Last night I was told by Johnny that I need to update my blog.
My response was to point out that, more urgently, we all needed to drink the Strawberry Boone’s Farm on the table and play obscenely named drinking games.
Because we are classy, classy individuals.
He is correct though. I have left y’all hanging and that is just poor form. It happens though, and in this case it was largely because I was away for 4 days of that week visiting Indie Jake in North Carolina. On that trip I made a number of observations:
• Charlotte is a lovely city but it appears to suffer from Chicago syndrome in that they keep their buildings too far apart. I pointed this out while we were driving “uptown” (which is apparently not “up” in the sense of being more north , but rather “up” in The Jefferson’s theme song de-luxe sense) by gesturing to the space between two buildings and noting that “They could put a whole bank between them.” To which I got the response, “Both of those buildings ARE banks.” Jeez! Not my point.
• While Charlotte knows how to make a cheeseburger (and serve it to you until 5 am. Though I am still a little bummed that I didn’t get to eat an actual penguin.), they don’t know shit about pizza. I should have gone with my instincts not to trust pizza from anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon Line in the US.
• It is possible, when set loose in a record store, for the two of us to lose an entire afternoon. The sentence also holds true if you replace the bit between the commas with “when provided a quality audio setup and Indie Jake’s MASSIVE music collection”. (I thoroughly expect someone to turn that into a dick joke in my comments section.)
• Noone should own that much travel-sized shampoos and conditioners. Especially not someone about whom dick jokes can be made. (Really people, I’m going to be kinda disappointed if it doesn’t happen.)
• You can totally throw off the employees of one (very tasty) national sandwichery if you order your dinner using their company jargon.
• Driving ten and a half hours feels almost exactly like driving seven hours. Frankly, I get the feeling anything above 5 hours is indistinguishable to your brain…and the nerves in your butt.
I consider that a Labor Day weekend well spent. I can only hope he learns as much when he comes up to visit me (and see NY for the first time) next weekend.
… And it isn’t even requiring me to chloroform him like I threatened. Which, by the way, his mother was strangely okay with.