Below you'll find all my writing tagged with the word At Grumpy’s. The posts are listed in chronological order. Click the post title to read more.
Some of the heartiest of Minnesotans might thing it was a moral failing on my part to take off virtually an entire week because of a cold. Those people can blow me. There is nothing fun about being sick and there’s nothing good or productive about doing a half-ass job while being sick. No, taking [...]
My throat hurt as I drove away from Grumpy’s at an entirely too late hour of the night. It was from screaming about how sexist Twilight is. Peabo’s voice probably doesn’t hurt because she’s all calm, cool, and collected in her arguments. Part of the pain was caused by the laughter. And the tator tots [...]
Alice Munro: She’s a big dull dud, her stories are slow and boring. In her defense Kurt said her sentences sparkle, I said I must have fell asleep before that happened. Jhumpa Lahiri: Too controlled, no joy in her writing. Marilynne Robinson: The Alice Munro of Iowa, zzzzzz. I did, however, mention how much I [...]
Last night at Grumpy’s, Jags, No Nickname Amanda, and I had a conversation about Art, Artists, and whether you can go on enjoying the art if you find out something really gross about the artist. I am not sure how we got on this topic, but it had something to do with Joni Mitchell and [...]
One day you’re leaping from bed at 11:37 on a Thursday barely-morning because you’re supposed to meet someone for lunch at noon and the next thing you know it’s Friday. And it’s May. In between there was lunch, a call from your former boss that made you laugh so hard your throat hurt, talking about [...]
Tonight in Minnesota it snowed and then because that doesn’t make driving challenging enough it also decided to rain on top of that and then get cold enough to freeze. As my dad always likes to say, it was slickery. Much to my own sense of pride, I decided to drive to class in the [...]
“So you lost your job?” Vodo asked. “Yeah.” “I thought you were a freelancer.” “No, I have a real job.” “Really?” “How do you think I made my money?” “I just thought you mooched off people.” “No way, I’m nine to five and all that.” I paused. “Okay, 9:30 to 4, but still.” He narrowed [...]
Peabo and I were at Grumpy’s sans Jags who had to go to some Christmas concert at one of her kid’s school. We were having a grand old time talking about nipples, Vodo, our classmates, teacher contracts, having sex with tampons in (is this possible?), lesbians, and yoga. Pretty standard dinner conversation, I think. At [...]
One movie I always forget that I really love: That Thing You Do. One annoyance: That I’ve been kind of brain dead lately and haven’t written dick to save my life — at all. So instead I make silly lists because of my love/hate relationship with Nablmo. One ass that needs to me kicked: TBS’s. [...]
Went to class where I was quite happy to see Johnny, the Greek Went to Grumpy’s with Peabo & Jags where I ate a turkey sandwich, some tater tots and talked about The Sabotage Cafe Yelled at 8-months-pregnant Al, the cutest girl on earth™, for making us late to her surprise baby shower Played Guitar [...]
“I read that because I heard you were going to be here,” Joshua Furst the author of the absolutely wonderful (and challenging in a good way all books should challenge you) The Sabotage Cafe said. “Where’d you hear that?” I asked because I should not be allowed to talk to total strangers. “Oh,” he smiled. [...]
Well tonight I found out the results of that which I was too afraid to speak of. I didn’t get in to the The Loft’s Mentor Series. Boo. Poor Polly Pockets (how’s that for alliteration?) gently broke the news to Peabo and I outside of Grumpy’s tonight. I didn’t know who to feel worse for, [...]
The thing I love the most about my poetry class is going to Grumpy’s afterwards and debriefing with Polly and Peabo. Hanging out with smart, open-minded, honest women is the bomb, y’all. Today we spent a lot of time spoojing over Jude, The Poetess. For reasons that are not quite clear, the Angry Fiction Writer [...]
I was a victim of crime tonight. Well, Ruby and I were. While I was happily chatting about the creative process, borrowing books, and angst at Grumpy’s, some bastard was breaking into poor, lonely Ruby sitting in the parking lot at the Open Book. Of course the only reason that I know this is because [...]
You know nothing good is going to come of a night where the topic of rectal bleeding includes the words gobs and gobs. Really. I’ve come to the conclusion that most writers in my class are sick fucks. Ashes in hotdishes? Marbles in dead mom’s mouths? Rectal bleeding? Mortuary sciences? I’m like Suzy fucking Sunshine [...]
MN Reads PW.net
