It's not you, it's me. I haven't stopped writing about dumb stuff; I'm just doing it somewhere else now! If you still want to read my insane ramblings, click here. Don't worry, it's SFW (unless your work will fire you over hot sluts, not-the-one Abuelitas, hood rat stuff, or Kardashians).
I've been writing sketches.
They're not good.
Actually, change that. Some are okay. But most are a nightmare of bad ideas and difficult-to-process. Here are some of the sketches that haven't made it far enough to be adopted by a nice family.
- Two roommates, one is Jesus. The first roommate confronts Jesus about that stupid Footprints story, claiming that Jesus is only elabroating on a story where he took his dog for a walk on the beach and the dog got tired, so he carried it.
- A 4:20 conspiracy theorist who claims that 4:20 aka Weed Day (or Weed Hour) was only invented to distract us from 9/11. 4 times 2 is 8, which is 1 less than 9. Plus another 1 to represent a joint.
- President Cat. An American election is rocked by the news that ill-informed citizens vote a cat into office. The cat was put on the ballot as a joke by a senile Republican senator. The cat wears tiny suits.
- Freaks and Geeks and Riverdale. This is exactly as bad as you think it would be.
- Billboard Kings. Two douchebags who sell billboard real estate.
- Two real estate agents who's selling point comes from two things: they're fraternal twin brothers named Brad and Chad, and they have an inside scoop on which homes had violent murders committed in them. "We tell you what others try to hide, cause we're honest and we're twins!"
- A company that buys old cellphones just so they can read your pathetic text messages.
- Dads of Style. Like Sons of Anarchy, but with baby boomers on scooters.
- Shitty Tales of Horror: a show like The Twilight Zone that has real life scary, but mostly shitty, stories. Finding a roommate on Craigslist. Trying to buy a used bed from Goodwill. Being asked to watch a friend's terrible short film. Having to go poo in a public washroom at a crappy mall.
- Moliday, the Mom Holiday. A resort designed specifically for Moms. Everyday you wake up and are given dummies to dress and feed and "send to school". Then all the Moms join each other in the great room to watch Live with Kelly and Michael or The View. Once they're done, they can choose to either drive to the mall to buy shit from Yankee Candle or have coffee at Panera Bread. In the evening, there's a low-impact group Zumba class and everyone shares stories about their most successful child.
- Windchimes, a resort for late-in-life lesbians.
- A focus group of people testing out new neck-bandannas for dogs.
- A lady who keeps saying "I'm not too fussy about...". A lot of quick cuts of the lady saying things like "I'm not too fussy about the way she handed us our bill", "I'm not too fussy about the way that young man looked at me", "I'm not too fussy about having diarrhea on the plane".
- Air Buddies 6: Buddies Be Trippin! The gang of 5 retriever puppies find themselves in the middle of "the hood" with no way to get home. Their only hope is to make friends with a rag-tag group of strays. Yes, there is a chihuahua who keeps saying "Loco, man!" and he's voiced by Carlos Mencia.
- Special wedding ring. It has everything! Celtic knots, pieces of moon rock, a diamond from the Kate Hudson/Anne Hathaway classic Bride Wars, it's platinum and gold and nickle-free stainless steel, it plays Etta James "At Last", the inside is engraved with Lord of the Rings shit.
I've taken to spending a lot of time at Starbucks. I feel like as long as I'm out of my apartment, I'm doing something productive. I'm not saying that what I'm doing at Starbucks is productive; as I type this, I'm listening to Weird Al and sipping on the remains of an iced green tea while I try to think of jokes. If I was at home, I'd be on hour 5 of a Netflix marathon, so really, you be the judge.
I see a lot of people at Starbucks. It's at a shitty corner of Sunset Blvd, so you can always expect some real garbage people. Speaking of crazies, I just whipped my head around frantically to look out the window because it got dark really quickly and it's only 7:56. I'm very confused. Isn't it supposed to stay light out till 10:00pm in Los Angeles? That can't be right. Anyways, here are the real looney-bins at Starbucks this evening.
There's a guy over near the bar where they give out the custom drinks and he's rooting through an open suitcase. It's a small black carry-on and he's looking at it like it's the first time he's opened it. Maybe it is? Maybe he stole it from the bus station. He's wearing over-stuffed cammo pants and about 12 black t-shirts. He just put another one on. Sealing up the suitcase now, and hiding it under the bar. You'd be almost sure he's homeless, except he's working on a better laptop than mine, which means he at least has half his shit together.
