There's Nothing Sexy About the Midwest

I arrived in Minneapolis on Friday. The Minnesota accent hit me like a frying pan on the flight from Detroit to the Twin Cities. There was a family of Minnesotans sitting next to me, all of them quite rotund, and they kept discussing some acquaintance of theirs called "Marge." There was some confusion, though, and it took some clearing up to make sure that they were all talking about the same person. "No, naht Mahrgaret, Mahrge." The father had a really big belly, and he was wearing a yellow Golden Gophers t-shirt that hugged it in a most snug manner. He also had on sweatpants. And he was reading a book called Marine Sniper.

Ultimately I learned that Minnesotans are a kindly people, often residing in traditional grass huts along the banks of their many beloved rivers and lakes. They subsist on fried cheese curds, indigenous berries, and regionally marketed beer (e.g., Grain Belt Premium). I came to love these people of our country's great Middle, but it would take time.

After landing and finding out that a cab to my hotel would cost around $35, I stopped at an airport information desk to ask where I could get some form of public transportation into the city. "I'm sahrry," said the older gentleman at the counter, "I can't really direct you there." Okay, no bus. Fine. However, the Information Man told me about a so-called Super Shuttle (SS), a van service that takes you into the city. I like things that are super as much as the next guy, so you can picture my excitement.

It turns out, though, that there is nothing super about this shuttle. First the driver ran out of gas and had to stop, extending the time that I would be forced to struggle for breath in the back of this airless van, rendition-style. It was still expensive, and instead of just getting a cab and paying an extra ten dollars, I sat in this cursed van for an hour while it dropped off all of the other passengers. Then, once this task was complete, the driver didn't know how to get to my hotel. I've never been to the city, and she was asking me how to get where we were going. Moral: splurge for the cab in lieu of the (not-so-) Super Shuttle.*

Minneapolis was very nice. We went to a place called Nye's Polonaise on Friday night that had live polka. It was a very strange display of hipster girls dancing with elderly Polish-American men to the enchanting airs of Ruth Allen and the World's Most Dangerous Polka Band (apparently featured on Comedy Central's Let's Bowl?). Minneapolis has good beer! Summit Extra Pale comes most highly recommended.

I went to the Metrodome twice to see the Twins play the Yankees. It's a pretty bad stadium, poorly lit and sad. I met a few Yankees fans from South Dakota who kept waiting for the Miller beer guy to come around. It always makes me smile to myself when someone is really adamant about having one shitty beer over another. "No, fuck Bud Light, Miller Light is soooo much better. Gahhhd, I wouldn't be caught dead drinking that piss-water from St. Louis." Well, these South Dakota guys only wanted Miller Light, and were so intent on this desire that they were willing to wait 45 minutes for the Miller Light guy to come around again. They came across as stolid, and I like to think that most older people from the Dakotas are reserved in a similar way. The one closer to me spoke solemnly of their trip the previous year to Yankee stadium. His companion sat beside him in a camouflaged hunter's hat nodding assent.

We went to St. Paul's Grand Old Day street fest on Sunday. It was grand in every sense of the word. We sat on a lawn drinking beer and watching people walk by. Some of Cait's co-workers had devised a game wherein any passersby identified as inappropriately clad were given the honor of a toast and subsequent drink. Cait and I had fried cheese curds from a cart, which are basically the less-sophisticated little brother of the mozzarella stick. Stix may be cooler, might have more street cred, but deep down inside, Curd is the better person. Basically it's unprocessed white cheddar cheese, breaded and deep-fried. I mean, heaven in one's mouth.

The highlight of the day was definitely the (U.N.L Drill & Dance Performing Arts) drumline that stormed down the street to mark the end of the street fair. Minnesota is very white, and it might well be that the 20-or-so drummers and dancers in this corps were actually the only black people in all of the Northstar State. Either way, they were phenomenal. I never understood why they made that Nick Cannon movie Drumline, but now I'm really anxious to see it. Netflix.

In all seriousness, the Twin Cities were great. I would definitely go back. They have great people, beer, and food, as well as a charming aesthetic and an excellent radio station.

Oh, in case anyone was wondering (and, given the deluge of comments that my last post prompted, I'm sure you all are), I did not get the TransPerfect job. The hunt continues.

*I found out upon traveling to the airport for my return flight that the St. Paul/MLPS Public Transport Service offers light rail service to and from the airport for a mere $1.50. Bitter.

