Road Trip!

On the road.
The view of my sad looking mug from the front passenger-side window. Magnificent!
The road again. A different one.
A random gully with people running from it.
A portrait of a foot in repose.

With the specter of spring break looming overhead, the idea of being stuck together for a week forced us to the open road and escape. We drove Highway 191 which links Highway 6(just above Helper) to whatever Highway runs through Duchesne-where we spent 30 hours waiting for them to bring us our food at a little place called Carlings Country Kitchen. Needless to say, we didn't actually dare to look in the kitchen. The waitress was a peach let me tell ya. You could tell she was really happy to be there serving us. It was super duper fun! Yea! I took pics of all the best parts for your enjoyment. Last one to the car is roadkill!!

Cutting back

I have decided that I have no choice but to cut back a little on the booze. At least before bed. I can't handle many more dreams like the last few. They have been weighing heavily on my mind and I was hoping if I wrote about them here I could figure them out better. Everybody knows that unless it is a sexy dream about Bret Michaels and Donnie Wahlberg(We all know what that means Krysta!) everything in your dreams mean something. Everything.
In the first dream, I was in a large, rickety house and was using a HUGE piece of chalk to write words on the wall that kept getting increasingly smaller and smaller at a slant towards the bottom corner of the wall. When I was almost done someone came in to tell me that my Mom had recieved a letter from my crazy sister(2 pages-on parchment no less). In it she went on and on about how my Mom had ruined her life because she(my sister) had actually started out life as a small boy in a little village in Africa and she was upset because my Mom had made her grow up into what she was now. She had wanted to remain a little African boy and was going to sue my Mom. That was after the dream where I had to come up with 200 words that meant the same thing and started with w and all I could think of was the words who, what and where. Then last night I had a dream that was pretty much a parade of colored animals that kept bloating up with big huge pustules as they enlarged themselves. If I could draw you a picture of the bright purple porcupine, you would throw up a little in your mouth I am sure. So- I guess all I can do now is lay off the sauce and hope some psych student happens upon this, takes pity on me and helps me out. Because really, is there anyone more pitiable?

Food for Thought

As you may well know, the author James Frey was in the news recently. His book, A Million Little Pieces was exposed as a work of fiction. When it came out a few years ago it was released as a true story. Apparently, he was going to submit it as a novel but didn't think anyone would buy it that way and decided to sell it as a memoir. I found a copy of the book at the D.I. for a buck and bought it. I have wanted to read it since it came out and was now intrigued because of all of the uproar about it. I just finished reading it this week. It is a gut wrenching, incredible book. It was one of those books that you read wide eyed and can't stop reading even though you may be uncomfortable or whatever. Here is the question then: Is it a more impressive feat to be able to write about these awful, unbelievable things without having gone through them first? Whether I liked the book or not is irrelevant. Does it truly matter that he didn't actually go through everything in the book? I can't quite decide what I think. Maybe if James Frey would trade me bank account balances for awhile I could clear my head and figure it out.

I'm crushing

In the great tradition of bloggers everywhere I submit to you my list of go to boyfriends. The guys I am crushing on right now: (in no particular order)

Sorry, I am way too lazy to go find pics. So- you're on your own there.

1-KID ROCK

The long, stringy grease mop on his head is just the icing on the cake. How could you say no to a dirty wife beater, elvis shades and the smell of old cheese, gym socks and cigars? Plus, you know he'll probably make you ramen noodles before you go out and score a 40 of Natural Light at the 7-11.

2-TOM JONES
I saw a picture of him a while back and he is still lookin' pretty good for his age! He probably won't even notice if you take his car for a spin while he is down for his second daily nap. I sure can think of a few things to keep us occupied in between hip replacement surgeries! Two words: Ben Gay.

3-BRET MICHAELS

Maybe if I prove how much I love his morning breath smelling of cigs, vodka and beef jerky with a touch of Goldschlager, he'll let me scratch under his bandana wig of a nice Friday night.

4-SNOOP DOGG

The fact that he used to be a drug dealing pimp just adds to the appeal. It turns me on to always be wondering-If I object to the fact that he reeks of old smoked out bongs and never piks out his nappy fro, am I gonna get smacked upside the head?

5-TOM CRUISE

With his sallow skin and that wild, slightly off look in his eyes-how can you go wrong? I love it when he smiles to show off those enormous choppers. At any minute he could lose it and just start chomping away on my arm and then lecture me on the evils of anti-depressants while he spits out bits of cartilage. Thrilling.

6-FLAVOR FLAV

Despite the fact that I can't stand to watch the newest incarnation of his show, he is still on my list. You know he never removes his shiny grillz to brush so there are probably tidbits of food and cheap champagne residue to discover every time you kiss him. Every time I look at him I can just feel his skin under my fingertips. Mmmmm-just like a slightly greasy, bumpy leather armchair.