Tag Archives: wtf

Busty seeks Viking Dave

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Judd and I went to Davanni’s last night. Davanni’s is a pizzeria in Uptown Minneapolis.

We walk into Davanni’s and there is a busty, middle-aged woman (with inadequate bra support!) standing in front of the ordering counter, near the door.

Busty looks upset and a little crazy, so of course she comes up and talks to us:

Busty: “Where’s Dave?”
Judd: “Who?”
Me: “We don’t know Dave.”
Busty: “Dave! Dave! Football Dave! Viking Dave!”
Judd: “We don’t know Dave…”
Busty: “DAVE GUNDERSON!”
Me: “We don’t know Dave Gunderson.”
Busty: “You haven’t seen him?”
Me: “No.”
Busty: “Dave!”
Me: “Um, no.”
Busty: “Viking Dave!”
Me: “Um, still no. Don’t know him. Haven’t seen him.”

Busty storms out of the restaurant, and then comes back.

Busty: “Well if you see Dave Gunderson and if you see me… you will tell me won’t you?”
Judd: “…um…what?”
Me: “Yes.”

She exits again, comes back.

Busty: “AND YOU TELL HIM THAT IT’S MY BIRTHDAY AND I AM AN ARIES!”

Busty exits. The pizzeria workers are amused:

Pizzeria Guy #1: “That woman has lost her mind.”
Pizzeria Guy #2: “What did she say to you?”
Me: “That if we saw Viking Dave, to tell him that it’s her birthday and that she’s an Aries.”
Pizzeria Guy #2: “She told you she was an Aries?!”
Me: “Uh…yeah?”
Pizzeria Guy #2: She told us she was a Pisces!”
Pizzeria Guy #1: “Hm. No, if she was born today she’d be an Aries…”
Pizzeria Guy #3: “Uh…okay, we are freaking the customers out now… what would you guys like?”


Note: Apparently Viking Dave is a local football fan… we never found out who Busty was. Wife? Stood up date?

The sweaty pedestrian

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I sleep with my window open.

I want to say this has something to do with “enjoying the Minnesota summer” but the truth is that my bedroom window has been stuck open for a few months and I’m too lazy to call the maintenance people.

Last night I regretted not getting that stupid window fixed because around 2am someone started shooting.

I live in one of those “just outside of downtown” neighborhoods where the distant sound of gunfire isn’t unusual, or a cause for concern. The problem with last night’s pops-in-the-night was that they were close enough to the building to freak out the dog, so I had an inconsolable bullmastiff to keep me awake for another hour or so.

So this morning I was exhausted, but I decided to bike to work anyway.

The bike ride to work is 20 sweaty miles in the name of fitness, up hill, each way.

On the way back, I had just crossed the Mendota Bridge when my rear tire deflated. A nail changed me from “hardcore biker guy” to “awkwardly sweaty pedestrian.”

The tire was completely loud and flat by the time I found a bike rack. I left the bike in the park bike rack and then walked to the train station to learn that it was closed for construction.

So I hiked about a mile through a set of cherry-pie neighborhoods1 to the next train station. I then tried to ignore the glares from the high school girls who clearly thought I was too stinky and sweaty to be on the train.

I felt like leering at them and asking for change, but I just mopped the sweat from my face and stared awkwardly at my bag.

The walk from the final station was another two miles, so by the time I was a few blocks away from my apartment building I was done. I was so tired that I was just offended by my own exhaustion.

So of course it started sprinkling.

I shook my fist in the air and muttered “Don’t you DARE!” and then got  embarrassed that I had actually threatened the sky.

Obviously, a few screws came loose on the Jansen train.

But my crazy threat to the sky worked, and the sprinkles stopped.2

After cleaning up and walking the dog, I drove to the park to pick up the bicycle. My bicycle usually doesn’t fit in my car, but the tire was so deflated that it gave me the few inches I needed to squeeze the bike in my back seat.

The bike is still in the car. I’m waiting for the rain to stop before I drag it upstairs.

It’s been storming for a few hours, and Harley is appreciating the thunder as much he appreciated last nights gunshots…excuse me while I coddle a 100lb dog.

1 Shutters, sprinklers, geese, ponds, picket fences, Americana goodness.
2 You can call me Rick James.

The Graces

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I left work late, so the only street parking was a few blocks away.

When I got out of my car I noticed someone peering from the dirty white car across the street – it was Terry, the toothless man who sleeps in his car.

I nodded politely but Terry just kept giving me this blank-yet-rabid-stare. I could sense his eyes following me as I walked down the block…ugh.

After getting home and walking the dog, I realize that I left my laptop in my car. I decide that it is more prudent to fetch the computer than to explain to the cops why I left a laptop in a car parked next to a crazed semi-homeless man.

I tell Harley that we are going on a second walk, and start downstairs.

Three long-haired Indian women are sitting on the steps in front of the building. They are completely blocking the stairway, which has rails on either side.

The one on the left is morbidly obese, the one in the center is chubby, and the one on the right is normal-sized.

None of them budge.
The normal-sized one starts cooing over the dog – “Oh how sweet!” – etc.

As Normal is cooing, Chubby and Obese start making out. So I’m standing there, blocked in, watching these two unsightly women playing tonsil hockey.

And Normal felt inspired, because she leans over and STARTS KISSING THE DOG. On the lips!

So I’m standing, agasp, with NO idea what to do. This isn’t a funny situation like the last time some random person made out with my dog. This was kind of scary. These women were crazy.

The spit-fest continues for a few more minutes before Normal gets bored and lets me pass.

I pass the trollopes and walk down to the street, thoroughly disgusted. The dog is wagging his tail like a pimp, and I let out a Charlie-Brown style ARG! that I’m sure the women could hear over the slurping.

Terry-the-toothless is asleep when I fetched my laptop. And thankfully the women are gone by the time I come back to the apartment building.

Brownie points for those of you who caught the title.