I, Muehlenhaus. U, Riedermaus.

Well, I said I was taking off, and I wasn't kidding. World Cup Fieber (see song 3 under this link) has grabbed hold of me, and I can't shake it loose! Granted, I haven't been watching games in my neighbor's backyard since early on in the tournament, but I have been sneaking the early games at 7:30 a.m. between playing with Mette and preparing my Europe class. I am a bonafide World Cup junkie.

The first weekend I was glued to the television. When games weren't on, I was playing the US and Mexico on my Gamecube, as though I could simulate World Cup victory for the North American clubs. But then something odd happened... I began teaching again and that consumed me.

Perhaps I have a short attention span. Or maybe I just get bored easily, but once preparing class became a reality, soccer dropped by the wayside, as did rolling dice in my other neighbor's garage -- yes, we've got some kick ass neighbors around us. Moreover, the Twins started doing really well at around this time, so I started following them online again. But let me put some of this in chronological order, before I spill my guts and can't figure out how to put them all back together again...

1 WC (day one of the World Cup)
Friday evening Germany slaughtered Costa Rica and Ecuador proved that they may be the team to beat, not Brazil. Birgit and I went to one of Birgit's former sutdent's apartment for dinner. It was really good food, and interesting to meet the woman and her boyfriend -- who plays soccer, as it turns out. Played a game called Apples to Apples after dinner was over, while sipping wine. The game was different, and I still think Dracula has a better work ethic than roller derby girls, but I digress and this will never make any sense to anyone that wasn't there.

2 WC
Much like the 1st WC. I was glued to the television that morning. I was supposed to be preparing my class which began on Tuesday, but in essence I already am prepared -- having taught it once before, all I really need to do now is refresh my memory, come up with more interactive "group" things, and piece them all together for three hours. So soccer took precedence. Then we went to our friend's Tom and LeeAnne's. LeeAnne is a French instructor at the University. Tom is her boyfriend. They were housesitting for some jetsetter type who lives on White Bear Lake and has a little Shitzu that is more bizzare than even my mother's Shitzu. It must be a breed thing. (This is not the only weird animal I have bumped into since my last blog entry, as Adam can attest to... but I will get to that.) We had a beer, took a six-pack into the speed boat, and set off to buy some gas, as the owner of the house said we should have enough fuel to get across the lake and fuel it up to come home. We drove across the lake, sipping Summit and enjoying ourselves. Upon pulling up to the fueling station, though, it became apparent that it had closed hours earlier. So we opened up the gas tank, took a whiff, smelled fumes, and figured we could run the sucker back across the lake no problem. We got a little cocky toward the end, and I egged Tom into doing a couple of loops to unsettle LeeAnne, and then, with the dock about 150 yards off, the motor sputtered, died, and we were left drifting in a perfectly still lake looking like imbeciles. (Not that we aren't imbeciles, but I think they would all agree that, in general, we are all pretty capable of hiding "the look.") Luckily, there was a short paddle and some weird spongeboard thing, so we paddled the last 150 yards in, waved at the fishermen looking at us from the neighbor's dock, headed up the hill and started grilling brats. We played some game there too -- I forget what it is called, maybe Catchphrase. All I know is you have this timer thing that is random and beeps a lot and basically ensures everyone is on the brink of a heart attack, or has a migraine, and you pass it back and forth, etc. Birgit and I were on the same team and we got slaughtered. Just as well, really, we never work well together in games. We are both a little too competitive, and like a bad soccer club, we blame one another for our team's lack of victory. We aren't much better in one-on-one games, either, as we are both exceedingly vicious and cut-throat to one another, always resulting in one of us being passive aggressive for hours afterward. The way of couples, I guess.