The guy beside me spent nearly 2 hours on the phone with either eBay or PayPal (I am still not entirely sure). He kept arguing that they wouldn't refund his money/wouldn't put through a purchase/something crackpot sounding. Over and over again he kept mentioning that his dad just died and his mom got sick, so he's come to Los Angeles to clear out her storage locker, and all the banks around here are Bank of America and he doesn't trust them. He also keeps claiming there's a glitch on the Amazon site. What? What's the glitch? He never specifies. Now he's playing online poker so loudly that another patron had to ask him to turn it down. As I write this, he's taking a Hooters commemorative pin off a paper backing and pinning it to his shirt.
There's a fairly normal looking guy sitting back towards the bathrooms playing cards and drinking out of a 2L jug of water. Oh, now he's standing up and getting ready to leave. Don't forget your jug!
There's an older hispanic man who is always at this Starbucks working away on a laptop. He also has a dog-eared copy of the dictionary on the table. He's constantly making eyes at slutty-looking girls who come in. Today he gave his card to a very slutty-looking gym rat. It had the worst logo I've ever seen. It was white with a black film reel and film cascading across the top. I guess he's supposed to be an agent or a talent scout? Oh my god, this city is depressing.
UPDATE: Hooters pin Amazon trouble phone call is now reading a magazine.
There is a very fancy business man. He's wearing a nice grey suit with a red tie and a white shirt and good leather shoes. He has nice glasses. His car is outside and it's a red, white, and grey Mini Cooper. Oh my god. He twinsies'ed with his own car. He got a ticket for parking too long and he whipped it off his car with such a flourish it looked like an Olympic event.
There is a big fat guy who's drank two trenta (you know, the mammoth size) caramel frappucinnos. Those are like 1200 calories each. I am afraid for him. I want to give him a hug and tell him that water sucks, but sometimes it's necessary.
There is a girl who looks exactly like Naya Rivera, but isn't. Hollywood sucks. You either look like yourself, or you look like someone famous. But no one wants to look like themselves here. Am I already Hollywood-jaded? I think I might be. BITCH I MIGHT BE. I've been in Starbucks too long.
There is an old man in a bucket hat who is here every single time I'm here. He's writing something on his laptop. I'd like to believe it's a novel, but in all likelihood it's just pages and pages of hjfdshajkdhfsjkfh.
UPDATE: Sleazy hispanic man is looking at me. Maybe he's looking to expand his stable of sluts by lowering the bar? I see you boo.
There is a table with two men, two women. The men are in their 40s, overweight, wearing chinos and golf shirts. They're talking about iPhones. One of the guys said "The iPhone is a beautiful device". What? Oh my god, who says that? Sitting with them are two women, late 20s/early 30s. Both wearing 4" heels, very tight tube dresses. They both look like tightly-packed sausages. The one girl is wearing black satin and it has tons of crummy silver studs on it. The other is wearing a white patterned dress with black mesh side panels. She's not wearing a bra, but she is wearing high-waisted Hanes underwear. It looks like the world's shittiest date. It could be two of the world's shittiest prostitutes. It's definitely the world's most depressing table at Starbucks.
Another table has an odd coupling. Older man, 50s. Salt and pepper beard. Grey golf shirt. Short, but also wide. He looks like he farts a lot during sex. His lady is slim, Asian, long pretty hair. Fashionably dressed. She's helping him on his laptop. They're filling out a gift card together. Again, not entirely sure what is going on here. I think they may be married. But it feels wrong. It feels like watching the backwards-stair-walking scene from The Exorcist.
A family just walked in and the dad is wearing a fanny pack. Good job dad; you're wearing the uniform that says "I am not from here". All you need is your wife to be trying to make heads or tails of a Hollywood Star Map. You're definitely not going to get robbed on La Brea.
There's a girl, no makeup, working off an ancient Macbook. Wearing an Earwolf t-shirt, cut-off jean shorts, a grey cardigan. She just finished listening to Whitney's "I'm Every Woman". She's been nursing the same drink for three-and-a-half hours. It's time for her to go home and tuck into some Netflix.
Your mind immediately cut to Chris Brown jumping in his car with a Louisville Slugger, headed for Tyler Farr's house, right? So the only reason we're taking about this garbage is because it was the most repeated song on my road trip across the US. In some parts of the country I'd only be able to get one or two clear radio stations: New Country or Republican Talk Radio. Since I'd rather blow my brains out all over the dashboard than listen to a 90-year-old Republican compare abortions to the Holocaust, I'd listen to New Country stations. Of course, since the radio gods really hate me, they'd make sure that any time I turned on the radio, I'd be catching the tail end of a Top 10 list. And who was always #1? Tyler Farr's classic-in-the-making, perfect for a slow-dance, country ballad "Redneck Crazy". Have you been looking for the perfect daddy-daughter dance for a Quinceanera? A beautiful ballad to eulogize your recently deceased mother? Look no further! Tyler Farr has written a song he should be truly proud of. Not only does it make him sound like a Jason-level psycho, but it also serves as a permanent reminder for all women in the future to never, ever engage in a relationship with Tyler Farr.
