Hello from Golden Colorado which is right next to Denver. Nebraska is a memory after a 450 mile drive. The total miles that I have driven is 1800 miles. The driving is beginning to get to me. The Puppies hair fell out days ago from the road noise, more specifically the brrrruuuupppppttttt sound of the warning strips on the side of the road. Monty has a nuclear meltdown each time the wind or traffic blows us to the side and I run over the warning strips. In Nebraska a warning strip was on the center line as well as the side line. Monty is not a happy camper. We have 1000 or more miles to go until we reach Saskatchewan.
We dropped anchor in a campground across from a biker bar. I should say we dropped anchor in the Mecca for loud bikes with full fledged dirt bags riding them as well as the new fashionable, college educated dirt bag wanna bees that ride them. All night and day long the bikes passed by the campground as well as the loud biker bar across the street. After we dropped anchor Deb heard a band playing, and so she decided we should walk over to Dirt Bag Roadhouse and listen to the band. I didn't think much about it until we walked up to the place with the dogs. Of course Monty and Riley make friends everywhere they go and as soon as we walked up a dirt bag wanted to pet them. Of course we said okay, but I quickly had second thoughts because that guy would likely give Monty and Riley fleas. As it turned out, this place was full of smelly, nasty, dirt bags that like to sit on loud Harley Davidson motorcycles racing their motors going broom, broom, broom. I think the matter falls under "The Mommy Look At Me Syndrome" as it was taught to me in Southern Boy University Psychics (pronounced physics) Department. I surmised that when the dirt bags were little dirt bags growing up their mommies wouldn't pay attention to them so they lacked parental attention . In order to garner the needed attention they quit bathing, grew their hair long, and started sitting on loud motorcycles going broom broom wanting the rest of us to act as attention surrogates for Mommy Dirtbag. So anyway Dirt Bag Roadhouse had a deck outside that allowed dogs. Monty and Riley were excited because everybody on the porch smelled like they had been rolling in poop just like Monty and Riley liked to do. So Deb and The Puppies got a table on the patio while I went inside to get us something to drink. I looked around the place trying to decide how many of these dirt bags I would need to whip before they learned to keep their opinions to themselves. But the dirt bags weren't as stupid as they looked but dang near as smelly. I walked up to the bar where a vicious looking dyke snarled at me and immediately recognized me as a person fond of bathing and getting haircuts. I have that trouble everywhere I go. I thought I was going to have to whip her wide butt too, but she realized she wanted to go home that night to her female (sort of) Mick Jagger looking "partner" and play Bull Dyke Monopoly or somesuch. So she snarled and begrudgingly gave me a Corona for Deb and a Diet Coke for me. I thought she was going to say something about the Diet Coke but she realized she wanted to put hotels on Miss Skank's Boardwalk later in the evening instead of rushing to the hospital for a Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy shoe in the buttectomy. It was a good thing too because I only brought the one pair of walking shoes and would need them. So I went back outside where Deb and The Puppies were and someone had gotten Monty and Riley a bowl of water. I sat down and waited for the bell to ring to start round one between The Dirt Bags and Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy, but it didn't happen. Instead we finished our drinks then walked back to The Love Boat and listened to more dirtbags with loud bikes pass by The Love Boat for the next 48 hours. The next day we had lunch with Deb's cousin and her husband that live there. No they don't ride a bike.
Deb's cousin gave us some tips on things to see around town. One of my most favorite was Red Rocks Amphitheater. Red Rocks was built into the side of a mountain during the first part of the 20th century. Red Rocks and has been legendary with musicians for decades. Red Rock has always been considered an honor for musicians to perform there. Red Rock's Museum was astounding with signed guitars and stuff from music legends. But you don't want to hear about that, right? Well we walked down to get a photo of the theater and an exercise class with hundreds of people was using the rowed seating as an exercise area. Before I go on you need to envision us standing looking down into the amphitheater with dozens of long rows of solid concrete benches going down to the stage. Got it? Okay. These people were jumping up on one row of seats then hopping up a level and doing the same thing over and over again while some jackass with a microphone told them to do it. I was a little perturbed that these people would screw up my pictureb but I got out my camera and looked through the viewfinder and focused the lens when I noticed the idjits were no longer jumping up on the seats but had now turned and were crawling down the seats with their butts up in the air pointed right at us. I kid you not they were crawling on their hands and knees down the seats. I got a picture of the idjits but can't post it until we get to Saskatoon, and I find the computer thing that will allow me to extract it from the camera's memory card. It is worth the wait as the, photo is hilarious.
