How Not To Embarrass Yourself In The Presence Of A (Local) Celebrity

Once upon a time earlier this week, 2G4C attended a book launch event for a Local Celebrity/Role Model. With hearts aflutter we waited 45 minutes to meet LC/RM* and purchase her debut book. Not much for Celeb encounters, we didn’t quite know what to do or say. The aftermath of said interaction was caught on cellphone film.

  • Introduce yourself to Celebrity, especially if you’re at a meet and greet event, before you start spewing nonsense or ask for a photograph/autograph/polygraphy/barograph/whatever.
  • Play it cool and be yourself. If you are naturally uncool or happen to loose the shard of cool you do have at the sight of Celebrity, have something somewhat smart/witty/flattering prepared as plan B.
  • Drink alcohol prior to interaction with Celebrity if you’re feeling particularly uncool and especially awkward. Where we fumbled, in hindsight, was opting for ice cold kombuchas instead of ice cold brewskis prior to conversing. Perhaps one beer each would’ve loosened us up just enough to have a pleasant interaction. Note: this tip is only an option if you have a planned interaction; it’s best to steer clear of celebrities if you happen upon them in the wild (read up on this masterfully illustrated wikiHow if you’re hoping to meet Celebs in the wild).
  • Dab your face with blotting paper/an old receipt/napkin/your shirt/toilet paper/moar makeup so it’s free of nervous perspiration/pepperoni grease from your sad lunch. Photo opts are best with matte faces and clenched smiles.
  • Remember: Celebs are just regular people but with better hair and things to say. They probably once fell over themselves while meeting a role model too.



* LC/RM = the horribly talented, inspirational, relatable, rad, kind, funny human, Nora McInerny Purmort. Pick up a copy of her debut book, It’s Okay to Laugh: (Crying is Cool Too), and read along with 2G4C Book Club Ahoy-hoy!

Left: Stunning Awkward Rebounder   Center: Stunning LC/RM   Right: Stunning Greasy Pizza

Behind the Closet: Ellen Roth


Ellen and I met up on a titty-freezing Saturday morning for a much-needed catch up session over extravagant unicorn milk lattes at a favorite coffee shop.  We reflected on the impending demise of our 20s and pondered breathing a puff of life back into 2G4C (as we always seems to do in the new year).  What followed was an afternoon rollick through the storied closet of one of Pillsbury Avenue’s fashion greats, Ellen V. Roth.  

I asked her, in essence, “Where the f*ck did you get such divine style?

MWS: Ellen, I know you’ve been stylish since you started dressing yourself. Who have been your style icons through the years?

EVR: Firstly, I don’t consider myself particularly stylish: I just happen to occasionally fancy dressing up in outlandish outfits as if I were on a stage. I will admit I’m incredibly  #blessed with a BABE ALERT mother who has impeccable taste and an eye for style (voted “Best Dressed” in junior high and she STILL knows what’s up). Other icons/inspirations throughout the years include, and are not limited to: In Living Color’s Fly GirlsdELiA*s,  ​Pantone​, and The Man Repeller.

MWS: What are some regrettable style phases you’ve gone through?

EVR: The Wall Shirt Era (1997 – 2002 CE) was the lowest point in my style evolution. Embarrassed of my growing chesticles and waist size, I attempted to hide everything by wearing unfortunately large shirts and (kick ass) wide leg jeans. We all know that baggy + tight = hawt and baggy + baggy = sad sack of potatoes. The Wall Shirt Era marked a prolonged, awkward, transitional period in my personal life and style.

MWS: How do you think Future Ellen would describe your current style?

EVR: Thrifted grandma at a Robyn concert in Bangkok​.

MWS: If you found out that Future Ellen wears only Cheetos-stained sweatpants and works from home, what would you want to say to her (don’t worry though, I’m sure she doesn’t).

EVR: Ellen, it’s time you put down the Cheetos and​ confront your addiction to monosodium glutamate. Shed those fingerpainted, orange-stained sweats and wrap your sad body in sequins, fur, and a tight pair of spandex leggings and PLUCK THE DAY.

MWS: Do you have any forecasts for 2016?​ ​​

EVR: Cloudy with a chance of ladyballs.

​Then I took 400 photos and felt so very alive with the magic of Ellen.


Above: Fur vest; Jr. League Thrift Store, Sioux City. Sequined pants; gift from a girlfriend. Clogs; Sven.

Ellen’s ready for a day of volunteering at a Habitat for Humanity build in this chic ensemble of squirrel and sequin.  Who says you need to dress like a frumpy disaster while swinging a hammer?

“Oh, the humanity.”


Above: Dress; vintage, handmade hand-me-down from cousin’s mother. Shoes; John Fluevog.