Is it really that bad? I don't know. You be the judge. Let's break down these lyrics, shall we?
Gonna drive like hell through your neighbourhood
Park this Silverado on your front lawn
Crank up a little Hank, sit on the hood and drink
I'm about to get my pissed off on
First off, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that neither Tyler Farr nor his lady live right in the middle of Manhattan, so the neighborhood he's driving like hell through is probably a residential subdivision, and quite frankly that's unsafe. Have you ever tried to drive recklessly through a neighbourhood? I have, and it only lasts a few feet before you eat shit over a speed bump. Also, parking a truck on a front lawn? Something tells me this is not so much of a threat as it is just a local custom. Tyler Farr then jacks up the Hank (Hank who? Hank Hill? Hank Williams? Uncle Hank from Breaking Bad? Be specific, dum dum) which, again, stupid move. Have fun draining the battery in your truck while you treat your truck hood like a fucking picnic blanket and drink alone. But the best part is the line "I'm about to get my pissed off on". That sounds like emotional procrastination. I'm about to feel angry; right after another 4 episodes of Homeland, k?
I'm gonna aim my headlights into your bedroom windows
Throw empty beer cans at both of your shadows
I didn't come here to start a fight, but I'm up for anything tonight
You know you broke the wrong heart baby, and drove me redneck crazy
Jesus, does this guy's dad own a Chevy dealership? Clearly a dead battery is no worry for Tyler Farr. Just turn on the lights, crank up the radio, plug in a George Foreman grill, call for a tow when your truck won't start. All the while he's drinking so much he's able to throw multiple beer cans at her front window, which means he either came prepared with a bag full of cans, or he's slamming beers so fast that he's able to throw multiple cans before she gets up and calls the cops. Look, I'm not saying Tyler Farr isn't an intelligent guy, but something tells me he's no stranger to pounding beers at a rapid pace. I mean, the guy made the decision to drag race his truck through a family-filled neighborhood (I like to imagine he hit several of those plastic SLOW DOWN turtle signs on the way over).
Let's talk for a second about his claim that he didn't come to his lady's house to start a fight. Oh, fuck right off, Tyler. What a pussy. He's the type to antagonize a woman, but he's also the type who will throw beer cans at a dude and do loud burnouts in his truck on the front lawn and then get all "HE HIT ME! DID YOU SEE THAT??" when the guy comes out and knocks him on his ass.
So he's claiming she broke his heart. Oh my god, what a baby. If he was a teenager in the suburbs, he'd be cutting himself and crying along to The Cure. Although I will say this: I was cheated on once and I wanted revenge. I was also, like, 19-years-old and a girl, so really - Tyler Farr has the emotional control of a 19-year-old girl.
Wish I knew how long it's been going on
How long you've been getting some on the side
Nah, he can't amount to much by the look of that little truck
Well he wont be getting any sleep tonight
So it sounds like Tyler's lady has been fucking on the low for a while and he didn't catch on. Excuse me? Really? Well, look - if I've learned anything from Maury, it's that not-so-smart people take a while to pick up on things. Again, not insinuating that Tyler Farr is a dum dum or a fucking idiot. I would never. But the best insult he was able to come up with was that the guy has a small truck. So he's saying that big truck = big penis? Holy shit, Tyler Farr is that guy who buys a Ferrari because he's over-compensating. Forget the dick-joke for a second, Tyler Farr just pulled a rich-high-school-asshole by making fun of his car. Jesus Tyler, what's next? You're going to call him out for wearing knockoff Abercrombie? Then he wraps it all up with saying that guy won't be getting any sleep tonight. Wait, you just said you didn't come to fight. I'm confused.
Did you think I'd wish you both the best, endless love and happiness
You know that's just not the kind of man I am
I'm the kind that shows up at your house at 3am
Tyler Farr, king of the rhetorical questions! No one thinks you're going to wish them the best of luck, dummy. The only person who would react to an affair like that would be someone who suffered a severe brain injury. But I'm starting to think I know why his lady would cheat on him. She's got a controlling, hot-head boyfriend who may or may not be an alcoholic and who is a terribly irresponsible driver. He loves fighting and bragging about his truck. She's scared to leave him out-right because - DUH - he'd probably go Redneck Crazy on her ass and put her in the Redneck Hospital (aka Walmart walk-in clinic) so she hooks up with a nice guy who drives a sensible truck so that when her asshole boyfriend (Tyler Farr) finds out, she has a little bit of protection when he shows up at her house at 3am, drunk off his face, ready to fight.