3 WC
Sunday was different. Saturday evening our neighbors, two brothers Jeff and Mike, knocked on our door and asked us if we would be interested in going to a Twins game. Now anyone that has been watching the Twins this year knows that it hasn’t been going too well. Anyone from Minnesota also knows that the Twins are one of about two teams that play indoors, which on a nice summer day is a lot like sitting in the basement and watching soccer on television… wait a second… well, whatever. But we had never hung out with these two, and I can tell they are a cool breed, more small town than anyone else I know in the Cities, and a couple of guys I can relate to. I realized this even more when we started relating and sharing our Superior, Wisconsin, bar stories. They took the cake within one where a Yellow Taxi driver offered them pot while driving them back to Duluth over the bridge. Very authentic Duluth… but again… back to the point.

We said yes, but then Birgit backed out, because she didn’t really want to spend Sunday afternoon inside. That was just as well with me, as it felt good to go out with some beer drinking, Duluth-knowing guys. We had great seats – Mike had scored someone’s season tickets, so we were sitting in the eighth row basically behind home plate. The Twins slaughtered the Orioles. It was a fun game to watch and my interest in them was renewed. They haven’t lost since, it has been over a week now, so my interest is peaked. I say peaked, because the two teams in front of them haven’t lost for the past week either, which is really frustrating, because no matter how well the Twins are doing they remain 11 games back. But I’m confident now… they are back on track and may make the playoffs… I can only wait and see, I guess.

Mike, Jeff, and I went to Grumpy’s bar after the game and met a doctor friend of theirs. We stayed there a little long, and then migrated to their backyard, where they have a cable hookup, and watched the NBA finals.

4 WC
The next morning Jeff, Mike, and the good doctor were in the backyard watching the World Cup starting at 9 a.m. or something. I don’t know exactly. They were there when I left for an appointment on campus, and drinking when I returned from lunch with my friend at the Village Wok at around 2 p.m. In the meantime the Czech’s had slaughtered the US 3-0. I hung out for a bit of the next match, and then returned for the NHL and NBA finals that evening. They sat in the yard the whole time, occasionally one of them would get up, fire the grill and cook some meat to eat. The cooler kept being replenished with alcohol by new people who kept showing up. In the end, there were about 15 or 20 people in the yard, poker games going on, and Birgit’s television – which we seem to have lent to them indefinitely for the summer now – blaring different sporting events or Primus videos (as they hooked up a DVD too). The party lasted well after we went to bed. It was great!

5 WC
I had my first class that evening. Three hours, from 6-9 p.m., in a room with large windows along the western wall. The sun was blinding and nearly melted the chairs. We shut the blinds, but the room heated up like a sauna run by mad Finns! I kept the first class simple. Went over the syllabus, the website, and common definitions, and misconceptions, of what Europe is. I let them out a half-hour early to win them over. Also to go home and take a cold shower. Man, it was boiling in there.

6 WC
My friend Darren had asked me about a month earlier if I was free to go for a bike ride in June in preparation for our Rochester to Lacrosse run that he convinced me might be fun to do somehow. So we set up to meet in Cannon Falls at 10 a.m. on 5 WC (i.e., Wednesday). It all went down without a hitch and we biked halfway to Red Wing before we had both had enough and realized the trail was uphill the entire way back. Somehow survived this 20 mile ride, which isn’t that bad to anyone who bikes regularly, but was hell to me, as “regular use” in my mind means pulling my bike out of the garage about once per year to get a video about four blocks away. The ride really wasn’t bad, and then it was lunch time. So Darren and I settled down at the Cannon Falls winery and sampled a couple of wines, ate some Nachos at a local tavern – perhaps the only tavern in Cannon Falls – and called it a day. It was pretty nice. I was exhausted but it felt good to get my heart rate up for a couple of hours.