Srsly Hai

Hey all, sorry that first post disappeared, I got in trouble IMMEDIATELY for mentioning my employer (who will now remain nameless) even though I've really come to be quite satisfied with my job. Dave can attest to the sudden nausea and self doubt that followed. But they're giving me more responsibility and it actually feels like I'm accomplishing things and improving the account.

My summer is mostly about earning money to support essentials in new york - essentials being a roof, some food (or coffee, whatever), and manicures. For reals I can't go bare-nailed it's too painful.

Alex is apartment searching now and I just make the executive decision at the end - there's something really heteronormative about our relationship...except it would require me being a man.

Cait and I are going to sign up a Brooklyn Kickball team sometime when we can figure out how. The name is the only thing we've decided on: get excited for The One Trick Boners

Nothing much is happening beyond that. Alex and I will be having a housewarming party once we have a house. I'm also organizing a Long Island Wine Tasting party for my 22nd birthday, yuppie fun to be had by all.

Do you hate me? I think I hate myself. My entire life is driven by the desire to make money and be comfortable. I don't have a boyfriend around, I work all day and then think about work all night (seriously like in the shower), my friends are in totally different situations. It's a little isolating.

I will, however, be fulfilling some yuppie pleasure by seeing Sex and the City on friday evening. This of course only topped by a potential trip to Princeton to drink with waspy friends. I'm all atwitter. How on earth was I ever part of the smelly party scene on campus?

Thacker's Miscellany

I'm at home for a bit in good ol' Hamilton, NJ before flying to Minneapolis for a visit with Cait and subsequently moving up to Park Slope sometime next week. I've basically been splitting my time between sitting on the couch, reading with my dad, and making excursions to Philadelphia and New York. I'm also looking for a job—I had a promising interview last week for a project coordinator position at this place, and I should know within the next few days whether or not they'd like to hire me.

Some (potentially) noteworthy occurrences and observations:

• My in-house interview with TransPerfect consisted of two parts. After a telephone interview with an HR woman called Cj [sic] last Monday, I went to their office at the top of a skyscraper in midtown on Wednesday morning. I spoke with Cj for about forty minutes, and it seemed to go really well. Normal protocol dictates that a lower-level management person then comes in to speak with Potential Hiree, but this lower-level management fellow was out-of-office at the Honolulu branch, so in parades Mark Peeler, VP of Global Production. It was kind of intimidating. ----->
  So you know when you're a kid and you go to the dentist? The dental hygienist comes in and actually does all of the work—polishes your teeth with that terrible device that you always try to avoid with your tongue, administers the Fluoride Rinse, delivers a sermon about the Virtues of Flossing—before the dentist, Dr. Cozzarin or whoever, waltzes in and flashes you a (damn, actually quite startlingly white) smile. He whips out his mirror-thing and gives your teeth the once-over, maybe asks you how Little League season is going and perhaps even calls you sport ("Heyyy, sport, how's it looking?"). "Alright," the dentist is then wont to say, "you're all set, bud." As quick as he came, he's gone again. This was the image I couldn't get out of my head throughout my interview, which was kind of unfortunately distracting. The HR woman was the hygienist, and ("Heyyy, sport") Mark Peeler would be the dentist. Despite my mind's insistence on this connection, the metaphor didn't really hold. The VP actually sat there and talked with me for a good thirty/forty minutes. Again, pretty intimidating, but I think it went well. Time will tell.
• I went to Philly this past weekend to visit Elliot Smith. Gerard and Phil came as well. On Friday night Elliot took us to a young professional bar in Manayunk, just outside of the city (Andy, have you ever been to Manayunk? It SUCKZZZZ). It was really terrifying. They had a band playing Panic at the Disco and Nickelback covers, and everyone had their going-out shirts on. People were like shouting along to the lyrics, the beer was very expensive, and I hated my life.
• On Saturday night we wanted to go sing karaoke in Rittenhouse Square. We were on our way there, had, in fact, almost made it, when Elliot hit seriously the biggest pothole I've ever seen. This thing could comfortably accommodate a grown man clenched in the fetal position at ~ 1' deep x 3' x 4'. Elliot got two flat tires on the driver's side. They were very, very flat tires. We got out of the car and just heard "SSSsssssssssss." Needless to say, we didn't make it to karaoke. Elliot got the car towed to a Firestone place near his house, and the next morning when the technician came out to take a look, his reaction was a slightly stunned "whoa."
  

Books, music, etc.