I would really love to hear the girl's version of this song, or even the other guy. I feel like if it was the girl, the lyrics would be like:
Finally I'm safe in my home, got my dog and a sweet man
I'm blinded by highbeams shining through my bedroom window
Oh shit, it's my asshole boyfriend
I've told him sixteen times we're done, but he's too fucking stupid to process big words
Also, at some times, don't you feel like Tyler Farr is trying to write the male version of Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats"? Except it doesn't work, because getting revenge on a cheating man is very different from terrorizing a woman. Carrie Underwood: cheeky! Tyler Farr: somebody please call the women's shelter, you may need to free up a bed.
So there we have it! What does it say about middle America that this is their favourite song right now? "Yeah, play the one about the guy who gets drunk and goes to his girlfriend's house at 3am to kill her and her new boyfriend!" It's like someone wrote music and lyrics to the OJ Simpson/Nicole Brown saga. Not exactly heartwarming. But trust me, it's better to imagine that than to imagine that his girlfriend is Gretchen Wilson singing "Redneck Woman". Honestly, don't listen to that song; it will make you start to sympathise with Tyler Farr. NO! But really, don't listen to either song unless you really hate yourself.
I'm a grown baby. If you put me in a car, two things will happen: I will get carsick, and then I will fall asleep. It's something I assumed I would grow out of, but here I am - nearly 30 years old - rolling a paper lunch bag over a plastic grocery bag in preparation for a trip to my parent's house. That's the trick, really; you need both paper and plastic. Plastic for the obvious reason, you don't want the bag to leak. Paper because you want something with texture and structure to grip with your hands. Vomiting into a plastic bag is awful; I still remember doing so in the back of my parent's Buick station wagon after my mother has played Russian roulette and guessed which bag had the hole. Surprise! She's holding the one without a hole, and I'm in the back trying to move the vomit from one side of the bag to the other, making sure it doesn't spill. Ah, summer memories.
When I decided to drive across America this summer, I knew I needed to be more prepared than just having enough maps and sunscreen. Vomiting wouldn't be an issue: if I'm a passenger, I just need to make sure I don't read anything or sit in the back seat, and I actually don't get sick when I'm driving. The real challenge would be to not fall asleep. While driving. I know, I really hope there aren't any State Troopers reading this right now. I have an affliction I have self-diagnosed with called Highway Hypnotism. Essentially, the minute I hit a deserted long-stretch highway, my brain turns into one of those old timey black and white spinning wheels and then my eyes turn into those spinny things, and before I know it I've forgotten my name and I can't remember which state I'm in. It's not good! I feel like it's right up there with being totally drunk or texting an essay while driving.
There is only one known cure for Highway Hypnotism: getting totally jacked up. Since I am too poor for uppers, and I don't exactly want to get pulled over for being high out of my skull on methamphetamine, I get jacked on energy drinks. But what energy drink is best? What drink will get you through the mundane nothingness of Kansas or keep you alert enough to get you and your car through the Colorado rockies without crashing your car into a tractor-trailer? I decided to rate a few energy drinks (aka Liquid Legal Crack) for you so you can be prepared for your next long road trip!
NOTE: I did not review Red Bull because one time I drank so much Red Bull and vodka that I was barfing for days and I thought I saw a dragon, so I am not touching that stuff again. It's violent and not of this earth, especially when you chase a 6-pack with an expired Old El Paso taco pizza kit.
Day 1: Starbucks Refresher Energy (Strawberry Lemon)
This drink is nice, because it has the advantage of tasting good both cold and warm. Sometimes you leave a drink in the car while you make a Target run, and you come back to the car and want to finish your drink. This was my situation with the Strawberry Lemon Refresher. Great cold, not awful warm. As far as energy, this was decent. It kept me buzzed through the boring parts of Michigan (so...all of Michigan then? KIDDING). Taste-wise, this was great; it didn't taste like medicine and it didn't taste like syrup. Dare I say it? It actually tasted like strawberry lemonade. Well, if you put strawberries, lemons, aspirin, and whatever guarana is, into a juicer and then blended the juice with pure, uncut cane sugar.
Day 2: Starbucks Refresher Energy (Orange Melon)
I had such great success with the Starbucks Refresher Energy in Strawberry Lemon that I decided to try to make magic happen again with Orange Melon. Surely it would taste delicious and give me the energy I needed to not drive into oncoming traffic, right? WRONG. It was so gross I poured it out. I knew that if I didn't drink it, I'd be putting myself in jeopardy, so I slammed what I could and just dumped the rest. How can you fuck up orange? Oh, I know, by adding melon to it. WHY. There is no reason. No one likes melon; that's why it's always the last fruit on a fruit tray. I can't describe the taste well enough except to say that it felt like a joke flavour. Like Starbucks decided to release a drink similar to those gross Harry Potter Jelly Bellys where they taste like dirt and bugs and stuff. Starbucks was like "let's make one taste like citrus gasoline, just for fun!"