That night I met up with Adam. On the phone he told me he was mesmerized by some guy walking his pet iguana outside his apartment window. Perhaps due to my bike ride – I become like a zombie after exercise, completely oblivious to the world around me – it didn’t hit me how odd having a giant lizard walking around outside your window might be. Until I picked him up. While waiting for him to make his way through the maze-like hallways of his complex, I sat on a bench and took in the local scenery. There was some Caucasian dude walking toward me down the sidewalk with what looked to be a cat draped over his shoulder. He got closer. And closer, and then I realized, that was not a cat tail and leash going down his torso but a giant lizard tail. Since I was right next to the doors, he was going right by me.

“Nice iguana,” I said, quite in awe.

The owner seemed to love the attention that the lizard brought to him, so he stopped and thus began my 10 minute interview with Jack and Mr. E – not for Iguana but for “Elizabeth,” which is a long story involving one of Jack’s ex-girlfriends that I won’t bore you with because I wish he hadn’t bothered me with it. While waiting for Adam for those three minutes, and then with Adam there, looking as baffled as I was, for about three more minutes, I learned that iguanas have the mental capacity of a cat, don’t respond when their names are called, climb trees, only eat fruits, like their trapdoor aquariums, and have membrane ears that you can tickle. I also found out that iguanas have teeth as sharp as razors, claws that scar one’s face and hands for life – this guy basically had a freshly created cleft lip from the damn thing scratching his face and his hand was pussing with puncture wounds. Jack invited Adam and I to stop by and hang out with his iguana any time, over in apartment C2 or something. We can just rap on the window if we want in. As Adam dryly noted later: yeah, I’m going to have to do that – go hang out with him and his iguana. The guy did seem pathetically desperate for non-reptilian friends.

Birgit and I invited Adam over for some Noodles & Company. Or is it Noodles? I’m not sure. Whatever… drank a few Pilsners and caught up on things. Good time, but then suddenly I was about to pass out from biking, eating, and having a couple of socials, and we never did get to sample his fresh, unopened Ukrainian pepper-honey vodka. Next time.

7 WC
The second class… basically I spent the day preparing and watching the dog. Watching the dog is a bit tiring and grueling, particularly when she doesn’t want to go outside – because it is so damn hot – but she wants to be entertained inside. Entertaining our dog inside isn’t that difficult, basically it means hurling Mr. Lucky, a stuffed pig, across the room and dragging her by her teeth across our wood floors like a mop. She eventually gets all riled up, goes nuts, and chases me at full speed, chomping at my heals and barking “Red Rum, Red Rum!” I don’t know what the barking is all about, one too many pirate films as a pup perhaps, but eventually she wears down, does a circle or two, and then—thump! She collapses and passes out. She snores a bit. Rolls a bit. But basically you can leave her where she lies for a good hour or two.

The class went well this day. I am really hitting on Peter Taylor’s World-System scales theory, because: a) I think students really like it, and I think it really grounds the class as geography, rather than cultural studies; b) though students like it, I don’t think I explained it well last time I taught this course or referred to it enough to make it worthwhile, whereas this time I am making them do exercises every class, using examples from European current events, to really pound it into them that scale is crucial to understanding political conflict; and c) I really like the theory, I think this department sucks at political geographic theory and is very narrowly focused on strict Marxist and post-modern interpretations, and I like exposing students here to theories that are fare more applicable than the mullarky the UMN department generally espouses and teaches. (Not that I’m opinionated. Ha!)

8 WC
Friday came and I had every intention of getting a ton done for Tuesday’s lecture, but nothing got done, because I became glued to the television again watching the World Cup. I wrote the afternoon off, as Birgit got home early. I was insanely grumpy, actually, because I hadn’t done anything and had wasted the day. But in reality, I think I was just coming down from my first full week of teaching. Teaching is kind of interesting. The first week is harrowing, because you can only prepare for it so much. You can’t predict who your students will be, what the class atmosphere will be like, and how they will react to your different topics. It is like an awkward blind date – the entire first week. It sucks. And like a blind date, you are relieved when it is done and you need some time to come down and analyze how good it was. Unfortunately, unlike a blind date, you are committed to at least 40 more (in the Fall, only 14 more in the summer) dates with them. This class is a good one. I’m looking forward to the entire summer. I got lucky. I got lucky last fall too. But still, my nerves are always a little shot after the first week of class.

