25

Jul

CA Road Trip, Part II

Day 2.

My friends and I left our friend’s house in the afternoon. Despite agreements otherwise to wake up at 9am, we woke up at 8am (I COULD HAVE USED THAT EXTRA HOUR WE AGREED ON, LADIES) on the dot and bustled around. Just kidding! All the other girls got up but I rolled around in bed for a while complaining about my lack of sleep before slowly – ever so slowly – inching my way to the bathroom to transform my face from Scary Alien Face to Normal Human Face.

I always feel like a banana slug in the mornings. And when I feel like a banana slug, I don’t want to move. I just want to sit and stew in my own filth. However, obligations lit the necessary fire under my butt to get me going; we had to pick up a friend from the airport.

Both my friend and I ended up getting to the airport very early and I spent my time and money filling up on StarButts drinks I didn’t need and shouldn’t have consumed. The acid from the copious amounts of coffee I was consuming probably burned multiple holes throughout my digestive tract, but it did its job: I was awake still. Awake and in need of a fire department to put out the burning in my intestines and esophagus.

After retrieving my friend from the airport, we drove to the hotel. In one of the fastest changes in history, I whipped on my bathing suit and jumped into the pool. I was gross from the car and going into the pool seemed ideal after being stuck in an enclosed space all day. Sadly, the pool was more of a puddle. That must be how Shamu feels – a whale in a small puddle. I feel you, Shamu. Nonetheless, I made the most of it by splashing around and yelling loudly at my friends. Much like Shamu does (?).

Pretty sure I scared the other people who were at the pool away. There were about 5 or 6 people in the pool when I got there but ten minutes later, I was alone with my friends – who both chose to not wear their suits and judge coldly from the safety of land.

They attempted to take photos of me when I repeatedly beached myself and made whale noises but alas, I was too quick for their slow reaction times. Who knew whales were capable of such stealth? Shamu, you feel me?

So, after a certain amount of time of being a beached whale, we returned to the hotel room where we decided to go to downtown Sacramento to eat dinner.

I expected the Capitol of California to be a bustling hub of activity with politicians arguing in the streets and the CA Republic flag flying proudly from every building. What I did not expect was a total ghost town where I was convinced – CONVINCED – that there was some sort of underground level where all the cool people went. It probably worked out for the best that there was no underground meeting of cool people because I wouldn’t know what to do with myself in such a situation except dance or twerk.

Anyway, we went back to the hotel and lounged before falling asleep. Slightly more bored and disappointed for having visited our Capitol and without so much as one CA-themed song playing in our heads.

– Daughter

11 years ago Short URL Comments

Road Trip

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28

May

I Survived a 3am Hippie Drum Circle

Take a bath, hippie.

Take a bath, hippie.

My first time back at the beach after four months of being stuck in East Coast Winter Wonderland Wasteland was supposed to be a moment of everlasting glory and wonder. Sunshine and happiness would embrace me in a warm, summer hug. The dark blue water of the sea would dance in the sunlight and joyful gulls would swoop down from the sky to steal my sandwich. This dream was turned into a nightmare, however. When I did finally set foot in the sands of California, my experience was marred by hippies.

I am partly to blame for the nightmare. My friends and I decided that a 3am drum circle at a “clothing-optional” beach was definitely the event of the year. So, we all dragged ourselves to the beach in the early, pre-dawn hours and pretended to be morning people. We wore clothes to the beach despite having the option to go unclothed because we are normal, corporate people. The type of people hippies hate and probably cannibalize. (Just kidding, hippies don’t like meat.)

Despite the luminescence of the full moon, it was extremely dark and difficult to see as we made our way to the drum circle. It was a half-mile hike down cliffs where loose nails, treacherously slippery rocks, and strung out hippies attempted to keep us from our slightly dirtier, higher brethren playing upon the instruments of our forefathers. Alas, their attempts would fail in the face of our vaguely conscious determination.

As we walked onto the beach, a passing homeless man yelled at us: “WELCOME HOME!” I found this ironic. Ironies noted and cast aside, we continued walking toward the nucleus of the drum circle. Half-dressed, high people ran by us toward the freezing Pacific where they jumped into the water and waves crashed over them right before another sort of wave rushed over them – that of regret (the water of the Pacific doesn’t joke around, she’s a frigid, frigid lady). A man walked up to me and asked if I had a spare bobby pin – presumably to complete his crack pipe or something. I didn’t and he wandered off with a glazed look in his eyes.