Day 3: Monster Java Coffee + Energy (Vanilla Light)
THIS SHIT IS MY JAM. It tastes like sweet coffee syrup. Nothing about this tastes like an energy drink. So naturally, I slammed it fast and it was like someone lit a match under my ass and I drove like fucking Speed Racer. Remember in Fast and the Furious how he hits the NOS button and the car drives through space and time? That was me, but in a Honda Fit. After about two hours, I crashed super hard and we had to switch drivers, because all of a sudden it felt like my heart was pumping cement through my chest and my one eye wouldn't stay open.
Day 4: Rockstar Recovery Energy + Hydration (Orange)
Pro: This tasted just like a refreshing Sunny D.
Con: It did nothing to wake me up. It did, however, make me laugh at a joke at a joke for 10 minutes. So yes, it makes you stoned.
Day 5.1: Illy Issimo Cappucinno
I decided to go old school and get a coffee drink with a buttload of espresso in it. Why not? I needed a control. How do the energy drinks compete with an unhealthy amount of coffee? The Illy Cappucinno, in theory, should have woken me up. It did nothing. It was like Italian tryptophan.
Day 5.2: Starbucks Double Shot (White Chocolate)
This, like the Monster Java, was delicious. No complaints. Drank it very very fast (like a kid at a birthday party who was just given a giant Orange soda and needed to drink it before their parents took it away). It kept me very alert, and alert is different from jacked. Alert is rested, focused, steady. Jacked is more like, well, jacked. It's like someone gave you a pill and went "you need to take this in a room without moveable furniture".
Drinks I wish I had tried:
I really wanted to see how the Mountain Dew Kickstart measured up to the Starbucks Refresher Energy, but after my terrible experience with the Orange Melon one, I was wary of orange flavoured things. Sure enough, I bought the Rockstar Recovery Energy in Orange, and it was delicious, but still. There's something very trashy about drinking Mountain Dew before noon. Wait, fuck noon, it's trashy to drink Mountain Dew at anytime.
I also wanted to compare original Monster with the Monster Java. Obviously anything coffee flavoured will be delicious, but I had a difficult time getting over the hump that is original Monster. It doesn't list a flavour on the outside, you can't really tell what it's going to taste like. The can just has a giant green M on it. I was really scared it would taste like Red Bull. A girl I know used to drink two Monsters every morning. That seemed very impressive to me, because she was actually really mellow. I feel like Monster no longer had any effect on her (spooky).
There's something to be said for the Monster/Rockstar/etc. that say "plus" or "extra" or "full throttle". I really wanted to try one, but I was scared I'd just end up pulling the car off the road and weeping. It seems that those are for real hardcore energy drink people. Or people who have seen things.
And, on a final note, NOS Energy Drink. I'm sure you've seen them - they look like nitrous canisters? I couldn't bring myself to buy one. They look like something a 14 year old would buy to look tough. I feel like they should be shrink-wrapped in a 2-pack with a bottle of AXE body spray. And I bet they tasted like piss.
We crossed the border between Sarnia, Ontario and Port Huron, Michigan in the morning. Obviously the first thing I had to do was go to Cracker Barrel to eat some delicious old tyme trash. We drove a long way and managed to cross the Michigan/Indiana border before the night time. After driving in a car and seeing nothing for 5-7 hours, things get a little stale between yourself and your significant other. I suggest trying to engage your partner in a Will.i.am and Britney Spears sing-a-long. Sometimes it will not be well received (this was the case for myself) but maybe you might have a willing partner who wants to sing the "I wanna scream. And shout. And let it all out" part so you can do the "When we walk into the club. All eyes on us" weird british-accent Britney part. That night we stayed in a state park and turned the back of our car into a little camper. Now, I don't have a picture of this, but you can paint it yourself with your imagination: a Honda FIT and two 6-feet-tall adults sleeping in the back. Luxury! I only tossed and turned about 8000 times.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Michigan vs. Indiana. Well, Michigan was boring as shit (save for all the exploded truck tires littering the highway. That was interesting), and Indiana reminded me a lot of Pawnee, so Indiana takes it. GOOD JOB, INDIANA!
