Last week was my husband’s 38th birthday. Though, if you asked him late last weekend how old he was, there was a hot moment where he reflected and questioned his age: “Maybe I will be 39? I was born in 1975. It’s 2013. … Math…” Granted, he had a night of shots in him, but come on! I’m terrible at math, and even I know that doesn’t add up (subtract up?). Once we got past that emotional testimony of his age and what it meant to him (seriously, he grows a vagina each year around his birthday), we got back to planning his birthday weekend in Minneapolis.
Before the weekend birthday trip, it was his actual day of birth. Like the good wife that I am, I bought him some gifts in addition to tickets to the Twins game. I found the perfect card at Target — they have seriously stepped up their card game in recent months, by the way. The card had a Luchador on it that said “Mucho Macho.” It really was a birthday card, I swear. Then his gifts: His main gift was amazing seats to the Minnesota Twins game that we would see on Saturday, but I still needed to get him a little something, ya know?! I found this sweet beer pint glass on Etsy that had a sad pug face engraved on it. Then I found a fish store by my gym that actually sells Discus fish, the ones, ahem, that he wants for the still-empty-not-yet-assembled fish tank in the office. So I got him a gift card for those damn fish.
Well, the gift card was thrown to the side (let’s not lie, this tank and fish are NEVER, EVER, GETTING BACK TOGETHER, LIKE EVER) but the pug mug was a hit!
Friday we finally left for Minneapolis: Road trip time! On our way up — since we have vastly different music tastes — we compromised and listened to 15 out of 72 chapters of the Game of Thrones audio book. Which, sidenote: Daenerys is only 13 years old in the book, and there are pretty graphic sex scenes being described to me by an old British man. Needless to say, it was super pervy, and I felt that I was committing a crime. Where were Ice-T and the rest of the SVU crew when this shit came out?! End sidenote.
Five and a half hours later we had finally arrived and checked into our downtown hotel (no urine was found in the bed, so already this trip was baller).
After freshening up, we headed out to begin our festivities. As we ventured out we noticed a bunch of rainbow flags on every building. Oh my god, we were in Minneapolis during PRIDE weekend. It’s like they knew I would be there and this was all for me! Anyhow, we started at this little joint down the street called Devil’s Advocate. They had 40 beers on tap and only sold meatballs. That’s my ideal heaven: beer and meatballs. I want to go to there.
We had planned on having only one beer, but it was raining out and we didn’t have an umbrella so we had two beers and four meatballs. That’s how we do. Once we left Devil’s Advocate, we trolled over to 112 Eatery for my husband’s birthday dinner. If any of you are ever in Minneapolis, go to there. I’m not religious, but what we ate there was a religious experience that I would like to keep between me, my husband and the food. Holy balls, it was amazing.
My husband was very satisfied with his birthday meal and also very full. We decided to walk around and explore for a bit before going back to birthday boozing. We stumbled upon the Gay 90’s, my most favorite club in town. We almost entered, except there was a foam party, and as I’ve learned from past foam party experiences, wearing jeans is not appropriate or effective for such events.
We settled on a tequila bar, proceeded to do a tequila tasting, got a little drunk, went to the bar next to the tequila bar and drank more, then head back to the hotel. Saturday was the Twins game, and it was a blowout in the first inning. We had amazing seats on the third base line, about 7 rows back in the sun, then shade. The best part about our seats were the people on either side of us: They liked to get up and get drinks as much as we did. Holla! At the seventh inning, we got up and met some friends from Omaha who also happened to be in town and at the game. Turns out they are friends with the guy I went to prom with my senior year aka we made out a lot back in the day.
We followed up the game with rooftop beers at Brit’s Pub, along with meeting two fabulous gay men who are parents of a PUG and were in town for PRIDE and who were also friends with one of the Omaha friends (follow that?!). Then we got some late-night pizza and turned in for the night.
Sunday, we debated going back to watch the 1 p.m. Twins game, but decided against it since we had a trip to IKEA in our future. FACT: IKEA can seriously end a marriage. That place sucks the life out of you. It took us more than TWO HOURS just to decide on an office desk. Scratch that. It took my husband more than two hours to decide on an office desk. The result, you ask? Well, he decided — after all this looking and measuring — that he would just design his own with materials that they had available for you to do such a project. You all obviously know where this is going … like Toad Town, the Koi pond and fish tank before it … NOT GONNA HAPPEN. Once we figured out the whole desk sitch, we then of course needed a new desk chair. After five-plus years of a yoga ball as a chair, my meatball is growing up and getting a big-boy chair. You thought picking out a desk was bad? Oh, my #&%$ing god. My husband sat in EVERY #*%$ING DESK CHAIR that IKEA had. EVERY. SINGLE. CHAIR. Do you know how many “every single chair” equals? No, let me inform you: a @&$%ing shit-ton of chairs!
By then, I was over this trip and wanted to get in the car and drive home to my little cute pugs. Finally, at 3 p.m., we loaded up the desk, chairs and wood hangers (what? we don’t use wire hangers in our house, pssh), we were back on the road. Once again, we tore through another 10 or so chapters of Game of Thrones, these ones far less pervy than the ride up. Nerdiest car ride for a road trip ever, maybe? Top 10 at least.
So here we are, back at home, back to work, back to real life, back to cute pugs and back to only an assembled desk chair and still no desk. Happy birthday, Baumer!
Kacie Baum is a professional partier, mother of two pugs, and the wife of Matt Baum. She tolerates the constant presence of the Two-Headed Nerd in her home each week. She did not write this bio. Pre-THN entries of Girl Meets Nerd can be found here.