• Zeno's Conscience, Italo Svevo
• "The Arm" from Arm's Way by Islands
• Let It Be, The Replacements
• "Cigarettes and Coffee," Otis Redding
• "Photocopier," from Transparent Things by Fujiya & Miyagi

MPLS

dude, ok, everyone i work with is totally insane.
-about 6 of us (NARAL ladies) went out to a lesbian club on saturday night (< half of us are into women)
-they made me buy a round of shots and put it on my corporate card
-my friend candice got shitfaced, fell down, and then bit jenna (the woman i am living with) on the arm. we're not talking lovebite here; i'm talking jenna-now-has-a-huge-bruise bite
-when the club closed, we went to denny's with 2 bull dykes and candice kept calling the conversation "BORINGGG. LAMEEE. STUPIDDD"
-passed out at 5 am

also, i went to the sculpture garden and saw spoonbridge and cherry. will post pics as soon as i load them

yesterday i went to the mall of america, which is ridiculous but i bought a sick pair of nike dunks and went on one of the rollercoasters

i am excited for sam to come! my boss wants to double date; is that awkward?

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Ok, so maybe not. I did see Indiana Jones last night but I won't reveal any of the plot twists.

I have no job or job search to speak of... only future plans, which all involve grad school in some capacity. My first step towards these plans is GRE-prep i.e. taking PESL (pretentious english as a second language). I'll try to make words like "meretricious" and "soporific" part of my vernacular. Another part of this first step also involves more school, unfortunately. However, the upside is that I will be bunking with Mr. Sean Dalby. I'm sure seeing his smiley, jubiliant face every morning will make coffee unnecessary and will energize me enough to start my day fresh. My next post will deal with "Dalby-living" so stay tuned.

Summer loves, interests, and hatreds:
love: The Waves by Virginia Woolf
interest: Tom Waits' entire catalog. So far I've only digested "Closing Time" and "Rain Dogs"
hatred: gas prices/driving a mini-van. i paid $75 to fill my tank up yesterday.

Andy Beers's Job Search: A journal

DAY ONE: Today I completed my resume. I mean, I enjoy lists, and I enjoy myself --so when I combine those things, I should enjoy the result, right?

DAY THREE: Already sick of writing cover letters. But it’s about volume. It’s just statistics really. If I apply to fifty jobs, I’ll get at least one. My Mom says that I’m handsome and talented. Also I can jump really high. Actually, I’m going to add that to my resume right now.

DAY SIX: Having been home for a week, I am constantly reminded why my home life resembles that of the Costanza’s from Sienfeld. I NEED to get hired. I MUST leave home. Why have there been no callbacks? New plan: I’m including autographed face-shots with every application. In them I will be wearing a cowboy hat, a suit-vest, and a tie, but no shirt.

DAY SEVEN: OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE POOR AND ALONE BUT MAYBE WITH CATS EXCEPT I WOULD DISAPPOINT EVEN THEM.

DAY NINE: The light under my capslock key no longer functions. IS IT ON, OR OFF? WHO could tell at this point. The line between REGULAR, and capital letters has been blurred beyond recognition. THERE’S A METAPHOR TO BE HAD IN HERE SOMEWHERE, BUT I’M TO BUSY APPEARING ANGRY TO FIND IT.

DAY TEN: My parents are beginning to notice that I haven’t changed clothes for five days. Thanks to a combined concern over my continually unshaven face and an unwavering diet of long-expired “dunkaroos” packages, Mom has confronted me about “making good life decisions.” I smashed a lamp in response, and stormed into my room. As I lie here weeping on the floor, blogging out my life’s failures as if to banish them to the intenet, I realize that Post-Williamsburg life isn’t all that bad. Right?


