MN Monthly helps Edina name its neighborhoods, including "Botoxia" and "Spraytanistan" [GRAPHIC]

Categories: How We Live
Edina rect.jpg
"Botoxia"? Not buying there. "Trophywife Terrace"? That's a different story.
Edina is currently trying to name its neighborhoods. It's proven to be a controversial process -- proposed 'hood names like "Normandale" and "Edina Valley Estates" have drawn ire and sent city officials back to the drawing board more than once.

-- Woodbury and Edina are top extramarital affair locales in Twin Cities, says
-- Edina drunk driver refuses to put down burrito, offers bribe, blows .284, flips bird during mug
-- Susan McCarty of Edina made nephew, 11, ride in trunk, didn't want to get Lexus' seats wet

But the City Council still hopes to approve a neighborhood plan by January, and toward that end, Minnesota Monthly has offered a helping hand, coming up with unique and fitting names for each of the city's approximately 20 'hoods.

Here's a visual depiction:
Minnesota Monthly -- Hat-tip to Tim Gihring

That's pretty good, but we suggest one teeny-weeny revision. There has to be an AshleyMadisonland somewhere, right? At the least, it could be a subsection of Hockeymom Manor.

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swmnguy topcommenter

Where are all the pissed-off Edina residents, like there were about the "Judgmental Map of Minneapolis?"  Or maybe they don't log on to CityPages in Edina.  I'd think somebody could find an anti-jewish slur in "Noshville."  Or find "Hotmomia" to be intolerably sexist.


ND Hellfire; by H.W. Plainview Having endured the tumultuous winters and road side fireballs in Williston North Dakota, such conditions are a wonder to photograph, especially at night, and they are easily accessible. They are Fraccing (Drilling into the earth's dinosaur juiced mantle for usable crumbs for addicts of boomtown mania, they break the oil lose and collect the deposits, which are mixed with the chemicals they burn off, and voila, oil.) These friggin fraccers for gas in my homestate produced an earthquake. As reported by the us geological survey, there is a correlation between these drilling practices, and the'yre fraccing to Lucifer's domain for oil in north dakota. The fraccers say the oil process is different, but williston is the psychoactive midwestern epcot center of desperation; the heart of the oil beast they call the baaken. Somehow, after giving it a lot of thought, I thought that last winter I would claim my stake up there, or at least check it out. I had been watching Fargo a lot at the time, and felt stuck. So, I left it to the winds, and rode the longest urine-laden bus ever, up there. Brazilian girls and ibogaine would be ahead of me, but that was the farthest thing from my mind. I went up there with good intentions, and the capability of passing a hair follicle test, which major companies require for drug testing to work. It lowers their death inurance rate by proxy. Anywhoos, I had an interview to be a purchasing agent, which paid six figures, and the description very carefully and technically presented the position of buying up farms for oil by somekind of vernacular that made you hate textbooks, making it seemingly less evil. I'll put on a cowboy hat, and even the newspaper there was hiring. Somehow, I always knew they didnt want my stories though. And, an in depth "feel good story," about the chokecherry festival isn't my cup of tea either. First I had to survive the busride, and the first layover was in chicago.................... but that's another story, and so is minneapoils, but... I made it to Williston, late and broke. I had a mental map of the town, through cartography research. My cell phone didn't even work. I was out of my element, and when i hitvhed to wal mart, they didnt like me very much. that I could tell, So, I went to plan B. The library. I started hoofin it when a guy pulled over, gave me a ride, and loaned me $50. Heaven sent rejuvination for this seemingly randomly blessed town.. He was like a dirty little angel that said he had scabbed near my hometown. I am from a union family, and gladly took his money, but wanted nothing further from dropping me off with $50 at the library. I laid down in the grass and thou I'd have a nap in the cold temperatures, but I was covered and ready for it. I laid down 3 minutes, and a dude popped out of his car, and said, you want a beer? How could I say no, i need a place to sleep, and this dude was young and small; unintimidating, and a member of the worldwide skateboarding union. We ended up drinking away all of our money right up until my interview, in which I put 7$ in the gas tank or something, and we had moved his truck to his employers to drink beer and joke and nearly lose our bowels on each other and have a merry time talking about skating and punk rock, and trying to gross one another out. Then, we ran out of god's gold. I went back to the oil company, and they told me that they had chosen a local man from Montana for the job. They did offer me a job on a rig though. I would go out the next morning. But I didn't go out. A young man lost his life in an explosion before we were supposed to train. It tripped me out, because here we were, this mix of people trying to make a buck and you could inadvertantly harm or murder your co-worker. Just a coulpe of weeks ago, a construction worker was crushed to death. It's a dark dark place, amid that was a time in which I made the decision that my life wasn't worth risking for the soul cause of a dollar. For a story, yes, I will put myself in harms way, as though I am Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now. And I dodged trough the town that drops you off at the strip clubs that are adjacent to the train station. I filled out my application for the Williston Herald, that hadn't reported on the death, and they also minimally reported on a semi-crash that killed a man earlier. part 2 soon


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