Monthly Archives: March 2006

We went down to the Field’s flower show this morning and my nutshell review is this: outrageously great. Full-on knock your face off great. Great great great. Seriously.
We got there right when it opened and there were maybe 15 other people walking around with us – in other words, it was basically empty – and you could stand back from the displays and just soak them in quietly, which I think really helped because a lot of them were big and complicated and they wouldn’t have come off the same if there were 1000 other people standing in your field of view taking pictures and yapping and drowning out the peaceful Japanese music that was being piped in. In that case, I’m sure I would have left with a much-less-enthused review. As it was, however, it was great.
Kudos to Bachman’s and to some Belgian floral genius named Daniel Ost. Totally blew my mind.
(Today was the last day. I hope you made it down there.)

According to today’s paper, there’s a business here in town that will ‘rent’ you a bunch of models to come to your next party. Why, you ask? Well, I guess I’m not really sure, but the article claims the following:

[The models] don’t cater or cook, but they will show up to your gig, look nice, and perhaps hand out drinks or play the piano. Promotional materials tout the workers as an attractive “accessory” to your next shindig, like twinkle lights or balloons.

Ok, so they don’t cook, but they do hang out and they do look good and ‘perhaps’ they’ll hand out some cocktails and/or play a few songs on a piano or something. So far I’m not seeing anything that Huna and I couldn’t handle other than the fact that we’d probably skip the keyboard and show up with a guitar and a wireless mic instead. “If you’re party’s rockin’, we came a knockin’”.
When asked where they came up with the idea for something as shallow as Fake Guests R Us, the founder chick says:

I was at a party and everything was beautiful, except the servers. I thought, “Why not replace them with models?”

I haven’t stopped laughing since I read that. Can you imagine the bolt of lighting that went off at that party? “I just feel so bad for all these ugly people. *Sigh* We should really set up a business so the public doesn’t have to see them ever again.” It’s like they think they’re doing us a favor or something.
The models have a website. On the website is a questionnaire where beautiful people can apply to be validated as model-y enough to be hired. Here’s my application, sans the physical attribute questions, natch:
If you know a foreign lang., which?
Java. I also know about 75 sign language signs including: ‘cheese’, ‘cracker’, ‘milk’, ‘cheerio’, and ‘poop’.
What, if any, musical instrument do you play?
I can beatbox like a mutha. I also have a mandolin, which, I can assure you, is killer at parties.
Do you sing? What type music?
Do I ever! Mostly kids songs lately, but I think I also may have accidentally memorized the lyrics to that ‘Lumps’ song last summer if that counts for anything.
Are you familiar with the rules for Texas Hold ‘em? Blackjack? 5 Card Stud?
Yes. Yes. Yes. 3 times yes. All in.
Whew! What a brain drain. It’s no Wonderlic, but it’s clearly for real. Here’s hoping I make the cut. Although I guess if I do, it only proves it’s an even stupider idea than I thought it was.
An Entertaining Business Model [strib]
Model’s Who Mix [mwm]

I noticed an interesting editorial choice on the Strib’s op-ed page yesterday. I debated with myself for awhile about writing it up here because, as you may know, I’m not normally the kind of guy who does that whole ‘rip the Strib in my blog’ routine. For the most part that’s because I find that flavor of blogging to be so profoundly clich

Tonight after junior went to bed I ran over to Target to grab a few sundries. I was dressed down – dirty baggy jeans, snowboard sweatshirt, etc. Also worth noting is that I’m a couple weeks past due for a haircut and I haven’t shaved in a while.
As I’m walking through the store, I see this doof guy wearing hipster jeans, a track jacket, and a sideways retro Twins hat. He’s not pushing a cart or carrying one of those basket things. I immediately tag him as one of those ‘undercover’ loss prevention guys. Way to blend in, genius.
I go about my business. Toothpaste: check; generic Purell: check; browse the ink cartridges on clearance: check. Hey, look, there’s that doof guy again. Over to the plastic rubbermaid tub section. Find matching lids. Hey, look, there’s that doof guy again.
Wait a second.
You got it – I now look so scruffy that I meet some official Target profiling guideline. I laughed out loud when I realized it. The dude left me alone after that. When I checked out I noticed him chatting up the ‘police’ looking Target security guy by the front door. I’ll assume he was telling him how one of their shoppers really needs a haircut.