Roadtrip time. This time it was to Texas. First stop with in Knoxville, Tennessee at Calhoun’s Restaurant. Delicious!
We continued on through Tennessee.
Next we made our way to Clarksdale, Mississippi to Morgan Freeman’s restaurant Ground Zero Blue Club. The food was delicious. Seriously some of the best food I’ve every had in my life. Deep fried grits with honey butter. Oh my god.
Next stop was Tara in Vicksburg, Mississippi. I love this place.
Next was Killeen, Texas. This is when we acquired our cargo.
Meet Shenandoah. She is Grace Kelly’s dog and she will be my dog until next July. She is a lovely pup and so sweet!
I’m sure people fear burying their parents, their children or their spouse. Some fear living outside, manual labor, or taking naked photos. Some fear going to war.
I don’t. Death is a part of life. All things come to an end and death is not something I fear. I don’t fear things that are beyond my control. I don’t fear the natural either. Somethings are the same no matter how many different ways you look at it.
War is not fearful. It is “necessary” because people/organizations crave power. But really, it’s overrated. I have seen many of my friends go to war. Luckily they have all come back. But inside, I know that they left a little piece of themselves in a war-torn country and they will never be the same. Grace Kelly is one of those.
What I fear is quiet simple.
Help. Asking for help.
I hope I never have to ask for handouts just to make it in this world. My biggest fear is failure. Coupled with failure is my refusal to ask for help. I hate to ask anyone to help me with anything. It’s stupid and irrational, but it’s a part of who I am. Because of this, I hope that I never ever have to ask for handouts for survival. I feel like there is enough in nature that I should need to do this. But unfortunately society has dictated that it is not dignified to live like a hippie. (Shameful.) I don’t need money for food, I have seeds. I don’t need money for water, I have creeks. I don’t need shelter, I can make that myself. I already have enough clothes to clothe a small army. Ha.
But seriously, asking someone to help me, in my mind, is like placing a burden upon them. I can see the burdens they carry. Why would I want to make their load heavier? I can survive, and if for some reason nature doesn’t allow me to become apart of it, then I’m meant to pass my soul forward.
I never want to get to the point that my life is dependent upon help from others.
I feel so much better. I finally got to sleep last night. I had been awake for 45 hours before I got to sleep in Dallas. I only slept say 6 hours. It wasn’t enough. I needed to rest more.
But that didn’t happen immediately. I had a drive to Ft. Hood to complete first, and then a cute puppy to play with. Shen is her name and she’s adorable! Shen and I played. Grace Kelly and I ate and watched movies. We were so dead from the previous night. Conversations didn’t happen. It was one word answers and head nods. Lots of silence, which I was in love with.
Last night I finally got that wish and slept for 11 hours, which is actually fairly normal from me. I woke up to Shen wanting to play. Texas is good, but its on to Mississippi tomorrow! In the mean time I’ll just prance around Ft. Hood.
If my year goes like last night did, oh boy. When I woke up this morning feeling like I was in the movie The Hangover. There was people and shit everywhere. There were 4 people in a king size bed, 2 or 3 more on the floor next to the bed. It was too much to handle.
Then it hit me. I had a pain in my leg. What the hell! I looked down to notice a softball size bruise on my shin. Puzzled I racked my foggy brain for an explanation. Nothing. Oh well. It happens. I didn’t have a hangover either. Usually I would be happy about this but I was majorly concerned. The hangover was coming and it was going to be horrible.
In my very puzzled state, I got ready for the day. Got in my truck. As soon as it started to move I realized I was still fucked up. Shit. That’s definitely not good. Even though I only drove a short distance today, it was work. Hangover prevention and trying to remember last night work.
Slowly things started to come back to me. I remember those vodka redbulls at the hotel. That’s how we started the night. Oh and the tequila shot (makes me quiver thinking about it). On to dinner, another vodka redbull. Steak and carrot was fucking delicious. On to the bar. Not my type of music and no redbull. Made the switch to jack and coke. Warded off advances from men, particularly Grace Kelly.
On to the hotel. Ran intervention for some of the ladies. Nobody likes a creeper. I had 7&7’s. I can’t tell you how many. Champaign at midnight. There were lots of shots. People dancing on tables. Visit from the cops. Loud music. Fireworks. I smoked cigarettes, which I never ever do. Lots of texting, some even came with pictures. Fuck yes! Lot of people taking pictures. Way too much PDA. Tattoo showing.
The light bulb went off. My bruise was because I fell off a table. Hahahahahaha! I gave myself a pat on the back for that one. I’m also missing a chunk of skin from my thumb and I have dried blood on my hands. Weird. Still don’t have an explanation for that.
The night was epic to say the least. I had stayed awake for 45 hours and partied like a rockstar. Now I’m crashing like Lindsey Lohan. Oh the price we pay for the things we do.