We did some other stuff in the Golden/Denver area that I won't go into right now. Tomorrow we leave for the Black Hills of South Dakota where Mt. Rushmore is located. Have a great day and bye for now.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
2013 Canada Trip Pioneer Village-- Minden,NE-- June 27, 2013
Let's see. Where do I start whining today? I could talk about the wind during the drive from Lincoln, NE to Minden, NE. I'll sum it up with, it sucked and made my life miserable for 120 miles. Regardless, hello from Minden, NE.
Minden is a town in the center of Nebraska. Minden is a hundred miles from anything except fields of corn. Corn, corn, corn, and more corn. If I said corn another 250 times you would know what it is like driving in Nebraska. Oops. I meant wind, corn, wind, corn, wind, corn, etc. Now that is what it is like driving in Nebraska. We dropped The Love Boat's anchor behind the Pioneer Village Museum which was the reason for being in Minden besides spending time with Army Buddy. Minden used to be a thriving town on US 6 which was a major thorofare for folks heading out west. But, when the interstate was constructed 13 miles north of Minden, the town started its slow slide into non-existence. I can say that about hundreds or thousands of towns around the US. This guys named Harold Warp put Minden on the map a long time ago when he started Pioneer Village. Harold Warp made his money in plastics and more specifically Jiffy Wrap (you old codgers will remember Jiffy Wrap). Warp was born in Minden and made his money in Chicago but put the museum in Minden. I guess he didn't like Yankees either. The museum prospered until Warp died and the interstate was built. Your history lesson is over.
After we dropped anchor in Minden, Deb, Army Buddy, and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy went to the Pioneer Village Restaurant which was a short walk from The Love Boat. What a dive that "restaurant" was. The food looked and tasted like it had been preserved in a museum. I now know why we were the only people in the place. Yuck. But, while the slop was being "prepared" in the "kitchen" we walked around in the building. They had an incredible collection of carvings from famous sculptors in air tight cases built into the walls of the restaurant. Incredible wouldn't properly describe the collection. The display had tiny cards typed on a typewriter (here you old codgers will again remember a typewriter) describing the artist and usual stuff about the piece. Near the bathroom, there was a collection of old mechanical banks with the hand typed little cards in front of each. The late 19th and early 20th century mechanical banks were depicting black people in various states considered humorous at that time. The amazing thing I found was the little hand typed cards. The cards used words like darkey, negro boy, etc. in the descriptions. Those cards must have been 40 or more years old and were still being displayed. After eating in the restaurant I knew that we were the only people that had been in there in 40 years, so I guess we were the first to read them in 40 years. The little cards were a precursor to the museum.
The museum was amazing and astounding. Warp collected all kinds of things like an entire series of cars from a manufacturer (most manufactures including Hudson) were on display in 22 huge buildings. There was an entire building of old household appliances. There was an entire building of just about anything you can think of including an entire history of lawnmowers and chainsaws. There was a real Pony Express shack, a prairie school house, and an entire series of covered wagons. All of this stuff was kept in some ratty buildings. When Warp died the kids took over and are running the place into non-existence just like Minden. Holy moly this place was a miniature Smithsonian in ratty buildings in the windswept farms of Nebraska about 100 miles on the other side of nowhere. Army Buddy knew about this place and told me that we would go through it when The Love Boat sailed through town, and we did. Thanks Army Buddy.
Dude. Nothing funny occurred again today. Zilch,nada, nyet. I think the corn is effecting my brain. Tomorrow we are headed to Denver. I know funny things reside there.
See Yall tomorrow.
Minden is a town in the center of Nebraska. Minden is a hundred miles from anything except fields of corn. Corn, corn, corn, and more corn. If I said corn another 250 times you would know what it is like driving in Nebraska. Oops. I meant wind, corn, wind, corn, wind, corn, etc. Now that is what it is like driving in Nebraska. We dropped The Love Boat's anchor behind the Pioneer Village Museum which was the reason for being in Minden besides spending time with Army Buddy. Minden used to be a thriving town on US 6 which was a major thorofare for folks heading out west. But, when the interstate was constructed 13 miles north of Minden, the town started its slow slide into non-existence. I can say that about hundreds or thousands of towns around the US. This guys named Harold Warp put Minden on the map a long time ago when he started Pioneer Village. Harold Warp made his money in plastics and more specifically Jiffy Wrap (you old codgers will remember Jiffy Wrap). Warp was born in Minden and made his money in Chicago but put the museum in Minden. I guess he didn't like Yankees either. The museum prospered until Warp died and the interstate was built. Your history lesson is over.