Ellen’s ready for an afternoon of cruising in her friend’s husband’s classic convertible followed by an evening of classic eating at Annie’s Parlor in this paralyzingly short ensemble. Bring a towel to sit on, girl; you don’t want your new butt tattoo to rip off on that hot vinyl!

“Double butterscotch malt, please!”


Above: Hat; study abroad trip in China. Cannibal Corpse Tee; ex-boyfriend collection. Skirt; gift from a girlfriend.

Ellen’s ready for her cousin’s baby’s baptism in this whimsical ensemble of grotesque metal band tee and festive hat ensemble. The contrast of innocence and flesh-ripping zombie imagery almost begs the pastor to perform an emergency adult baptism!

“In one spirit we were baptized by thy word. Even Ellen.”


Above: Dress; vintage hand-me-down from cousin’s mother who may or may not have originally worn to sorority formal. Boots; hand-me-down motorcycling accessory from Mother Roth.

Ellen’s ready for a Babes in Toyland show at First Ave in this navy and black, don’t-talk-to-me ensemble.  Feisty femmes, beer, punk rock.  That’ll put hair on your lady bits!

“Check out that Handsome Gretel, but don’t talk to her or she’ll rip your face off.”


Above: Tee; study abroad trip in Japan.  Windbreakers; Savers. Slippers; Rewind Minneapolis.

Ellen’s ready for a Saturday morning nap during our photo shoot in this neon ensemble.

“Breaking wind in windbreakers.”


Above: Dress; Unique Thrift.

Ellen’s ready for …? We’re not sure, as this is free-loving garment has spent years hiding in the bowels of her closet.  In any case, we think she’d make Christ the Redeemer proud.

“Peace, love, and 2 pounds of embroidery thread.”


Above: Coat; gift from a girlfriend who inherited from grandma. Shoes; Rewind Minneapolis.

Ellen’s ready to eat a crumbly scone at book club in this chic, grandmother-approved mohair ensemble. Don’t forget to brush those crumbs off before your date with Gorgon Heap later!


We’re All Odd. Own It.

Molly and I met during our oddest years: college. We embraced it, encouraged it, and amplified it. Now I yearn for it.

Cheers to remembering that growing older does not correlate with growing duller. May this snapshot of Molly’s interpretive performance of “Space Oddity” in 2006 remind us all to stay strange and embrace the odd #thankyoudavidbowie

Hearts + Ashes to Ashes Farts

Space Oddity

Iron Filly: Preliminary A$$e$$ment$ for FITs

It was a bright and crisp Sunday morning on the corner of 28th and Lyndale. Sprits were high and hangovers were absent – a true rarity for us on a Sabbath morning for the past 9 years – as we met outside the doors of The Shed with Couch* ML, eldest offspring of and understudy to Lion Bob, for a morning of physical fitness testing and thigh burning fun.

It was prelim testing day for us Fillies in Training (FITs); with tasks at hand, Couch got down to business and made us warm up like a couple of pubey teens. At this point in the pursuit of equestriandom, we’d each been on the workout train for a handful of weeks (see visual below) and could already tell that our bodies were growing stronger as we focused on pumping iron and ridding our bodies of booze, cheese, and sins. Yee-haw, little Fillies!

cabbage patch

We ponied up and got to getting. We were full of the Spirit, aka endorphin high from wearing patterned spandex, and were amazed at how “well” we did at not dying and raged on finishing most of our preliminary assessments. For the assessments we didn’t complete within the walls of The Shed’s sanctuary of fitness, we finished on our own #HonorCodeForLife

Here’s how we fared:

Goal Molly Ellen
Run 1.5 miles Faster than 12:40 15:42 15:20
Run 600 yards Faster than 2:15 2:41 2:38
1 Minute Toe Push-ups Minimum of 35 11 13
Continual Body Squats 200 95 140
Straight Plank Minimum of 2 minutes 1:47 1:03
Back Plank Minimum of 2 minutes 1:31 :39
Left Side Plank Minimum of 1:30 minutes 1:05 :57
Right Side Plank Minimum 1:30 minutes 1:04 1:00
Hang-clean-to-press* 75% of body weight
Horizontal Pull-ups*

*In limbo.

Watch us struggle!


 Resolute Roth pushups her self to glory as Couch ML insists she achieve perfect form by touching titty to towel.


Neon Nelson collapses after a whopping 11 toe pushups; 10 more than her previous PR (that is how fit kids say ‘personal record’, or so my gym observations tell me).


Already a squat queen, Ellen taps into a mystical zen state of mind as she kills it with an astounding 140 Continual Body Squats.  Only 60 more to go, FIT!