We drove the next morning across the Illinois border. Illinois is nice. Land of Lincoln, right? We stopped at a truck stop and found an old Texan long-haul trucker with a mini Australian Shepherd. I was allowed to pet it and he told me he got lonely in the truck so he decided to get a co-pilot. His daughter convinced him to get a mini Australian and he named her Cheyenne. I DIED. She was so adorable and he loved her. When we were leaving, we saw him in the truck and she was in the passenger seat with her paws on the dashboard. UGH, I'M DYING JUST THINKING ABOUT IT. Then we drove to Missouri to stop in St. Louis. Time change! We're now an hour behind. I saw buildings for ITT Tech, Everest College, and University of Phoenix all in the same place. The future leaders of tomorrow can be found in St. Louis, apparently. I forgot that Nelly was from St. Louis till we were driving out and I saw his restaurant. I really missed an opportunity to do a city-wide Nelly/St. Lunatics tour. We had dinner at Sonic (America's Drive-in, apparently) and they were so slow, I felt like I needed to go inside and teach them about the concept of a sandwich (bread, meat, sauces, bread. Do it again. Get it right this time. No, cheese doesn't go on top of the bread). That night my boyfriend and I got into a fight over sleeping in the car vs. sleeping in a musty tent, so he got the tent and I got the car. Neither of us slept very well. I'll pretend that's Missouri's fault.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Illinois vs. Missouri. Illinois relies a bit too heavily on the Lincoln shit, but he was the best President, so can you blame them? Missouri felt very banjo/inbred, plus that slow-ass Sonic is the clencher. Illinois is the better state. GOOD JOB, LAND OF LINCOLN.
I woke up that morning to the inbred screams of "THAT'S IT, WE'RE GOING HOME. CATHERINE'S BACK-TALKING ME ALREADY AND CALVIN'S IN THE DIRT. PUT AWAY THE TENTS, I'M DONE". Oh nice, our campsite was beside a redneck family! They had squeezed 3 kids, 3 dogs, a fat-ass mom, jerk redneck mom's new boyfriend (you know when you can just tell?) three tents, paddle boards and swimming shit, two dog pens, coolers for days, chairs, fireworks, cases of Mountain Dew, and 5 sleeping bags into a rusted-ass Dodge Caravan. The Beverly Hillbillies are looking at their car like "shit, I hope you got triple A, cause that car is a fucking mess". We packed up and moved on. The final straw was when I was getting changed and the mom (in a fucking stage whisper) goes "UGH. I can see her bra! This is a FAMILY CAMPGROUND". Oh, I'm sorry that me putting on a shirt insulted your delicate flower eyes. Is now a good time to mention that your kids look like they were born beside a nuke site, or shall I bring up that every time you get in your van you void the warranty (yes, even vans have a weight restriction). That afternoon we drove to Kansas City and took in a ball game. Baseball is fun, so no complaints about that. Kansas City Royals stadium has decent food, I'll say that. Here's the 'but'. The Royals stadium is built way out of town, like between the Suburbs and Mall Central. It's also off the highway. Like, on an off-ramp. And no matter where you sit, your view is of the freeway. Nothing else. Just cars buzzing by, people going to the mall, trucks chugging along the interstate. It's awful. It's like city planners were like "Okay, as you all know, the only lots we got approval for were the old abandoned haunted burial ground and the off-ramp from the interstate. Where do we put this ball diamond?"After that, we skipped across the border to Kansas.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Missouri vs. Kansas. As I've explained before, Missouri is just awful. St. Louis isn't bad - I mean, they're trying. I saw a couple of rainbow flags and there is a great slavery museum (that sounded bad. It's actually an amazing museum dedicated to slavery, Lincoln, prolific slaves, etc. It should really be called the White People Are Terrible, Come See Some Proof That We Suck-museum, but that's too long.) However, the rest of Missouri is a sinkhole, so Kansas takes it. GOOD JOB, FIRST 3 MILES ACROSS THE BORDER KANSAS!
This was a tough day. We drove for 8 hours through Kansas and saw nothing. Remember two seconds ago where I said Kansas was a better state than Missouri? I WAS WRONG. If there was a pie graph of kansas, it would be divided equally between the following:
- Pro-life billboards
- Anti-evolution billboards
- People giving unsolicited advice about 'homaseckshulls'
It was awful. The worst came when we were at a McDonalds and we were surrounded by tables of old men and ALL OF THEM were talking about 'homos'. One guy said that 'homosexuality is a hogwash sandwich' and that 'back when we were younger, they just kept to themselves. Now they gotta bring all that garbage into Washington and rub it in our faces'. It was my turn to then stage-whisper "I would argue with them, but I know they're all going to die soon and that's good enough". Seriously, fuck Kansas. It was a non-stop homophobic/anti-choice/sexist gangbang. Which, in a way, is super ironic; when most people think of Kansas they think of Judy Garland, Somewhere Over The Rainbow, and a soft-spoken Steel man. After driving through nothing but fields and windchimes for hours, we arrived in Colorado and stayed the night in Denver. Denver is awesome. We treated ourselves to a hotel and dinner and walked around the city. I know people make fun of Portland and Austin as being hipster-meccas, but seriously - watch out you two. Denver is coming for your ass. Denver is your Nomi Malone, coming to out-hipster you and take the throne.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Kansas vs. Denver. Oh my god, do I even need to explain this one? I feel like anyone with half a brain in Kansas gets on the first bus they can flag down and rides it into Colorado. For being diverse, happy, clean, having bike lanes and recycling, not making me feel like a redneck was going to pull a shotgun on me because I didn't vote for Mitt Romney, Colorado takes it. GOOD JOB, STATE THAT ISN'T A HATE-FILLED BAG OF DICKS.
