Minnesota Nice

Gyp, (myself) was doing laundry last night, and saw a pile of clean laundry sitting on the table. This is a common happening. There are only so many dryers, and people forget their stuff is in there, and the rest of us need to do laundry before break too. It is sort of an accepted, humbling annoyance. BUT. What set this particular mound apart was that someone had written the forgetful student a note, on a page torn out of a notebook. It read:
"Dear dryer user,
I'm sorry I had to be that person and take your stuff out of the dryer. Let's still be friends. Okay, good."
1. There is no way on earth the person knew whose stuff it was. Yet they are desirous that they have no hard feelings towards them.
2. This just personifies Minnesota Nice to me. Of course, at the U, there is more than a chance that they are NOT from Minnesota. We do rub off on people though.
3.I want to go to the witch hat tower. (capt'n....)


Signed, Gyp.

P.S. you should all read Keats. He made my empty-cafeteria breakfast this morning quite delightful.

Me Mug.

Here I am. Along with the hat I acquired today. It was five bucks. The lady asked me if I desired a bag. "No thank you" I replied, put the millinery on my head, and walked out feeling killer classy. It makes one feel quite gentlemanly. Later, I was walking down frat row behind some fellow with a snazzy sport coat. Just as I was beginning to think favorably of him, he strutted up the steps of a rather notorious frat. darn, thought i.
Signed, Gyp

Mug'd.

As the Brit has done, so have I.

The Capt'n.

Getting to know you.

Hey people. It's the Brit. Soooo...we (the three co-bloggers) wanted you to know what we looked like, so there's my mug. Fun, eh? Not as ugly as some, but definitely not Tyra. Cuz she's...yeah.

Solidarity.

So, the Gyp an the Capt'n are here with a couple other chums, chillin' in the inspirational Hard Times Cafe, this magical pit of art aficionados, bums, and urbanites. So, we're sitting the in back of the cafe, near the speakers, where loud indie/every music types but mainstream plays sporadically.

On this particular evening, one long selection of experimental industrial sounds blasted from the speakers behind us. It became more and more grinding and repetitive, until only one phrase kept playing over and over and over and over for a good solid 10-15 minutes. No joke. Grinding industrial is not to my taste anyway, but this was just bad. The four of us complained to each other for quite a while, hoping with all out might that the music klunking and scraping above our heads would someday relent. Broken record record record record record record...

Finally, the music came to a complete halt, as the guy behind the counter finally shut it off.

The cafe broke into enthusiastic applause, followed by foolish laughter, as we all realized that we weren't the only ones going crazy from the relentless audio oppression.

Gyp and myself decided that our cheerful living capacity would reach an all time high for a week or seven. It was amusement in it's most sublime form.

If y'like it than you should have put a lamp in it.

Tis Capt'n.

So, last night I was researching various fixtures and furniture pieces for a design project, and stumbled upon these beauties: the Jeeves and Wooster pendant light fixtures:

(the bowler derby being Jeeves, the top hat Wooster)

If you did not ever let yourself be informed of this, Jeeves and Wooster is an old British comedy that contained that Hugh Laurie fellow, and such peoples. I personally have never seen it, but Gyp has, and most likely the Brit has to, of course. But the funny end of it is that Gyp named her lil' MacBook Pro Jeeves a while back, and I decided to label my Pro Wooster after she informed me of this comedy.

And, whether or not you even have interest in British comedies, you cannot deny that these are some of the most glorious lighting devices known to modern man and woman and animal and geological formation.

End.

communication.

Whenever I sit in the Cube by Starbucks, two things happen. I fall asleep temporarily, because those chairs are seductive, and I quit doing homework and just listen/people watch. Here's the result(s).


communication.
Lovers talk in rippling whispers, ruffling hair, the sound of a kiss
Old friends talk with ease, personalities fitting like Legos
And customer communication....oh I'm tempted to write a book
Some treat you like a small beetle
Others are kind, remembering when they wore your shoes
And parents. Oh how many times have I wished
Slapping strangers in public was not taboo
In waitressing particularly
Some parents wait, hawkish, for a murmur of rebellion
Pouncing without mercy
Or they ignore, letting society do the job for them
Then complain if the kid doesn't come home for Christmas
Some parents
Like mine
Use their years to light the way. they delight in you.
And that is immeasurably important



Also, as I walked down to the bathroom in Coffman, I saw this fellow weaving all over the floor. He was drunk, naturally. Remember the sidewalk crack game? Well, he was playing it, and failing miserably. I chuckled all the way to the bathroom.


this was written to M. Ward's version of Rave On, on repeat.
Signed, Gyp