A disciplined school girl, Molly holds still in a plank until her abs cry out for mercy.  13 more seconds to Filly-dom, little one!  Now go get on those Push-ups…

In conclusion, we FITs have some work to do. And if you’re goal-/prize-oriented mongers like us, you know we’ll get there come hell or high snow (especially if we promise ourself goodies like custom Iron Filly t-shirts, headbands, sweatbands, towels, water bottles, carrot salads and salt licks once we reach the finish line.  CUSTOM HEADBANDS?!  We’ll definitely go the distance for those).

Want in on the prize/fitness-glory wagon?  All you have to do is devote a little of your time, sweat, and pony heart to becoming an Iron Filly.  E-mail us at if you’re interested in saddling up- it’s not too late (…but it almost is, so get on it)!


Hearts + Farts / GIT IT


*I accidentally asked Maggie, via Gchat, if I could refer to her as “Couch ML” when I mean to type “Coach ML”. End of story. Couch it shall remain.


Drop Down, Get Your Filly™ On

​Spring has (half) sprung and so has the button on my jeans. Wait. I DON’T WEAR JEANS. I guess spring has sprung and the patterns on my leggings have stretched to white. It’s time to shed the elastic waistbands and tarp-like draperies of yester season and Iron Filly™ our way into seedtime* happiness. Molly and I are, once again for the millionth attempt, on the cusp of committing to fitness in preparation for the spring hornies, sleeveless dresses, and sweaty summer nights. And the only way we’re going to get there – at least for this year – is by way of the Iron Filly™.

Once upon a time, our dear friend Maggie, cherub of great hair and smooth skin, told us of a fitness badge of honor called Iron Filly™. Developed in the bowels of a Casper, Wyoming high school by Lion Bob** – Maggie’s father, award-winning physical educator, and Voice of the Mustangs – the Iron Filly™ is a set of physical fitness tests specifically designed for pubescent high school girls. The Iron Filly™ encourages the youth of womanhood to challenge themselves both physically and mentally as they spend months training to earn their badge as an Iron Filly™.

Even though we trade eye shadow glitter sticks and incessantly talk about boys, we are no longer pubescent high school girls. Back in the glory days of bangs and braces, neither of us had the option in Town of One Stoplight and Three Trailer Park Suburb to even try to earn Iron Filly™ status. And being the band nerds we were (and still are, for once a band nerd, always a band nerd), neither of us made physical prowess a priority during our pubey years; brass and woodwind trumped all in those days.

Then along came an opportunity to help turn a couple of plush, bass and treble clef-loving ladies into equestrian nymphs. Out of the goodness of his physical educator heart, Lion Bob took time out of retirement to coach up and rework the Iron Filly™ program to accommodate two late-twenty-something flapjacks. We gave ourselves three months to train for the Iron Filly™ – half the amount of time that Lion Bob used to give pubey high schoolers – culminating with a FINAL TEST in early July. SUMMER SANS FLUBBIN’, HERE WE COME!

iron filly

As Minnesota continues to trudge through winter’s lingering hell, we got a jump-start on training separately and completed preliminary Filly™ testing to gauge how much work we each need to put in over the next three months***. Below is the list of physical fitness tests that we must – AND WILL– complete in July in order to call ourselves true Iron Fillies™.

  • Run 1.5 miles:    < 12:40 minutes
  • Run 600 yards:   < 2:15 minutes
  • 1 minute of toe push-ups:    > 30
  • Body-weight squats:    200 continual reps
  • Straight plank:    > 2 minutes
  • Back plank:        > 2 minutes
  • Side plank:       > 1.5 minutes on each side
  • Hang-clean-to-press with 75% of your body weight
  • 1 minute of pull-ups done with a red exercise band – We may do an alternative assessment instead of the pull-ups

Sure, you could passively read about our Filly™ flops and victories from the comfort of your chip-crumb laden sweatpants that you’ve had since freshman year of college, but maybe it’s time to get up and join us in the challenge! Email if you’re in the mood for a mind- slash body-altering challenge in which you could win terrific spandex prizes while being supported by a community of Fillies on the rise. We’ll email you Iron Filly™ specifics, lots of cyber love, and fun chin shotz!

Please note that the Iron Filly™ program is designed for women. If you’re a man and would like to participate, we’ll consult Lion Bob to adjust the fitness assessments for your peen-wielding body. We also recommend that people wanting to take on the challenge should build a little bit of a fitness base, if you don’t already have one, before diving into the preliminary tests.

Morphin' Time

Hearts + Farts / GIT IT

*Seedtime, as Encarta Dictionary tells me, is the time of year when seeds are planted. In the Midwest, I think that means spring.