Today we left from Denver heading to Las Vegas. We started off our day seeing a sign that we didn’t see last night (below). It made me giggle just a little bit.
Next I discovered that my truck doesn’t like the higher altitude. Poor Vinny was struggling to accelerate and definitely didn’t feel like moving. After 5 minutes on the road, I got my second surprise of the day. Traffic. Lots of traffic. But I was able to view The Rockies. Beautiful. Then my beautiful Rockies became snow covered Rockies. The snow was my third surprise. It snowed and snowed and snowed some more. I looked at snow for about 10 hours today. But I digress.
That was the positive of my day. The negative began about an hour after I got up and the breakfast table. My annoying ass driving buddy told me he was going to bring someone back to the room. I told him I’d kill him. Then he said that given the chance I wouldn’t do. I told him he was dead wrong. Then he changed the subject and said he had a hard time breathing last night. I had to refrain from telling him its because he was fat and out of shape. That was all within an hour of being a wake and I’m not a morning person.
The day progressed and I tolerated him all day long until we got into Vegas and the hotel. I lost my nugget just a little bit. The torn in my side was acting like a little annoying fucking kid. “Come on. Come on. Come on. You know you have to be a little bit excited” which I’ve heard about 50 times today. I had enough. I told him very seriously that I’m not excited. This is not my fucking city and to drop the fucking subject. I didn’t want to hear another word about it. He’s response: “It’s just all in the attitude.” Me: “Yes and yours is really fucking immature. Case closed.”
After that we were ok. I told him that I needed some “me” time and for him to go out. I will have to say I got in some much needed shower time and chat time with Mr. Soup. He is sick, unfortunately, so I made him feel better via the phone. I boosted his night, but his health, sadly.
I also had some pleasant conversations with Mr. Boxer, Mr. Breadsticks, Sunshine, LadyFriend, Grace Kelly and Mr. Greek today. I thank them everyday for providing me endless hours of entertainment while on the road.
Now its off for veg time. I’m sleepy and ready to eat. Plus I need to prepare for the possible high five I’ll have to give tomorrow.
Ms. EatsPlentyOfCheeseburgers asked me recently to provide the background for all of my nicknames for people. After thinking about this some more, I think this may benefit a few others as well.
***Warning: If you are a male and you know me, you may not want to read this. (Hint. Hint. Mr. Boxer STOP READING!)***
Angel–Ex-boyfriend’s lady friend. She was such a sweetheart. Grace Kelly–He got his nickname from Mad TV’s “Can I have your number” Graham Cracker Express–His first name was graham and it just kinda stuck. Granny–My hateful grandmother on my mother’s side. HairSwoop–He has this thing he does with his hair. It’s like the Richmond comb over. We call it the hairswoop. It’s just bad, bad, bad, and he’ll be rocking that hairstyle for the rest of his life. Think a toned back Justin Bieber. Juliet–Her and her boyfriend, Romeo, are tied together at the hip. Mr. 8.5–You got this one already. 8.5 inches. Mr. Bear–He has chest fur, not hair, FUR! It’s that thick. Plus, we think that if he gets on all fours, his ass would be about the size of a bear’s ass. Mr. Breadstick–We got this lovely little nickname from the lack of what he was packing. It was a thin breadstick. One of the biggest disappointments of my life. Mr. Delicious—Oh sweet jesusssss!!! He is gorgeous. Enough said. Mr. Greek–Not exciting. He is from a greek family. Mr. Mosquito–Once again, lacking in the packing. I believe my exact quote to my cousin that earned him this nickname was “If this doesn’t work out, I won’t be disappointed. I was thinking WTF is that, a mosquito bite on your leg!” Mr. Nelson–His middle name is Nelson. Also where I got my nickname from. Mr. NotSoHotItalian–Never been more let down in my life. His background was italian, but nothing about the way he looked was. Sadness. Mr. Slap–He hit me. Only guy who ever has and he’s lucky he’s not dead. Mr. Soup–He is so hot but the LAX team tells me he is a soupy, old man ass. GAHHH! Ms. Granny–This would be another girlfriend of an ex. She was 27 I believe. Not old at all, but her mannerisms were that of grandma, or that of a freshman in high school. Based on the way she dressed, it tipped the scales to call her Ms. Granny versus CrazyBitch. Ms. INeedACheeseburger–She thin, thin, thinnnnn. One of Spangler’s runners. She needs to eat! Pig–I have never seen someone eat so much food in my life and stay so thin. He literally ate everything. Leftovers. GONE. Romeo–See Juliet. Sunshine–That’d be my cousin.
And for the most recent one that I referenced specifically at the beginning of this post, Mr. Boxer. It’s what it sounds like. He’s a boxer, along with being an athlete in several other sports.