u s e y o u r h a n d s

Woodcut of My Dreams

Originally uploaded by minvervah.

This is why streetart is wonderful.

All the Virginia Tech stuff has turned my thoughts to my former co-worker, Beau Yarbrough. A proud VT grad, Beau is a writer at a Southern California paper and shares his thoughts on the tragedy at his blog, LBY3.

That’s the Fiddlehead Cafe in Chicago’s Lincoln Square Neighborhood. That’s the FIDDLEHEAD CAFE. Let me say it again so it’s sure to get picked up on search engines. Fiddlehead Cafe.

It’s awful. Here’s why:

- There were no vegan options on the menu. And while I don’t expect much, I think it’s sort of stupid not to have something when you run a restaurant in a yuppie neighborhood. I’m sure it’s come up a few times before.

- Anyhoo. So I ask for a veggie frittata without the eggs or cheese. And the waittress says, “Um, how’s that going to happen?”

- After Miss Snottypants walks off wiht my order, she returns 90 seconds later and says, “Um yeah, the chef won’t make anything not on the menu.” Chef, you are a dick. It wasn’t that busy in there and I wasn’t asking for anything you wouldn’t have done in making the whole frittata anyway.

- So then I ask for a fruit bowl. “I know it’s not on the menu,” I say, “But can you see if the chef will acquiesce? Otherwise, I’m not eating here.”

- And then it took 20 minutes to get the check.

- I still tipped a decent tip. But I will never go back to the Fiddlehead Cafe. It was way, way better when it was Square Kitchen. Dear Fiddlehead, Suck It. Love, Me.

S on Western

Originally uploaded by minvervah.

I’ve started taking pictures of cool s’s. This one is from a liquor store sign. I made it into a stencil the other day during silkscreen class. Yeah, that’s how I roll.

Is it just me or do you also think that Web 2.0/social media is our generation’s desperate way of trying to find meaning and majesty in ephemeral stuff like t-shirts and talent shows? No? Okay.

Graham edged his foot toward Jalousie’s slowly, as if it was a deer in the forest. Either it would run away, quickly wrapped around the leg of her stool, or it would come closer and see what it was he had to offer.

So I like to lie, right? And even more than that, I like to make up fakey backstories for people. The other day at work, we were talking about this dude who was recently let go and I mentioned that he’s quite the consipiracy theorist (which he’s not actually.) “No,” I said, “he has all these outlandish theories on all kinds of stuff. Like the Kennedy Assassination. You know who he thinks killed Kennedy? Kennedy. He thinks it was a suicide.”

And it occured to me that that is the ONE theory on the Kennedy Assassination that I haven’t heard.

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