I love you guys

I'M STUCK IN MINNESOTA

friends,
i write you from a lovely, quirky little coffee shop in minneapolis, mn called "caffetto," where i am drinking a latte and eating a pumpkin muffin. i arrived in minnesota sunday and started work yesterday. for those who don't know (which you all probably already do), i am the new field canvass director for NARAL in ny. and they wanted me to train out here in mn, where NARAL has an awesome, well-established canvass.
by the way, canvassing means door-to-door fundraising, basically. so i am that guy while i am in training. that guy who comes to your door, talks about abortion rights and asks for money.
yesterday, an old man who still had christmas lights on his house told me he "wouldn't donate to [me] if [i was] the last person on earth." he then proceeded to tell me he thought what i was doing was "horribly, horribly wrong and evil."
such is my job.
the ny branch rented me a car. it is a pt cruiser. so that is hilarious.
i'm staying with a wonderful pot-smoking single mother who is a phone canvasser and she is really, really awesome. on my first day she took me on a driving tour of the twin cities, which was really nice. her daughter is 2 and is a truly exceptional child. shes at the stage where she babbles a lot and talks incessantly, and she soaks up new words like a sponge. it's incredible. she is adorable.
in fact, everyone at work is sweet. its crazy because a bunch of the people i'm canvassing with here are coming back to ny with me for 1-2 months to continue my training. which is cool. i will have summer friendz!
all that in mind, i am under a colossal amount of pressure. by the time i leave here, i will theoretically out-rank everyone who is training me (except the mn canvass director, who will be my direct peer). what the hell! all of these people have been canvassing for NARAL for like 3 years, and here i am coming in as a trainee, a total canvass newbie who will soon be their boss. naturally, this makes me feel like my daily performances have to be perfect. i feel like i need to be regularly making canvass quota ($150/night) starting on my second day (today). i sort of feel like i need to be superhumanly awesome.
i keep thinking: why me? why did they pick me for this?
but i also keep thinking: someone must have thought i was qualified.
so i guess i am qualified.

time to sign off and go to work. mega job perk: dont have to work til 1:30 every day while im still canvassing. awesome.

farewell, lovers.

saludos

Hey friends!

Greetings from Pilar, Gran Buenos Aires, Argentina. I am sitting in my aunt and uncle's living room watching some argentine club soccer. very typical argentine sunday evening. I hope that you are all very well, I am dealing with some post-graduation stress/shock, and being abroad isn't helping much (but it's still pretty fun to be "home").

As for my future endeavors...I will be back in the States on June 6, and I'll be moving to DC on June 8. I'll be working at the National Museum of the American Indian as a volunteer intern for the time being. I'll be in the city (tenleytown, aka wayyyy northwest DC by embassy row and the national cathedral) until july or august, when I will hopefully be moving to woodley park/adams morgan. Hit me up if you're in the area!

much love,

Lucia

Two of our contributors in their nascent Blogger days. So tiny, the both of you.

Hail graduates!

Greetings, fellow characters.

I'm to be located in rustic and verdant Vienna-ish, Virginia, Somewhere within walking distance to a Burnt Umber Metro line stop, probably the Dunn-Loring/Merrifield stop. I've somehow convinced the company I've been hired by, CGI Federal, that they both very much need me, but do not need me until September, so I won't be moving into my living quarters until around July.

I look forward to sharing my experiences with all of you. Also, for the sake of my soon-to-be-terrible Japanese skills, I'm going to be "translating" all my posts into Japanese until I get too lazy to do so. (Not when I write the original post, afterwards at some point. I'll edit the post and put it below the original.)

Cheers!

NoVA signing in

Hey all, this is Dean Edwards, formerly dredwa of the W&M circuit. I'll be posting from the wonderful urban-suburban-yuppie haven of Northern Virginia this coming year as I embark on the giant quest of "please hire me." I'm focusing on journalism and seeking employment on a newspaper or publication staff as an editor or writer. At the very least, I'll be keeping you up-to-date on this front.

Then, of course, there's life, the not-for-profit, expensive side of post-collegiate life. On that talking point, I'm sure there will be plenty to share.

Till things start rolling, I am and will remain your humble and obedient friend-
Dean

the set-up

a brief set-up of this excellent new blog:

as of now, we have a mere 5 contributors.  this number will likely expand over time.  we are all super good friendz bff style.  who we are and where we will be post-williamsburg:

cait smith; brooklyn, ny

sam thacker; brooklyn, ny

lucia abramovich; washington, d.c. (and various latin american countries)

andy beers; philadelphia, pa (at least for the summer)

david mcclendon; williamsburg, va (at least for the summer.  so i guess technically he's not quite post-williamsburg yet, but rather post-william and mary)

so this is who you're dealing with.

just so you know.

also, we are the best.

just so you know.

Oh, hey there!

POST-WILLIAMSBURG:
A way to keep each other and our underclassmen friends abreast of our extra-William and Mary comings and goings.
This blog was conceived at the Green Leafe Cafe on the evening of 5/7/2k8 over some wine, 2 whiskey sours and a pitcher of Shock Top.


Seriously, i'm gonna write in this shit all the time.