Minneapolis Adventures

The other day as I was walking into work, I happened to look at my phone and noticed that I'd missed a call while driving. I listened to the voicemail, which was a bit fuzzy, but I could make out that it was a woman calling from some office in downtown Minneapolis asking about the delivery of some sandwiches. Since I would have hated for her whole office to not get lunch, I decided I should call her back and let her know she had the wrong number.

Me: "Hi, I'm just calling because someone from this number left me a voicemail about some sandwiches, and - "

Woman: "Yes, this is Joan, and I need those sandwiches by 11."

Me: "Well, the thing is, I was calling back to let you know that you have the wrong number. I'm sorry, but I can't help you, and I wanted to make sure - "

Joan: "I need those sandwiches by 11! You'll have them delivered by then."

Me: "I'm very sorry, but this is my personal cell number, and I'm afraid I can't help with any sandwiches."

Joan: "No, I need those sandwiches!"

Me: "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number. I don't work for a restaurant."

Joan: "No! I need those sandwiches delivered by 11."

Me: "I do not work for a restaurant, I'm afraid you have the wrong number."

Joan: "No, I have the correct number. It's 612-555-5555." [Which oddly enough was my cell number...]

Me: "I'm sorry, but this is my personal cell number. It does not belong to anyone affiliated with a restaurant. I'm sorry but I can't help you."

Joan: "Fine." [slams down the phone]

To this day, I'm both extremely puzzled and extremely entertained by the fact that she simply did not believe me when I said that she called the wrong number.

IrishTenor's friend NevadaSoprano (reading a banner hung on a sorority house): "Jesus Christ is Lord of the University of Minnesota."

IrishTenor: "I knew someone fucked up was running that shit!"

I love my survey methods class.

Question on a survey evaluating service at a hotel in New Orleans: "When you arrived to check in, were you greeted warmly?" (Yes/No)

Classmate: "What if 'greeted warmly' means something different in Minnesota from what it means in New Orleans? Did I get beads?"

Professor (as respondent): "Yes, I was flashed appropriately."

I was at a bar in Uptown on Friday night, and as I was weaving through the crowd, a creepy-looking Asian guy with glasses and a molestorstache pulled me aside, peered into my face, and asked me, "Are you Asian?"

Once upon a time, Arbusto introduced me to a certain coffee shop in St. Paul. Over time, it has degenerated from a laidback, pleasant place to study into an indie Twilight Zone. On a mild night, there might simply be a group of noisy and idealistic undergraduates. One night, while sitting in the back room, I kept hearing a strange noise coming from the front part of the coffee shop; it sounded like an unintentional Wookie imitation.

However, the strangest group by far to frequent this coffee shop is the gaggle of women who gather to knit, talk about dismembered pets, and randomly sing "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt."

Tonight, as I sit here trying to enjoy a cup of coffee and a chicken sandwich and focus on my stats project, the knitting group has convened at the next table and is talking loudly amongst themselves. Topics covered tonight have been LiveJournal, how none of them want kids (thank God, we've dodged a bullet), and how one of the women knows someone who BREASTFED A LITTER OF PUPPIES.

I decided I might need to leave and never return.

A friend pointed out that a human breastfeeding puppies is farfetched at best and is probably a physical impossibility.

However:

1. Apparently someone tried this.
2. These people associate with that person.
3. These people are in the same room as me.
4. I have now had the unfortunate image of a woman breastfeeding poodles seared into my brain.

I might need to leave and never return.

Zach, IrishTenor's big orange cat, lives only for his next meal. On most mornings, he will do his best to turn on the cute and con someone into giving him an extra breakfast. This morning was no exception. IrishTenor woke up an hour after I'd fed Zach and Thundercat, and Zach seized the opportunity to try for a second helping.

Zach: "Meow? Meow? Meow? Meow? Meow? ..."

IrishTenor: "SouthernCanadian, did you feed the cats already?"

Me: "Yes, an hour ago."

IrishTenor: "So Zach is lying to me."

Zach (hopefully, upon hearing his name): "Meow?"

Me: "Yes."

IrishTenor (to the cat): "Zach, that's a nice try, but you need to realize something. SouthernCanadian and I have a little thing in our relationship called communication, and she has communicated to me that you have already eaten. You're out of luck."

While talking about my adoption...

TheViolinist (to me): "So you don't know your 'real' parents?"

IrishTenor (interjecting, somewhat facetiously): "SouthernCanadian doesn't have parents."

TheViolinist: "So did the pelican bring you?"