Tuesday, August 25, 2009

North Country visit leads to an interview with Minnesota's leading lady...

Hello fellow citizens of the lonely space we call blogosphere,

How are you?

So, for the many (2) of you who were wondering what happened to your least favorite blogger over the past few days, I want you to know I was safe and having a really good time in this place referred to by professional geographers as Up North.

In fact, if you're really interested in how my vacation was you can visit any local Barnes and No-Balls, walk directly to the nearest postcard rack, look for various Minnesotan postcards featuring activities such as fishing and swimming and pretty much get the gist of it. If you're really interested, venture into the Minnesota aisle and pick up a Sounds of the Common Loon CD and you'll really get the whole, big drive-in picture.

However reader, one thing distinguishes my trip up to the North Country from the trip of the usual Minnesotan and that is I met Lucette, girlfriend of Paul Bunyan.

Naturally, I was astounded to meet Lucette, but like other large creatures of the freshwater lakes, she ended up being more frightened of me than I of her.

So, read carefully, as I explore the delightful, and at times, incredibly modern sides of our beloved Lucette: First Girlfriend of Minnesota

Pistola Whipped (PW): Lucette, how did you and Paul first meet?

Lucette (L): Well, kinda like the way you kids meet on the Internet these days. I carved my name and campsite on the side of a birch tree and Paul tore off the bark and slipped it into his gunnysack before chopping the tree down. Later he looked me up.

PW: So, he just stomped into your campsite unannounced or what?

L: Well, the thing about Paul is he is so big you could hear him coming from a mile away. And Babe, the damned Blue Ox, smells to high heaven, so between the two of them I always know when he was on his way.

PW: Was it scandalous back in the day to be Paul's girlfriend and not his wife?

L: Oh, my yes. People in those days so much as looked at each other and they were married. Needless to say, Paul and I were the talk of the North Country, especially with his uncanny way of knowing what village everyone was from upon meeting them. That really freaked the settlers out.

PW: Lucette, you're a big gal, and I mean that with no disrespect, but Paul, he created lakes back in his day...he's huge! How did the two of you, you know...make more lakes?

L: (Laughing) Your generation is so forthright. I don't know. We figured it out, probably much like you kids do. We would meet at various wood-chopping competitions around the state where Paul was competing and sneak away from the old folks and you know, figure our way around the ol' pine cone.

PW: Did you ever think about other men than Paul?

L: I suppose I did. I briefly dated Johnny Appleseed. He was a bit too much of a roamer for me and at the time I was a good, God-fearing Midwestern woman that I continue to be today. Before that I went with John Henry for a bit, but he was kind of a control freak and had a one-track kind of mind.

PW: How do you put up with Babe the Blue Ox?

L: It's been a bit of a touch-and-go situation for Paul and I these past 150+ years, as far as Babe goes. She comes in handy with some chores and such. I guess (Lucette mightily signs) as any jealous female can, she gets as temperamental as a Northwoods patch of mosquitoes and can hook me or Paul with her horns as fast as Paul can feld a white pine tree. After we've detached ourselves we usually have to ground her to the barn for a piece.

PW: Lucette, it's been a pleasure meeting a Minnesota icon and heroine. Is there any advice you have to modern couples seeking the longevity you and Paul have shared?

L: I don't know. Stick to the basics: campfires and starlight dances. Perhaps have a basic understanding of how to properly wash flannel clothing? I hope that helps you, the future men and women of the North Country.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

No blog direction home....

Hello again,

Since I've joined the blogger world nearly seven months ago I've been exploring lots of other people's blogs. I've noticed something in almost every blog site I've visited and that's that these good people all have blog themes.

Blog themes.

I check in daily with a local comedian who talks about his comedy. I work with a comic book artist and his blog is all about comic books, specifically his own comics. I visit my geologist friend's blog who writes about science and geology and made it clear on her blog that she has no intention of linking to blogs that aren't about science. I see blogs about pop culture, dancing, current events, crime, politics, sex, Minneapolis, blah...

Blog themes.

I don't have one. Yeah sure, I call it Pistola Whipped gets a life, but really? I'm not going to get a life. I don't even know why I call myself Pistola Whipped.

Perhaps my blog could be about having no direction?

These are heady thoughts for a Sunday morn.

Do you ever find yourself talking to other people and you just keep talking and talking and you don't want to be talking but you can't find your way out of the conversation unless you keep talking to find your point and they're staring at you because they have absolutely no idea what you're talking about and they're wishing you would just shut up, but you keep yapping and yapping and you can hear yourself and you may be sprinkling the conversation with little white lies because you want to buy time to get to your point and you've ran out of factual information? Once you finally close your mouth your only hope is that they won't remember any of this the next day?

That never happens to me. I've only heard about it from other people.

Have a good day,

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

National Night Out and I stayed in...

Good evening,

As many of you know tonight is the night where good, God-fearing citizens of this fine country get outside and meet their neighbors. It's that time of year again...National Night Out.

I've always been able to avoid this excruciating venture into friendliness because I've been a renter and never had any feeling of obligation to my neighborhood to get out there and attend. This year is different. As a homeowner, I feel like I should have headed up the organization, been the first to arrive, the last to leave...and believe me, if booze was acceptable at these events...that would be the case.

Unfortunately I did none of those things, and as I sit here on my bedroom floor trying to hide the light of my computer screen, my neighbors are out there chatting it up, enjoying the summer night, making contacts, establishing solidarity, feeling good about themselves.

And I keep asking myself, why the hell does it have to be set up directly in front of my house? This is a big, long city block...why couldn't it have been set up down the street? Up the street? Not at all? Why does adult life keep throwing these big ass curve balls at me and instead of taking it like a professional, I fold at the knees and fall to the ground crying? In fact, I'm the only damn person who was inconsiderate enough to park their car on the street and not park a half block away and walk it in.


Perhaps next year I'll join the committee, clean up my yard, get right with god, but this year I'm going to sit and cower like the feeble adult I am.