Let’s talk about the kitchen in my first apartment: A room the size of an airplane galley* with the bonus feature of a countertop hinged to the wall. If that countertop was not in the lift and stow position (just like an airplane tray-table) it wasn’t possible to open the refrigerator or the oven.
This was great incentive (for my roommate) to do the dishes. I preferred moving the dirty dishes to the living room. *I’ve peeked in an airplane galley – it’s usually hidden behind a curtain (that matches the drapes) – the flight attendant works mechanically, loading up that cumbersome cart to roll down the aisle.
The delicacies that came out of that first apartment kitchen included (and were limited to) chicken pot-pies and tater tots. The crisper drawer in my refrigerator contained a large amount of an herb – but that was none of my business.
Oh, but the tater tots!
Straight from the freezer and onto my cast-iron skillet: washed down with an Old Milwaukee and a Camel Lights cigarette.
Whew! Did I mention I had 18 by the balls? ALSO, if I had a hankering for ribs OR pizza, I only had to walk down the stairs. That’s right, the one and only Ribizza fulfilled that strange combination requirement for Uptown, Minneapolis.
Exactly five minutes West of my house is Kings Wine Bar - a newish (rhymes with Jewish) little neighborhood restaurant. They serve tater tots but with sauces far fancier than ketchup. I was there last night and there didn’t seem to be any Old Milwaukee or Camel cigarettes on the menu but somehow, after we ate our tater tots, our table was magically covered with candy.
This doesn’t have anything to do with the card I wrote/designed last night. Or does it?
This makes us happy because there is no faster way to evangelize than through a chain of shops that snakes its way through the country.
has nothing to do with fecal matter and so we were surprised (and delighted) to see it on our latest Paper Source order.
had become a shower head and I had become naked. I prayed that nobody would walk through (why didn’t I just lock it?) the shop door while I took my unnecessary (and might I add: gratuitous?) shower next to my printing press.
with his cow. He wasn’t smiling. I woke up.
(Notice my friend, 
I bet because of the tricorn hat.
A shark puppet would help me work through my fears.
These little banks would help me save for my criss-crossing America road-trip.
and I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer. He’ll be here for a few days and then we’ll have to say goodbye. I really, really hate saying goodbye. I hate it so much, I made a card:
I told them that we need to make clam chowder and clams don’t clam themselves so get to work.
Why would I send that card/who would want to receive a card like that?
There. I’ve said it. I feel so much better. 
I haven’t been back to the MTM House since my friend’s family moved out, BUT one of my spies was just there (it’s 
