diaper blowouts & brunch



Last month, something magical happened. My friend's baby had a giant diaper explosion at an art fair. 


Funnily enough, that wasn't the amazing part. 

A woman walked up to us as my friend was wrist deep in baby poop. She was carrying business cards, or maybe coupons, but it was clear she was selling something.

"Hi," she said, not noticing the sight (or smell) in front of her. My friend and I shared a telepathic moment. Does this lady really think now is the time or place for soliciting?

But then she said the words no millenial can resist:

"Would you be interested in a free brunch?"

Um, do we look like two twenty-something girls covered in shit? Of course we were interested, lady!



The restaurant in question was called Pinstripes, which I knew about only because it's in the same shopping center as two places where I have spent far too much time: West Elm and The Container Store. It has a bowling alley, a bocce court, and a fire pit with complimentary blankets... swoon.


Something interesting/amazing about Minneapolis that I've never seen in the south: fancy brunch buffets. If you invited me to a brunch buffet in Louisiana, I would assume you were inviting me to Ryan's or Golden Corral or Shoney's and I would politely decline. But here, brunch buffets are a completely different animal. There are mini waffles with strawberry balsamic cream! Gourmet biscotti! And, inexplicably, a chocolate fountain. Without fail, every buffet has one of these.  Which always makes it feel like an unimaginative wedding and like maybe I should start practicing my chicken dance.


Anyway, this Pinstripes brunch was pretty delicious and had the added bonus of making you feel like you were eating in a treehouse. I approved. 

The moral of the story: wake up and smell the baby poop. Someone might be trying to give you a free brunch.