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We got a new second hand mattress and box spring so we had to get rid of the old set. Where I’m from, rural Wisconsin, one would normally throw the old mattress in a ditch or burn it in the back forty. The city of St. Paul frowns on such disposal methods so we had to find a “recycling” place. Places that take old mattresses also only take cash. We tied the mattress and boxspring to the top of the Buick (not an actual Buick; a Cutlass with the stoic trappings of a Buick) and drove to the bank. This is near the capital buildings, so we took University Avenue. We drove passed the hotel furniture place where we got the mattress a few years ago, passed the weak attempt at genrification via stripmalls (don’t forget to play “spot-the-crackwhore” — there she is!) and into the Frogtown, the neighborhood of dualing Vietnamese Restaurants. After acquiring our cash, we admired the reflection of the Buick in the government buildings and drove into downtown St. Paul and wiggled around until we crossed the Wabasha Street bridge. Wabasha becomes Concord and the restaurants become Mexican. This is the west side. There are caves to visit when we don’t have a mattress on our car. We drove down Concord, which becomes one lane either way due to the other side being dug up. Railroad ties is what they are finding and putting on trucks. Then we turned left. Crossed some tracks. The first pole-shed/warehouse is iron, then wood, then down further is more of the consumer goods. The office of this recycling facility was plastered with framed photos of Ronald Reagan; young Reagan, Reagan on horseback, Reagan with Bush Sr, etc. There were also American flags, and photos of Jesus and fishing trips. We unloaded and leaned the mattress and boxspring up against other, older and more floral mattresses. Briefly, we watched the workers clammering around on the charred pile of chairs and tables and other artifacts of broken homes.
Then we had lunch.

I found a business card at work for a paving and curbing company in southern California. It had the usual contact info plus this vague job title below the contact name: lifestyle enhancement provider.

I saw a bus yesterday that announced the smoking ban with a billboard that read: fresh air coming to bars and restaurants near you. Seems a little odd coming from a bus. The smoking ban in Minneapolis, Bloomington, and St. Paul went into affect March 31st. I think it’s lame, cityhall (or whoever) trying to impose “clean air” into venues where it doesn’t belong. When I go to a bar or nightclub, part of the experience for me is the second hand smoke. I’ve dabbled in smoking but it’s not a vice I took up fulltime. I like the smell of smoke and appreciate the additional filter second-hand smoke provides. Plus, smoke disguises the rank of sweaty drunkies at nightclubs. Now, people have to go outside, where at least before it was contained. I think fresh air is important on the outside. I would rather wash the cigarette smoke out of my hair and clothes than hear about another air quality warning where delicate lungs should stay indoors. If people drove less gas-guzzlers, clean air might have a fighting chance. But the people like their large cars, they’ll do anything to keep them and still believe in clean air. So the smoking ban it is.

noun. sheath of rankness. “The waiter at Bakers Square is doused in hobo cologne.”

I just finished my BA in Linguistics. So I get a lot of the obvious question: what am I going to do with my degree? In the spirit of my sociolinguistics training, I have found the following ways to apply my degree to daily life. This is just the beginning, of course.

- Express holiday and birthday greetings in tree diagrams.
- Demonstrate my knowledge of the northern midland dialect at parties.
- Write all correspondence using the International Phonetic Alphabet.
- Watch daytime television with the close captioning.
- Peer presure people into inverting their syntax.