“It is the duty of every citizen according to his
best capacities to give validity to his
convictions in political affairs.”

- Albert Einstein

I love to go mudding.

My cousin’s family has a cabin in the Crosby-Ironton area, and sometimes I go up there with them for the weekend. They have two ATV’s and access to lots of trails. Once when I was up there for the fourth of July weekend, the weather was really lame. It was around 55-60 degrees and gray and rainy.

It was gross.

So my uncle and I and another friend we brought along decided it was perfect conditions to go mudding. I put on my favorite mudding jeans(Calvins), a couple of t-shirts and a couple sweatshirts.

We were the only people on the trails that day. I rode with my uncle on the 500, and Adam rode the 250. There were the most awesome puddles(read: ponds, small lakes) and it didn’t take long for us to get soaked.

On the way back, I switched spots with Adam on the smaller four-wheeler, and the guys ended up getting way ahead of me. I came to this one puddle that was huge and kinda freaked me out, but I just gunned it.

Then, right in middle of the nastiest, muddiest quagmire we had been through all day, the ATV died on me. I had no choice but to step off up to my thighs in the puddle to start it back up and push it out. It was awesome!

When I finally caught up with the guys they had been wondering where I was, but I doubt that it was hard to figure out after looking at me.

The muddier you are, the more fun you have had. ‘Member that.

I know everyone’s been wondering if they are as hip as I am; well now you can find out! Here's the Strib “hip” meme, by way of Margaret.

Where do you live?
The hippest burg in the Twin Cities: South St. Paul! The long-time (and I mean long time) residents of our neighborhood know our house as the “dreamhouse”, because it was built to promote a movie starring Cary Grant and Myrna Loy called “Mr. Blandings Builds His Dreamhouse”.

With whom?
The Reverend Mother, my daddy, the small red one, Felix, Piggy-wiggy and Birdy-wirdy.

What’s your coffeehouse/coffeeshop?
Any uber-funky establishment in the St. Paul/Minneapolis area.

What’s your Sunday breakfast spot?
On the “big, comfy chair” in my parents’ room.

What sites do you surf for news?
...”I get the news I need on the weather report”...

Actually, usually from these blogs, which may give you a clue as to how warped I might be.

What’s the first thing you read in the Strib?
The comics.

What’s on your morning drive dial?
Drive105, the Cities, or K102. Yes! I do listen to country, okay!

When not in town, where are you?
Far, far away.

Who’s your local band/musician?
Me!

Where do you have season tickets?
Oh, I don’t have any, I just mooch off get invited along by people who do.

What’s your apparel store(s)?
Forever 21, American Eagle, pretty much the whole mall.

Where’s your favorite “go to” place that always seems to have just the right thing?
That would be Forever 21.

Where do you get take-out?
Peking Cafe.

What’s your bakery?
My kitchen.

Where do you mall?
America’s mall.

What do you drive?
If this doesn’t make me hip, I don’t know what does:

I drive a 93 Mercury Grand Marquis, also known as my:
old-folks car,
boat,
land-yacht,
tank.

Where are you on a Friday night?
That depends...

Where’s your gallery(s)?
My room.

Who cuts your hair? Where?
A friend I went to school with, at EQ Life.

What are you really uptight about?
Me? Uptight? Never.

What’s your substance of choice?
Chocolate.

What subjects are you a total geek over?
Who are you calling a geek?

Where do you refuel? (recharge? feed your soul?)
While playing my piano.

What’s your date night?
What date night?

What’s the most you’ve paid for a concert ticket?
Me, pay? What is this “pay” you speak of?

When you’re at your naughtiest, you…
Uhhh... I don’t know, ask my mom (and don’t tell my dad).

What’s your beauty/grooming thing?
Everything!

What’s your workout? Where?
Dance-Dance Revolution, in my basement.

Who (or what’s) the service provider you can’t live without?
Hmmm...I guess right now that would be Virgin Mobile.

What’s your favorite night?
Thursday or Friday night.

What’s the next performance you’ll attend?
I’m thinkin’ it’s going to be a dance by Uncle Ben.
The Half-time show won’t even come close to that.

What’s an arts organization you support?
My own art, I don’t have an organization yet.

What’s your nightcap?
Anything I can get my hands on.

Where’s the afterparty?
In my mind.

What’s your favorite restaurant for:
• food?
How can...

• quality?
...I pick?

• late night?
Taco Bell.

• scene?
Cafe Latte.

• impress your date?
My mom says, White Castle.

• impress your client?
I don’t know, I’ll have to ask her.

Who’s your favorite Twin Citian?
Nick Coleman, because he brings so much joy (and material) to the rest of the MOB.

Hear me now – X will be Y in 6 months. . .
Boho will be ‘so last season’ in 6 months, thank God!

Okay, okay. Before we start a blood feud or anything like that:

The Mall Diva realizes Kevin's relatively innocent role in all of the recent events, and hereby lets him off the hook (though I will keep the hook handy).

If Cathy the Volunteer Maternal Protector (VMP) in the Wright still wants to kick his butt, that's between them (but probably time well spent).

As Princess FlickerFeather stated, DDR does rock, but the dance-off will have to wait for another time.

As for Uncle Ben, the Mall Diva charges him as being the instigator, and therefore will decide if he should be let off the hook or not. This statement, however, does not mean that he is barred from getting a good (and safe) haircut. Time and place, man.

Tonight my dad and I went to Keegan's, had some fun and sucked at trivia, along with Uncle Ben and a newby who called himself Randy. There was much drinking, socializing, and yelling at Marty for daring to tell us our short-bus answers were wrong. Something was missing, though...what was it?

Oh, yeah!

Kevin! Afraid to show your face, were you? After all the: "this is what happens when you skip Keegan's" crap that you tried to pull? I'm there more often than you are! Uncle Ben felt some wrath, but of course he blamed it on you.

"Kevin started it!"

Well, in the famous words of Manny the Wooly Mammoth,:

"I don't care who started it, I'm gonna finish it!"

'Nuff said.

So. My New Year’s Eve was rather uneventful. Just out to eat with my family and my friend Casii, coming home to Dance-Dance ‘til we dropped, watch Uptown Girls and the Ball drop (at eleven), and making my dad nervous with talk of going out to find someone to kiss at midnight. Oh, and several games of Spit (if you don’t know what this is, you are really missing out).

It was New Year’s Day that got me, and now I am oh-so-sore!

I am starting to get more interested in snow/ice related sports, so Sunday my mother, sister and I went cross-country skiing for the first time. ooOOoo, big whoop, right? WRONG! The first thing is actually getting the skis on, which I did really without incident. Actually, I am quite proud to say I didn’t fall down at all... until we somehow wandered off the beginner trail onto what I’m sure was, like, Devil’s Canyon or something. I seriously had no idea how to turn while going downhill, resulting in some amazing acrobatics (and, dare I say, contortionism?) that would have been great footage for some sick show like America’s Funniest Home Videos, but there was nobody taping me. In fact, there was nobody around at all. I had left my sister, who was being helped along by my mother, far behind.

I wasn’t scared. Mostly I was just annoyed with the layout of the trail. Seriously, why would anyone plant a thorn bush there? Get that stupid tree out of my way! I am relieved to say that I made it back to the visitors center alive and in one piece.

Anyway, I had a blast, it was beautiful outside, and I did really well until we started sky-diving off snowy cliffs into sharp thorn-infested forests...

Yeah, so I’m pretty sure that I’m going again next weekend, but this time I’m bringing Casii so as to have some emotional support. Hopefully I’ll be able to walk normally by then, too.

Peace out, homeys.