After we dropped anchor in Minden, Deb, Army Buddy, and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy went to the Pioneer Village Restaurant which was a short walk from The Love Boat. What a dive that "restaurant" was. The food looked and tasted like it had been preserved in a museum. I now know why we were the only people in the place. Yuck. But, while the slop was being "prepared" in the "kitchen" we walked around in the building. They had an incredible collection of carvings from famous sculptors in air tight cases built into the walls of the restaurant. Incredible wouldn't properly describe the collection. The display had tiny cards typed on a typewriter (here you old codgers will again remember a typewriter) describing the artist and usual stuff about the piece. Near the bathroom, there was a collection of old mechanical banks with the hand typed little cards in front of each. The late 19th and early 20th century mechanical banks were depicting black people in various states considered humorous at that time. The amazing thing I found was the little hand typed cards. The cards used words like darkey, negro boy, etc. in the descriptions. Those cards must have been 40 or more years old and were still being displayed. After eating in the restaurant I knew that we were the only people that had been in there in 40 years, so I guess we were the first to read them in 40 years. The little cards were a precursor to the museum.
The museum was amazing and astounding. Warp collected all kinds of things like an entire series of cars from a manufacturer (most manufactures including Hudson) were on display in 22 huge buildings. There was an entire building of old household appliances. There was an entire building of just about anything you can think of including an entire history of lawnmowers and chainsaws. There was a real Pony Express shack, a prairie school house, and an entire series of covered wagons. All of this stuff was kept in some ratty buildings. When Warp died the kids took over and are running the place into non-existence just like Minden. Holy moly this place was a miniature Smithsonian in ratty buildings in the windswept farms of Nebraska about 100 miles on the other side of nowhere. Army Buddy knew about this place and told me that we would go through it when The Love Boat sailed through town, and we did. Thanks Army Buddy.
Dude. Nothing funny occurred again today. Zilch,nada, nyet. I think the corn is effecting my brain. Tomorrow we are headed to Denver. I know funny things reside there.
See Yall tomorrow.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
2013 Canada Trip--Lincoln, NE --Army Buddy, Wind --June 12, 2013
Hello from Lincoln, Nebraska which is the home of Army Buddy. Army Buddy is a friend from the days of when my hair was brown and America had hopes for the future. Dang, I got depressing all of a sudden. There should have been a sign warning this. Whatever.
We drove from Missouri through Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Missouri, through a small portion of Iowa, finally ending up in northeastern Nebraska. Dude the winds were horrible in Nebraska. Army Buddy tells me that the winds we experienced were normal and usual. Dude. The wind would strike the side of The Love Boat and push it around the road like a toy. A 12 foot high, 35 foot long, 8 1/2 foot wide, 10 ton toy. Big Ole Dumb Southern Boys aren't structured for winds like that but Nebraskans are. Southern Boys only get wind like that during a hurricane but it was just another day in Nebraska. Dude.
Lincoln is a clean and safe town with very little crime. I think I might like to spend some time there if it were not for the wind, tornadoes, bitterly cold winters, and summers worse than Raleighwood. Other than that it is a paradise. I must admit I liked every person I spoke to in Lincoln. They all seemed sincerely nice (shocked from cold winters, hot summers, tornadoes, and the wind) but nice. Or they were enthralled with my charming southern accent. Regardless, Army Buddy is really proud of his town, and it was nice visiting it.
We took The Puppies to a dog groomer in Lincoln for doggie torture. Both pups were mad when Deb picked them up. They did look nice and fluffy but mad. Deb likes to take them to groomers when we are on the road. Speaking of The Puppies, I want a flashing neon sign that says, "The dogs are Keeshonds" because regardless of where we are we always get people to stop us, then tell us The Puppies are so beautiful, and ask us what is their breed.. At last count we have answered that question 478,623,781,123 times give or take a couple times. Monty and Riley are Keeshond ambassadors, mad Keeshond ambassadors, but ambassadors nonetheless.