** Fun fact: Lion Bob was one of the country’s first physical educators to develop women’s-only PE courses based on the fact that women’s physiology is different from men’s. I am woman, HEAR ME ROAR.

***Stay tuned for our Iron Filly™  preliminary testing photos, expletives, and results.

Doin’ it to the 80’s

Dearest Readers,

I set out to make a staggeringly perfect workout playlist partially for me to use in my ploy to dominate at the gym, partially to share with you all! How nice of me.  The workout playlist has always been a struggle for me– an illusive beast– as most of my music elicits the following symptoms:

and, most importantly 

  • boot tappin’ all around the town (namely to see these guys on Mondays at the Turf Club)

Are any of these symptoms conducive to working out?  No, sir/madame! If you’ve had the patience to indulge in a slice of my (above) YouTube favs, good for you.  But that does nothing in our quest to birth a perfect musical orb of heart-pumping, fist-punching (sure, why not?) jam awesome!!  URG!!! My disdain for even saying words like “heart pumping” and “jam awesome” PROVES WHY I HATE  HEART-PUMPING, JAM AWESOME music.  I would rather clip my grandma’s toenails to some nice Hank Williams than listen to a remix of any of those schiesty KDWB songs.  SORRY.  Anyway, it’s good for those you who like that kind of jam, cause Hank really doesn’t make one want to do much other than eat fried okra and wallow, so you’ve got a HUGE workout playlist advantage. (But good luck in your next cowboy brawl.)

Molly Nelson’s asshole-ness aside, I REALLY DID try to create a successful, well-rounded playlist to share.  Then I went through and deleted some songs to refine it… and I ended up with overwhelmingly 80’s crap.  Yes, we all know that even great musicians like Bob Dylan sucked in the 80’s, but I’ll be damned if I don’t want to sweat into my neon sweat bands when I PUMP THIS STUFF.  (You’ll need Spotify, but hey, it’s probably time to jump the wagon if you haven’t yet).  It’s not the great revelation I was hoping for, in fact you all probably jam out to Madonna’s Immaculate Collection on ellipticals across the USA already, but hey, at least you know I’m not trying to burn cals on the Patsy Cline plan anymore.  And isn’t that worth something?

What are your favorite gym jams?!


Sassy Minx Gym Wardrobe: Sweaty Hot Workout

By some stroke of luck, I showed up at the gym yesterday looking like a total babe.  I mean, still in gym appropriate clothes, but pretty alriiiight considering the gym is usually the place for anti-fashion (at least the YWCA in my historic St. Paul neighborhood is… not to mention that in my opinion, most ‘active wear’ is ugly as sin- more on that later).  And I’m not saying this to boast of my hotness or encourage you fine readers to reassure me I’ve been hot all along– I know that.  Ok, so maybe now I’m boasting.  Anyway, I just noticed yesterday because gym foxiness is usually not the case.

My typical ‘keeping up appearances’ protocol at the gym (it is a public place, after all):

  • Do your clothes smell like you’ve just come from a church fish fry?
  • Does your greasy hair look worse than your 7th grade science teacher’s comb-over?
  • Did you just eat a lot of raw cauliflower and hard-boiled eggs and chase it with a beer or two?
  • Do you have stains from 2+ different foods/beverages on your shirt?
  • Are you wearing pizza sauce spattered glasses that constantly slide down your face?

Then I ask myself: can you answer yes to three or more of these questions?  If so, you should probably stay home and catch up on Project Runway and make popcorn.  Buuut, EH F*CK IT!  GET YOUR ASS TO THE GYM!  Inevitably, I avoid looking at my oatmeal-stained, beer-bloated self in the mirror and still try to enjoy my workout, but I am left thinking “Is this all there is?  Is that how it’s gonna be? Alas, I wish I were crocheting and listening to a Peter, Paul & Mary record right now.”

Yesterday, it hit me that my accidental gym hotness was actually making me workout harder while feeling more like my normal, fun self and not like frumpy, spinster, gym alter ego.  I vowed to remember this foxy wardrobe/workout quality correlation for my evolving library (well, pamphlet) of fitness tips.

Let me emphasize, I am not advising you to find your gym fox style to impress other people.  F*ck that!  (lots of f*cks today, sorry, offended people who read Ellen’s and my blog… poor choice on your part)  You need to do it for yourself!  The gym is plastered with mirrors and if you’re not enchanted with the image reflected back at you–if she doesn’t looks like she’s f*cking shredding it–your treadmill stride is going to be a little lackluster, your bike pedaling more like that of the man with the balding Jew-fro reading a Scientific American next to you.

Maybe we’ll alter the ol’ cliche to: “Don’t dress for the level of fitness that you have, dress for the level you wish to attain.”