Do these flowers make my face look fat?

Do these flowers make my face look fat?

We eventually made it to the actual drum circle and began to mock the hippies by singing Taylor Swift  and Katy Perry over their chorus of Kumbaya. Not truly loud enough to the point where they heard us, just loud enough to amuse ourselves. We were subverting the hippies with our mainstream cultural references. We also mined our collective memories for pro-war songs and came up with, “Welcome to the Jungle.” Basically, we were the Drum Circle Trolls. I mean, I can hardly take a drum circle seriously on its own terms much less when any toddler set loose in a well-stocked kitchen filled with pots and pans could make a better rhythm.

A woman seemed to be leading the singing and she was actually quite good considering she had multiple chemicals coursing through her body. She had a nice voice and a welcoming hippie vibe that almost made me want to talk to her. However, I decided I didn’t want to have to check for lice later, so I kept my distance.

How everyone dressed at the drum circle.

How everyone dressed at the drum circle.

Yeah, so I’m not as hippie as I thought. I will keep my clothes and my corporate coffee, for now.

– Daughter

11 years ago Short URL 1 Comment

Humor

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20

May

Road Trip Diaries: Homeward Bound, Part VI

Dad’s Version  of the Events:

Day Five:  The Final Frontier.

These have been the Voyages of the Crew Cab Pickup, Frontier.

It’s five-day mission:  To explore strange, new roads; to seek out new family members and their new idiosyncracies; to boldly go where Daughter and I have never gone before . . . .  Whooooosh!!!

That “whoosh” was not the sound of the warp drive engaging.  Rather, it was the Mistral-like trade winds that buffeted us in the face every mile of the way since we left Dallas early Sunday morning.

And today was different, in that the hot, humid Texas heat was replaced by the searing, dry New Mexico and Arizona heat.  Why do people live in such places?  I’ll never know.

All I can say is Thank God for modern air conditioning and cruise control, which meant for us that our daily distance was more a function of our bladders and bleary-eyed fatigue than any sort of truck-dependent mechanical factors.  For the past couple of days, I reminisced to myself about the long-distance drives of my youth, in a Chevy Vega, no less.  You see, I had plenty of time to think to myself, since Daughter was usually good for one solid driving stint per day, with the balance of her other time spent napping, staring at her iPhone, and standing Tarp Watch.

But back to the Days of Yore, it was no air conditioning, no cruise control, no problem.  In my foolish, youthful long-distance driving zeal, I even used to roll up the passenger window during those incredibly hot and long summer journeys, thinking what I lost in perspiration was more than made up by improved aerodynamics.

What a bunch of crap that notion was!  No way, man.  It would have been better to have driven naked with all the windows down compared to what I actually put myself through otherwise.  However, I find those past experiences a useful context to judge how easy it is for me now.  Instead of worrying if I’ll blow an engine or have a flat, I’m more concerned about how far off the Interstate the next Starbucks happens to be.

It’s really sickening, when I think about it, but I will leave the pain and denial in my life to my gardening adventures (that damn clover!), while I prefer my driving to be comfortable and relatively stress free.

Never one to leave well enough alone, though, I induced stress on this latest trip by initiating a series of questions (historical) and transportational (practical) to gauge both Daughter’s general level of awareness and as well as her basic competencies in both areas.  Of course, best of all, it also offered me the chance to impart generational wisdom.

The results were mixed.  On the one hand, Daughter is a very intelligent and sensitive young woman, who has much to offer to the world which, one day, will award her a Pulitzer Prize.  On the other hand, she has a hard time figuring out miles per gallon and doesn’t react very well to the question/phrases, “Well, what would you do if I weren’t here?” and “That’s just an observation; not a criticism.”

In the end, we made it home safely today; we’re still talking to each other, though I don’t understand a lot of what she says; we still enjoy each other’s company (most of the time); and we both have an inherent dislike for Left Lane Bandits and Other Morons of the Open Road (of which there are plenty, and increasing daily, it seems).