Before we left Colorado, we stopped at a Target and I found a nice dog to pet. I actually followed the owners from their cars and waited for them to tie her up outside. Then I pounced and showered her with love. I have a porblem. Moving on. Once you drive out of Denver and through the mountains, it instantly turns into the desert. It's really weird. All of a sudden you go from breathing cool crisp air to inhaling dust and scorpions. The instant you cross the border into Utah, you are bombarded with Mormon churches. We decided to camp in the desert that night. I was actually very cool. Our view was dust, tumbleweeds, sunset. Our neighbor was this old southwest cowboy who was fascinated that we were from Canada. He said he always wanted to go to Canada, but it looks like everyone is always protesting. Truth! We love protesting. I told him to go to Alberta where they don't put up with that shit and he'll feel right at home with all the rodeos and cattle drives and such. When we woke up, we discovered there was no shower at this campground and we were disgusted, because both of us were starting to smell like terrible humans.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Colorado vs. Utah. Colorado wins simply because I like the snow-covered mountains more than the red-rock desert. That's all. Utah was very friendly, despite all the Mormons (actually, Mormons are the ones who keep to themselves and are fairly decent, right? I don't know). Colorado takes it. GOOD JOB, BRAH.
We took a detour that brought us to Salt Lake City. Both of us really wanted to see SLC just purely out of wanting to gawk at the Head Mormon Compound. Salt Lake City is very weird; on one hand, you have these hipsters who are trying very very hard to make this city cool, but on the other hand you have tons of Mormons making it safer than Disneyland on Military Appreciation Day. Two sides fighting so hard against eachother. But really, note to hipsters: Salt Lake City isn't cool. Stop trying to make it happen. Driving out of Salt Lake City takes you along the salt flats. What are salt flats? Google Utah Salt Flats. There, mystery solved. We walked on them and I tasted it to make sure it was really salt. It is! It's also weird because it feels like it should be cold like ice, but it's normal temperature. Utah borders Nevada, and the second you cross the border you're greeted by SO MANY CASINOS. We went to a grocery store and there was a casino in the grocery store. It was weird and sad and I did not like. We stayed in the Nevada desert/prairie and we got to see so many bunnies and prairie dogs up close. It was so cool. Our tent was on top of a warren.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Utah vs. Nevada. Tough one. Based solely on the prairie dog sightings, I got to go with Nevada. GOOD JOB, ONE ARMED BANDITS!
We had to drive through Reno to get to California, so we thought it would be a good idea to go walk around Reno for a bit. THIS WAS A MISTAKE. Reno, Nevada, is so sad and weird and awful. There is a reason why RENO-911 was made. It's a constant sketch idea. Everything you see could be made into a scene starring Lt.Dangle. It's literally the Biggest Little Mistake of a City in America. We drove out of Reno, shell-shocked, and into California. We drove through the mountains and trees and it felt SO Northern California. It was breathtaking. Ew, that word is so gross. We visited the Donner Party memorial; there is a giant statue that shows how deep the snow was. Learning about that was facinating. I always just thought it was a group of people who got lost in the woods and one person snapped and ate everyone, but that's so far from the truth. Turns out it was a group of people looking to relocate and they get snowed by a fast-talking hustler who thinks he knows the way. They end up in a massive snowstorm on a trail they need to blaze themselves, they run out of food, everyone is going crazy because they were supposed to arrive in September and it's now November. People are passing out and dying because they're cold and working too hard and have no food. Finally a few people start eating corpses because it's the only thing that will keep them alive. A rescue group finds them and (I think) that rescue group also gets stranded with them. Another rescue group finds them and helps them to safety. The snow was like 20 feet deep. It's insane. We didn't sleep in that state park cause it gave me the creeps. The park we stayed in was so nice; we put up our tent against the lake.
US STATE SHOWDOWN: Nevada vs. California. Easy. California, especially northern California, is like something out of a movie. So cool. GOOD JOB, NOW TAKE THE 101 TO LA CIENEGA AND GET OUUUUUUT OF HEEEERE!!!!
It took us about an hour to drive to San Francisco, which is where our friends live. We stayed there for a week. San Francisco is very cold, you can't swim in the water, lots of rich people, very fancy and nice, has great food. I reccomend going.
DAY 8 PLUS A WEEK OR WHATEVER
We drive 6 hours to Los Angeles!
