Friday, February 18, 2011

Day Two: Road Trip to Nowhere

The day started off like that long stretch of Texas where there is absolutely nothing but road and dust.  But then on a jaunty trip to the post office I spied a rollerblading couple.  The woman was normal looking enough, I suppose. I didn't have time to pay much attention to her, as I was preoccupied with her beau: a shirtless middle aged man with bulging biceps and stage-one beer gut, wearing jeans, and of course rollerblades.  Did you catch that?  Shirtless.  Jeans.  Rollerblades.  The best part is, he wasn't holding a shirt nor had it hanging from his back pocket as men are wont to do.  Which means he left the house that way.  Sans shirt.  Jeans.  Rollerblades.


I recommend stopping by the post office in any town you visit.  There's usually so much history there and, bonus, you get to see how stuff is, uh...mailed.  And, you have the opportunity to get in on the action and mail something yourself.  Pretty cool huh?

Okay, so it's really not that exciting.

Upon leaving the post office I noticed a little cafe that touts dining amidst the flowers.  Its courtyard and wrought iron gate reminded me of a New Orleans cafe, but with fewer beads and people shouting Who Dat! in my face.

The drive back to the office was quite the little mini-adventure.  I got cut off by an SUV with a South Carolina plate who decided, turns lanes?  Meh, turn lanes are for pussies.  I'm going to wait at the light in the non turn lane and turn anyway.  What are you going to do about it?  I'm from South Carolina, bitch.

Then, when I turned down the one-way street to my office, a conga line of cars and I had to pull off to the side of the road (and let me tell you, there wasn't much room) for a rich (I'm assuming rich, by their car) couple in a convertible to drive the wrong way down the one-way.  The man was driving (of course) and he held out his hand like the President addressing the crowd in his inaugural parade.  His dear wife had her head buried in her hands, unable to bear the shame.  Which made me start cracking up.  And also reminded me of the time the husband and I went to Cafe Risque.  You know?  The strip club.

Well, technically, we didn't go to Cafe Risque.  We went to the Cafe Risque parking lot.  On accident.

We were traveling back to G-ville to get our learnin on at the University of Florida, perhaps better known to the nation as the University of National Champions, when we needed to fill up on gas.   We pulled off at the exit that also happened to be the Cafe Risque exit.  After the getting of the gas, pandemonium ensued and we somehow ended up trying to leave the Cafe Risque parking lot.  But everyone and their mother decided to exit the interstate at that exact moment so there was a steady stream of cars passing zee Cafe inhibiting our ability to turn onto the road.  As car after car drove past and looked at the cute couple in the weathered Corolla trying to leave a strip club in the middle of the afternoon, my humiliation grew and I covered my face in shame.  It wasn't that I was embarrassed to be seen leaving a strip club. I was embarrassed to be seen leaving a strip club in the middle of the afternoon.  Everyone knows the strip club day shift is full of, how shall we say, less tight, less elastic, more natural looking girls.  Translation: real boobs, flabby stomachs, and stretch marks.

I haven't asked around, but I don't think this town has a strip club.  Which seems like the right way to go, considering the average resident age seems to be about 65.

They do have an interesting antique store, called Blockbuster Video, filled with these neat things called DVD's.  The husband and I stopped in and rented the end of season one, beginning of season two of Dexter, which we plan to watch later this evening after enjoying the sunset from the patio.

Our B&B is not exactly what I expected.  In addition to having to make our own food, the place is kind of a mess.  Particularly the bedroom.  The previous guests left their clothes everywhere.   And the shoes.  The husband cannot get out of bed without piercing his foot on a heel.  There are these two adorable dogs, though, who snuggle with us in bed and are SO happy to see us when we return each day.  I'm thinking of taking them with us when we leave.

1 comment:

  1. I have just downloaded iStripper, and now I can watch the best virtual strippers on my taskbar.


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