“Goddess of Oddness”? “Goddess of Oddness”?!! By the time I leave here, South, three of your personal belongings will have been inside my cooch. Good luck figuring out which ones they are.
I’m back, guys! In honor of my arrival at Casa de South, please read my posts with a Southern accent and a wad of chewing tabacky tucked under your lip. Please mentally replace all verbs with the word “fixin’”. and all “I am’s “with “Umma gonna‘s”. Thank you for your support.
This time I stopped in to see Mom South on the way to Mike’s place so she could give me big, Southern hair. I mean it’s bad enough that I have to be down here among all these scary people who don’t speak a wit of English. (I’m referring, of course, to the Southerners….) I wanted to fit in better with the natives, to look like “one of them.“ After much teasing, jawing and hair spraying, I think I have achieved “Southern hair status.” Unfortunately, I’ve inhaled so much Aqua Net in the last hour that only my left lung is functioning.
I’m a tad crabby from the long drive. I was in Virginia before I realized that South never told me where I could find the key to his place. The last time he hid it it one of those fake rocks and that majorly pissed me off cuz I had a hard time finding the damn thing. This time I called him several times and left charming messages, like, “damn it, ya big dumb jackass! You forgot to tell me where the key was!“ and “damn it, south! where the hell is the key?!” and other sorts of uplifting messages along that same line. Messages that just inspire you to drop everything and call back. By the time I got to his place I was seething mad, and I smashed out a couple windows again. Then I had one of the skinny boys “self employed in the pharmaceutical business” standing on the corner, crawl in and open the front door for me.
Interesting side note: Had I checked the messages on my ghetto TracFone BEFORE I did that, I would have known exactly where the key was. Ha ha ahhhhh—good times, good times, eh, South?
I’m also crabby because South said I can’t mention my favorite word: COPS. Fine. I won’t mention COPS. I won’t mention, that in preparing for this trip, I watched all my COPS from Atlanta tapes–I wonder if Andrew T. Griffin is still a cop in Atlanta? Ooooo weeeee! And I certainly won’t mention my hottcops.blogspot.com site. Oh, and guys? If your chicky pooh friend wants to see cops on display like the hunky man meat they are, pass that URL along to them and you’ll be richly rewarded by their horniness later.
Here are some things I’ve decided I HATE during the drive to Georgia:
1. Big Gulps and small bladders.
2. Black “singers’ who talk throughout most of their “song”. There’s a reason they’re called “SONGS”!!
3. Gas stations that lock their bathrooms but leave their cash registers unattended.
4. Black singers who constantly remind us of their name throughout their songs.
5. Tiny, stinky bathrooms with no terlit paper or winders. Wow. Talking like the locals and I’ve only been here five minutes.
6. Men who give directions according to route numbers. What a fucked up idea that is! Especially to those of us who are map illiterate.
7. The fact that I can’t accelerate uphill in my Korean Rio without turning off the AC.
8. Those “slow down my mommy/daddy works on this highway” signs that look like they’ve been written by dyslexic kids. Maybe if mom and dad worked less, and spent more time with their kids, they’d know how to print their damn letters!!
9. GAWDAWDFUL FOG LIGHTS ON PICK UP TRUCKS. How do you guys decide which ones to buy? The smaller your penis, the bigger and the brighter the fog lights?! And who are you, the Chosen Few that you get to use big ass spot lights while the rest of us struggle with regular sized lights?!
10. Driving 15 + hours to Atlanta cuz South is too cheap to spring for a plane ticket for me. He could have saved up his Polident boxes and got me a free ticket.
11. The phrases “you can’t get there from here,“ and “wow, you’re really lost, aren’t you?“ GUH!! *note to
self* read that teeny tiny little disclaimer at the bottom of Mapquest’s site more carefully next time.
12. Seeing the “Welcome to Indiana!” sign when you’re trying to drive from PA to Georgia through Maryland and Virginia.
13. Miles of endless highway construction and friggin’ detours!! Although to be fair, I encountered most of that when I was still in PA, Land of Endless Highway Construction and Friggin’ Detours.
14. The clerk at the (in)convenience store who called me a “bitch” because I loudly asked, “Do you think you could yak it up with your baby’s daddy some other time?” when she pretended she didn’t see me standing at the register two feet away from her. I don’t care if she did want to just “axe her boo for some ends.‘”
15. Having to ask the question, “Ok but what route am I on right now?” 500 HUNDRED TIMES!!!!!!!!
16. The phrase “SON OF A BITCH” which I screamed many, many, many times on the way down heah.
If you’re in the Atlanta area and you wanna hang out, call me at South’s place. He’s in the yellow pages….under “hillbilly pornographers.” Don’t worry. There aren’t that many.
BTW, Frank, you think you got lucky when you went fishing with South? I got the best deal of all: five days at South’s place without South. BWAHAAHAHAHA!! Ok, time to drive my Hoveround into the bedroom and unpack.
