor, we hit the Bloco with a legendary crew. Some stuff happened. I almost Screeched Blake. Turns out that Blake is a lot bigger than Nips. Blah, blah, blah, Emily ruined my vacuum while cleaning up chips. Sucker. (Nice sucker?)
The events of the night were so extreme and involved so freaking many people (Every single one of whom was keenly interested in my Sunday morning health), that the atmosphere itself was rended in two. By morning, the aftermath wind was blowing so hard, it ripped down signs and scaffolding all over. It was pretty sweet and almost made me dream of living in a beach house while I was snagging my Z's.
Supersweet view of a University building project falling onto one of Minneapolis' busiest vias. Bwahaha.
And, by the way, I felt fine on Sunday. So forget you guys!
HEY EVERYBODY!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=rO3X3_kPzXc
Posted by
Emily |
12:17 AM
That's what you get for calling me a sucker. Even if I am a nice one.
Posted by
Emily |
12:17 AM