Years from now, when my great, great grandchildren ask me about this trip and the most important lesson learned, I will slowly wipe away the spittle from my lower lip, adjust my diaper, and look deeply into the eyes of whichever kid I can focus on and grumble, “Never use yarn to tie down a tarp in a pickup truck bed.  It really sucks and doesn’t work for shi very well.”

Thanks, Daughter.  Now I have something to look forward to!

– Dad

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Daughter’s Version of Events: 

We made great time today because Dad fell asleep for a long stretch of the trip and after a quick risk assessment, I took liberties with the speed limit. The speed limit on a two-lane interstate is mostly a guide anyway, n’est-ce pas? As usual, semi-truck drivers and people who must have been in and out of R.E.M. sleep behind the wheel were great dangers on the road. But, to be fair, I’m also a hazard to myself because I get very competitive with semi-trucks who try to pass. They put on that blinker and it signals me to speed up while waggling my finger angrily at the driver. Usually, this is enough to discourage the driver from careening into my lane. It gives me a sick sense of pleasure depriving trucks the ability to cross into my lane in front of me. Maybe this is because I inherited the jerk gene. I hear it gets passed down through the Y chromosome only…

Today, other drivers were not a huge issue. I had bigger problems to worry about, like the giant dust devils that appeared out of nowhere and swept across the road without warning. Dad was asleep when one decided to cross the road right into the truck and I was temporarily thrown around a bit. Luckily, the truck was weighed down my pounds and pounds of my belongings so there was no way I was going anywhere. I was briefly terrified which helped to keep me awake. Maybe I should just watch horror films while I drive. I would be distracted, sure, but I’d be awake!

We also passed a lot of border patrol stops today and my father tested out some new material he must have been working on:

“Okay, Daughter, try not to look too Mexican. Think about being white.”

“PUT DOWN THE BURRITO.”

“Graci– I mean, thank you!!”

When we finally got home (the last hour was torture), I immediately forced my younger sister into indentured servitude and had her carry boxes from the truck. It turns out she is stronger than me. She’s only 11 but she has the bicep strength of an adult Slovakian wrestler.

My room is currently full of unpacked boxes and I am full of the promise of new tomorrows!! No, wait, I’m just full from dinner.

– Daughter

11 years ago Short URL Comments

Family/Humor/Road Trip

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09

Jan

Pale is the New… Nope.

California is famous for having a bronzed population and ridiculously sunny weather. I used to conform and was many shades darker than what I am now. I traipsed around pretending I was awesome but I was just a sheep, never the mountain goat I was meant to be (?). Now, my skin is no longer skin but just glowing phosphorescence. Like one of those deep sea creatures. That’s how pale I am, I have my own illumination. I AM THE LIGHT! 

Sometimes I get mistaken for a nebula.

Sometimes I get mistaken for a nebula.

Pale Tips 

1) The Sun is Your Enemy. Never go outside. Ever. If for some reason you have to go out into the world, use SPF 100000 sunscreen. Preferably wear a bio-hazard suit. The sun is a bio-hazard to your pale. Become nocturnal if possible.

Hope that pilot has sunscreen.

Hope that pilot has sunscreen.

2) Be Sick. Get sick as often as you can. Lick the underside of your shoes. Never wash your hands. Get a flu shot – no, not that one. It’s when you drink out of a shot glass that somebody with the flu has just used, THAT flu shot. By getting sick, you ensure a sickly pallor (yay!).

Bacteria is your friend!!

Bacteria is your friend!!

3) Be Sad. Watch extremely sad movies, especially ones with animals because you just know those furry friends are going to meet their demise after you have developed a deep connection with them. Make sure you cry so you can be dehydrated too.

Don't watch it! The dog dies.

Don’t watch it! The dog dies.

4) Never Sleep. If you want that paleness that’s almost translucent, you’re going to have to deprive yourself of sleep. It’s the only way.

Never sleeping also means you won't be sniffed by lions in your sleep.

Never sleeping also means you won’t be sniffed by lions in your sleep.

5) Under-Eye Circles. Should occur naturally if you follow through with #4. They act as a contrast highlighting your paleness with their blackness. If those monsters don’t appear, a practiced hand and a black Magic Marker will work just fine.

#vintage #hipster

#vintage #hipster

– Daughter

11 years ago Short URL 1 Comment

Humor/Laugh at My Expense

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