Today's entry was pretty lame. I didn't really find anything in Lincoln funny or unusual. We leave for Minden, NE very soon. Minden is about 120 miles due west of Lincoln, NE. There is an old museum there that I am told is quite neat.
Bye for now.
We drove from Missouri through Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Missouri, through a small portion of Iowa, finally ending up in northeastern Nebraska. Dude the winds were horrible in Nebraska. Army Buddy tells me that the winds we experienced were normal and usual. Dude. The wind would strike the side of The Love Boat and push it around the road like a toy. A 12 foot high, 35 foot long, 8 1/2 foot wide, 10 ton toy. Big Ole Dumb Southern Boys aren't structured for winds like that but Nebraskans are. Southern Boys only get wind like that during a hurricane but it was just another day in Nebraska. Dude.
Lincoln is a clean and safe town with very little crime. I think I might like to spend some time there if it were not for the wind, tornadoes, bitterly cold winters, and summers worse than Raleighwood. Other than that it is a paradise. I must admit I liked every person I spoke to in Lincoln. They all seemed sincerely nice (shocked from cold winters, hot summers, tornadoes, and the wind) but nice. Or they were enthralled with my charming southern accent. Regardless, Army Buddy is really proud of his town, and it was nice visiting it.
We took The Puppies to a dog groomer in Lincoln for doggie torture. Both pups were mad when Deb picked them up. They did look nice and fluffy but mad. Deb likes to take them to groomers when we are on the road. Speaking of The Puppies, I want a flashing neon sign that says, "The dogs are Keeshonds" because regardless of where we are we always get people to stop us, then tell us The Puppies are so beautiful, and ask us what is their breed.. At last count we have answered that question 478,623,781,123 times give or take a couple times. Monty and Riley are Keeshond ambassadors, mad Keeshond ambassadors, but ambassadors nonetheless.
Today's entry was pretty lame. I didn't really find anything in Lincoln funny or unusual. We leave for Minden, NE very soon. Minden is about 120 miles due west of Lincoln, NE. There is an old museum there that I am told is quite neat.
Bye for now.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
2013 Canada Trip Columbia, MO-- Softball Complex, Signs--- June 10, 2013
Hello for Columbia, Missouri. I won't go into the MissurA thing again right now.
I am about tired (pronounced tarred) of being wet. The last few days of Raleighwood's weather was Tropical Storm Andrea which made life really, really wet. Even with raingear I was wet for 3 straight days. The last couple days haven't been much different with heavy bands of rain then momentary sunlight then more heavy rain. You get the picture. Boo hoo water the flowers. I can't stand myself when I whine.
We moored The Loveboat somewhere in Missouri for lunch at a China Garden Restaurant. Does every Chinese Restaurant need to be called China Garden? Sort of seems that way to me. But what do I know? After spending another 500 miles in The Love Boat, we dropped anchor for the night in Columbia, Missouri. Now I bet you think I am going to poke fun at the people in the campground? Come on. Admit it. Well I'm not. Well maybe a little. After we checked into the campground we went for a walk on a road next to the campground that went to the county fairgrounds (no biggie) and to the town's "Softball Complex". I always thought softball wasn't complicated at all, but I guess it is in Columbia. This "complex" had several really nice ball fields with lights, buildings, and lots of people playing on their complex fields. We walked around and decided to stop and watch a game with middle and junior high school kids. I forgot to mention that The Puppies (Monty and Riley) were along on our walk. We sat on some empty bleachers save a woman and man that were on opposite ends and about 4 feet from the ground. The bleachers were about 25 feet in length. Riley being Riley and always in need of attention decided he would explore as far as his leash allowed hunting for new sources of attention. Riley went up to the man but the man wasn't interested. So he went up to the woman but was only able to get within 5 or so feet of her. The woman saw Riley and jumped up and moved to the bleachers beside ours to get away from him. I hoped she doesn't do that when she has dinner at someone's house, and they put brussels sprouts on her plate. Geez Louise. I think she hurt Riley's feelings acting like Riley was a pit bull or Rottweiler. I surmised she was a communist. I can tell. So we left a few minutes later, but I made sure Riley got to walk past her. