The St. Paul Winter Carnival is a thing. They’ve been doing it for over a century, it pulls in almost a half million people a year, and the city makes millions. There really is a Snow Slide, a Queen of the Snows, an Annual Snow Stomp, a Moon Glow Pedestrian Parade, a blood drive, a castle, an outdoor baseball game, and beer.
My feelings on this phenomenon are mixed. On the one hand, I’m proud my fellow Minnesotans not only endure winter, they embrace it. Minnesotans own winter, okay? They have made winter their bitch. It is a glorious thing to see.
But, and not to be a traitor to my state, I don’t go near the festivities. I went once, and once was enough. It was cold. There was ice and snow all over the place, and the fact that it had been molded and/or sculpted into interesting things made it no less unbearably cold. Lines for hot beverages were torture (“I can see, I can see the steam rolling off the hot chocolate so close and yet so far and, ahhhhh, can’t this line move any faster? I can’t feel my face! I have not felt my face in half an hour! Oh, face, come baaaaaaack!”), most of the activities seem to be designed to make a person even colder, and I just . . . no. I admire the effort, and I want nothing to do with it. St. Paul Winter Carnival, I apologize. I just don’t get you.
Stoli Elit Himalayan Edition is also a thing. It really does come in a beautiful brown and gold bottle in a keepsake dark wooden box, and it really costs three thousand dollars. And on a list of most expensive vodkas in the world? Stoli doesn’t even come close. Man, if I have a few grand to burn, I’d never blow it on a bottle of vodka. I’d blow it on Coke and Funyuns.
Scribbling on babies with Sharpies is not cool. Seriously, just don’t. Even if they’re scented. Perhaps especially if they’re scented. The Sharpies, not the babies.
The state of Minnesota is shockingly cavalier about enforcing a timeline for its citizens to name newborn citizens.
The dreadful jigsaw puzzle Marc worked on can be found on Amazon and it’s actually called the World’s Most Difficult Jigsaw Puzzle. There are two kinds of people in the world: those who like jigsaw puzzles and those who hate and fear them. The World’s Most Difficult Jigsaw Puzzle is the thing of my nightmares. Proceed with caution.
Referring to Laura Goodman as the Anti-Antichrist isn’t mine; TV Tropes (tvtropes.org) did it first. And it was wonderful. I am filled with grinding envy that I didn’t think of it first. Grinding envy, however, provides the lubrication for my ambition. And, ugh, I just talked about lubricating myself.
I am determined to make zangst a thing.
The Game is a thing! One I lose all the time and, if you’re reading this, you have, too. Check it out here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Game_(mind_game).
The baggie of diamonds Betsy stumbles across are red diamonds, the rarest in the world. Also, am I the only one who thinks jewelers should just stop rhapsodizing about “Chocolate Diamonds”? Guys: they are brown. You’re selling rocks the color of mud. You are selling fancy gravel. Which is fine, but just . . . just own that, okay? Okay.
Silver Lamborghinis absolutely look like giant electric shavers. I’ve got nothing against the good people at Lamborghini (who are actually the good people at Volkswagen), but Betsy is quite right to mock Sinclair’s purchase.
I have nothing against Giada De Laurentiis. I think she is a lovely woman and a wonderful cook. I regret that my characters do not agree.
Finally, no matter how tempting it may be, faking your death is not cool, not least because of the inevitable paperwork nightmare.