Nissa Mitchell

Do you ever find yourself thinking, “Man, I wish I could read about beer, but I’ll die if I go that long without gay ennui”? Well, I’m the Minneapolis-based beer writer for you. Am I the best beer writer? No. Am I better than the beer writers for the Strib? Yes. Am I gay? Also yes. Duh. See above.

I’m sorry, how is it that so many Halloween playlists don’t include “Everyday Is Like Halloween” by Ministry? Are we letting the normies make our Halloween playlists?

Anyone know how a girl can get some 16 mm skirt/coat guard clips for her dang Dutch bike without paying €30 in shipping for what’s basically $2 of plastic?

Dreamstate Cafe’s bathroom mirrors are tall-girlophobic.

Remembering the time in third grade that a boy in my class was mean to me, so for our next creative writing assignment, I wrote a story about me and my friends touring the Titanic wreckage that ended with him being left behind at the bottom of the ocean. I got in trouble, but I stand by my art.

James Carville and Clintonian dems *are moderate Republicans*. They have more in common with the Republicans than the DSA, and they aren’t even coy about it—they say it out loud. They’re truly mind-bogglingly obtuse and mediocre people. Holy hell.

Overheard from some 8th graders at Ben & Jerry’s: “I heard that there was a rumor that he liked her.” Middle school, man. They’ve got rumors about rumors.

One of the fun things about being a parent is you can buy Pokémon fruit snacks for your kids and then decide you actually really like them and buy more for you and your partner to eat.

Me when I was young: See-through tops? I could never! Scandalous! Me at almost 40: Set 90s skank vibes at maximum.

Also also also, I paid less in bus fare than I would have paid to park, and I got through an episode of Dolly Parton’s America I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to finish.

There are a lot of vegans and vegetarians that scoff at eating an Impossible Whopper at Burger King because “eww, processed foods.” And it’s sad, because those folks clearly have a whopper-sized hole in their hearts, and their pride prevents them from seeing it.

Missed connection: you were the white man driving a large Dodge truck in the Graham parking garage at Mayo Clinic in Rochester with a license plate that said “NUBIANS.” I was the lesbian woman in the Toyota behind you who looked at you like 🧐, and I’d like to ask you some follow up questions.

lmao the piece literally argues children are the problem for wanting positive relationships with their parents

My youngest’s costume for Halloween is Wednesday Addams—with the agreement that I will be Morticia. Chat, help me convince @lauragmitchell.com to be Gomez and give me costume suggestions for her.

It’s a premonition. It’s 2030. I35 has been demolished. There are free city bike docks on every corner. MCBL training is mandatory for all residents. Only a matter of time until Bike God Mayor Laura Mitchell decrees Lake Street closed to car traffic. So say we all.

In normal English: Whoopsy doodles, I cancelled my MeUndies subscription because why the fuck would I give money to a company chasing the bigot-wizard nostalgia money in the year of our lord 2026.

TIL vasovagal syncope (fainting because your nervous system nopes out) is basically your body’s way of “turning it off and on again.”

What does it mean when your dog does this?

Watching “straight” women realize they’re gay never gets old.

Why is it that every police department seems to wish it was a protection racket instead?

I did another set of beers! They’re all from Summit! Which is facing foreclosure! What!?!?

The real social technology is “Da Gang” and “Consciously Hosting people.” Anyway this is why I hate the whole “you don’t owe other people anything” vein of self care discourse.