So to overcome my grumpiness, I sat in the cool basement and watched Kill Bill – both volumes. Birgit had never seen them, and for some reason she was actually game to give them a try that evening. I was shocked, actually. And not only did she watch the first, but asked for the second. And in the end she thought they were hokey, dumb, and not that great, but she agreed that Tarantino can really film well. And I guess that’s all one could ask for from someone who primarily enjoys European romance films. I have to admit that I didn’t like these films at all the first time I saw them, was converted to their brilliance upon second, inebriated viewing with my friend Steve, and now… I don’t ever have to see them again. They aren’t that good. Some great fight scenes, etc., but Sin City was much tighter as a film all around. And Tarantino’s dialogues, though funny at times, become awkwardly contrived after five-plus hours. But this is just my humble opinion…

9 WC
We went to Maple Grove to check out a kennel for Mette when Birgit and I travel to Montreal in August. I then went to the in-laws for coffee. I had forgotten that the US was playing at that time, and Mike and Jeff invited me over to watch the game in their backyard but it didn’t work out. So I watched it with Rolf. The referee was appalling, but it was the best match of the Cup so far! Incredible to watch. My in-laws saw a side of me they haven’t seen since I skipped Christmas Mass to watch the Vikings-Packers game. Rolf wasn’t as involved in the game as I was, even though he is a rabid soccer fan. Partially because he had just been stung in the lip by a wasp while riding his bike and his lip was swelling up. (Poor guy!) Their puppy played with our puppy, and our puppy played with their puppy, and when all was said and done, Birgit and I were home by five and our dog was dead tired. We put her in the kennel and decided we felt cosmo. So we dressed up and drove downtown to eat cosmo style. We spontaneously went to some seafood restaurant on Nicollet Mall (McCormick and Shits), ordered great dishes, ate too much, came home, let the dog out, and passed out.

10 WC
Sunday, bloody f*cking Sunday! I hate Sundays even though they don’t mean anything to me. Birgit is normally in a foul mood because she has to get up early and go to work the next day. I normally want to work, but don’t really get much done.

This Sunday was slightly different. I actually got my lecture slides done for Tuesday. It felt great. I also watched the World Cup, took Mette for a long walk with Birgit, and… shit, I don’t know. Sundays suck.

11 WC
Here I sit. The plan was to run into campus and drop off some readings to be photocopied for a K-12 teacher summer workshop I am working on with Roger in July. But then my Mozilla Thunderbird stopped working. I spent an hour trying to fix it, reinstall it, trick it, and eventually… I gave up. Blasted open source! ;>) So I went to the bus stop 15 minutes early, because I didn’t want to miss it. It never came. After waiting 40 minutes I walked up to Caribou. I sat and edited a rather lengthy letter to my brother. Then came home to let the dog out. Started writing this… if you have read this far, you are probably even more bored than I am. I highly suggest not wasting your time on this blog to instead watch the World Cup.

Actually, I’m flattered you read this. I’ll try to keep more up to date now that the field is narrowing for the trophy! Prediction: Argentina takes the Cup. Brazil is playing like the Yankees right now – a bunch of bloated millionaires.

Picture
Sam, Alicia, and Ian (1994). The US had just tied Switzerland in its first World Cup match in forty years or something. And we were all leaving Hungary and our shitty AFS experience within several weeks. Thus, we were all overjoyed! Fast forward to 2006... the US lost to the Czech Republic 0-3. Sam joined the Kiwi army and blew his head off in frustration -- dead. After initially getting out for a year or so to live in England, Alicia is stuck on the South Island of New Zealand with children. And at 30, I'm still in school. I'm not sure who is laughing now. Probably the Czechs.