Nice Hollandaise: A Weekend Recap

Ruth Adams and her very dangerous Polka Band

Friday afternoon Hal and I left our tantrum-having darling and set off for our first weekend alone since the summer of 2004. Our last getaway, celebrating our whirlwind four-months together as bf/ gf, we came back all pregnant and shit. (Hi Archer!)

Three years later (this weekend) getting pregnant was NOT an option. But having good silly couple-ish fun was. Quite.

Friday morning, we set off for Minneapolis for a wedding, and even though Minneapolis is hardly an exotic destination for a couple of marrieds desperate for a honeymoon (One day!) it was pretty awesome.

Honestly, at this point, we could have rocked Death Valley like a couple of desert-loving honeymooners. Humping amidst tumbleweeds and running around screaming, "yahoo!" to the wind.

Hal in front of Nye's Polonaise, very sad to hear "last call!"

I attract freaks and weirdos, impersonators and circus folk like celebrities attract groupies:

With an Elvis Impersonator named Larry who spent the entire night with us.

...Perhaps, because they can sense my inner-freak. Because behind all of this quarter-life-crisis confusion I am really a sixty-year-old male Elvis impersonator.

Regardless, Nye's Polonaise (or as I accidentally told our cab driver, Nice Hollandaise) is currently ranked favorite bar of all time. At least, this week (subject to change) and no doubt I would have quickly become a regular had we stayed longer in town. Regardless of how not-very-underground the place is. Not even close.

We danced all night to Ruth Adams and the World's Most Dangerous Polka Band. And they are sooooo not kidding when they call themselves dangerous. Ruth may not look intimidating here but she's a total maniac. A real force to be reckoned with. A hurricane:


You don't believe me? See Ruth rap:



...The Ruth! The Ruth! The Ruth is on fire!

See Ruth bark like a Pomeranian:

Other weekend highlights included one of the most amazing antiquarian book stores I have ever seen. We spent hours thumbing through first editions and old records, gazing into the spines of classic and unknown works. Records. Prints. Piles of dusty pamphlets. Perfection.

Hal, caught empty-handed in the vinyl section, downstairs.

Step into my office, baby.

And then, like Bill Clinton before us, we stumbled in to Peter's Grille for some brunch. Here's a little background information about Prez Clinton and his history at Peter's, in case you were wondering:



After reading the good news, we excitedly ordered from our Bill Clinton signature menus...


...Skipping over but almost ordering the President Clinton special (unfortunately for me, there wasn't a vegetarian alternative for Canadian bacon)

Part one of our two-part commentary, starring Hal and his facial expressions, located below:



(more videos to come as soon as I can figure out how to un-corrupt some of my video files. My camera seems to have caught the flu.)

GGC

*For more on vacationing away from children and/or Hal and me acting like assholes, go here.