Ah. The weekend. Or The Weekend. Whatever sounds more interesting. Or more official.

I woke up this morning around 5:30am because Ramona kept tapping my foot. Or smacking. Whatever sounds more painful. She had a rhyme and reason to it. Tap! 1-2-3-4 Tap! (stare at Claire for signs of movement) Tap! 1-2-3-4 Tap! (stare longer). So I finally got up to feed her hungry ass and now I can’t fall back asleep.

I will mention that after complaining that I never recognized any Mpls. spots on The First 48 (the obligatory downtown shots notwithstanding), I realized that an episode I’ve seen like four times (but never caught the beginning of) has a murder occurring three blocks from my childhood home–right on the banks of the Mississippi River. What’s more they were sitting in Longfellow Grill sipping a Dunn Bros. coffee. There are also some other shots on Franklin and other nearby spots. So my life is now complete.

Oh wait! No, it needed something else. A photograph of me that I don’t cringe at. Not photogenic, this one. I finally got it last week when I saw some of the photos from New York. Most were stage shots but there’s one of me backstage with my client and Richie Havens. And I look downright cute. For me.

I’m going to have to start lugging around a professional photographer at all times. Expensive, yes. But totally worth it.

Well I’m off. Why am I off? Oh yeah! Work. I have a bunch to get done this weekend. Woe is me. There’s just no rest for the whiny. I’ll have stories again soon. They may all be made up, but at least they’ll be stories.