Mr. and Mrs. Valbowski

Living in Minneapolis without air conditioning right now is about the equivalent of living stuck to the inside of the Weber grill that's in my front yard; it's hot as hell. As I write this, I am wearing converted swim trunks that weigh roughly as much as the hair that comes off my head at a normal haircut. And that's all. It has finally reached the point where I'm no longer restricted by any sort of self-conscious "maybe I shouldn't do it" thoughts. I'm baring it all, and proud of it. Yeah, so I've had a few Chipotle burritos in the last three years and yeah, I've shotgunned a few beers and cashed a few kegs--and it shows--but damn, it's just that hot. Today marked the 10th consecutive day I've taken a cold shower. We're not talking lukewarm leftover dishwater here, I'm talking chill-the-beers-in-this-water coldness. Really is something to experience.


I have this strange need to always have at least one thing that I can do better than the next person. I don't know if it's a comfort thing or what, but, yeah, it's a comfort thing. Usually, I am pretty confident I'm better at playing the piano than anyone I may come in contact with. But sometimes, I have to kick it to another level. (And it's mostly with freakish Asians--I don't want to stereotype or anything, but man, those guys can play. And they are good with computers. But not with prepositions.) Sometimes, I will know that I'm SLIGHTLY-never more-attractive than a person. This is rare. (But many of those it works on are piano-playing Asians.) Other times, I figure I can eat more than a person. While this is fairly reliable, it isn't exactly comforting. If it really comes down to it, I am usually confident that I am better at creating my own slang language than the person in question. And that, my friends, is a great feeling.