Okay, so I also saw a lot of animals on this trip (no, I'm not refering to the people of Reno). Here are the animals I saw:
- Deer (2 walked right in front of my car at night time)
- Big-horned Sheep
- Wild Turkey or a Road Buzzard. Still not sure what I saw.
- Prairie Dogs
- Deer with stubby horns. Again, not sure what I saw.
- Cows (duh, no biggie)
- And obviously dogs. Duh, dogs are everywhere. AMERICA'S MOST COMMON PET.
Ooooh, dat feels good. My ass-groove in the couch that is Skip-raid is right as I left it. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, pimping out Mad Men reviews to you like you all had some kind of Mad Men weekly review addiction that prevented you from living a normal life. Well, I'm back to writing normal stuff (as IF my obsession with Pete Campbell last season was normal. I'm covered in my own side-eyes right now). Let me give you a quick summation of what the hell has been happening for me to drop you like a hot bag of trash (that's unfair - we're all just lukewarm bags of donation clothes).
- I moved to MURRRRRICA. WHIP OUT YOUR WAVING FLAGS AND SCREECHING EAGLES AND LOPSIDED BREAST IMPLANTS!!!! That's correct, I finally moved to the land of sweet nectar (Mountain Dew Kickstart), salty nuggets of truth (Chile Limon Doritos), and hot greasy pride (In-n-Out). It's only temporary though because I need to go back to Canada. I'm, how you say, not here legally, so eventually I will need to go back to Poutineville before La Migra catches my border-jumping ass and sends me back to Canada's version of Uncle Sam (Monsieur Jean? Oncle Samuel?)
- I'm here for acting/improv classes. HERE'S AN ALEVE EXTRA STRENGTH FOR YOUR EXTRA STRENGTH EYEROLL. I know, I never thought my life would take such a tragic turn, but here we are! Some of you (5 out of the 10 regulars) know that I do comedy stuff in Canada, but it was always a dream of mine to train with UCB (which, up until like 3 days before I left, my friend Abbey thought was University of California at Berkeley. Lols. I could barely get into University of Phoenix). But it's great and I'm learning to be a better clown and bring lols to the yard.
- I have a car now. BEEP BEEP I'M A MOTORIST. I've gotten fairly good at driving which, honest to god, was literally the only thing I used to be total garbage at. I could do most things with a modicum of skill, but driving was just like, hands in the air, "I give up". So I'm driving myself around and talking to myself like Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy (I also play the Miss Daisy part).
- Brief interjection: I'm writing this from a Starbucks at Sunset and La Brea (that sounded so The Californians. WHAAAAAAARYOO DOING HURRRR?) and there is a salesman on his phone right beside me to my left. He's dressed very niceley and he's got his laptop out and some notes. He's on his phone and he's conducting business meetings from Starbucks. Sorry, did I say business meetings? I meant cold calling people. But it's very clear we're in a Starbucks; you can hear the espresso grinder, they're fucking blasting the Norah Jones, there's a constant voice calling out drinks. Guy, no one believes you're in an office when your client on the other end needs to plug her one ear to hear over the sound of "GRANDE AMERICANO ONE PUMP VANILLA FOR KAITREESHA! VENTI GREEN TEA LATTE HALF WHIP ONE SWEETENER FOR CARL!" Also, the Norah Jones just switched to Lady Antebellum or some shit and one of the employees just came to our area and yelled "SIR YOU NEED A KEY FOR THE MENSROOM". I'm dying.
- How did I get to California? I drove. Yes, I drove from Canada to California. I'm a car commercial. We played innofensive indie pop the whole way too and most of the trip I had my arm out the window doing that arm-surfing-a-wave-of-wind-in-slow-motion thing. NO! But I did drive with my boyfriend and we camped the whole way here. I will be writing about that in another post. Why? Because you get a lot of material when you spend a day in the shithole that is Kansas state (NOT EVEN SORRY).
So that's that! Expect me to short-out the servers at Blogger because I'm about to be posting more than I ever have.
It's that time again! I've written another Mad Men recap of this week's episode "The Flood". You can read it here! Fun fact - my sister told me that the last time I linked to a Villain article, I put the wrong web address in, and it took people to a Toronto restaurant called Thai Princess. Look, maybe it was a careless mistake. But maybe it was completely intentional. Can you blame me? Thai Princess has been serving the greater metropolitan Toronto area for nearly 20 years now with its delightful combination of fresh ingredients and quality service. Thai-it today! You can Thai to resist it, but you won't last long! Thai as you might, you'll never find a finer-tasting Thai! I'm Thai-ing really hard to think of more Thai puns, but it's not happening. And no, I won't resort to Bangkok lady-boy jokes! I'm too classy and demure.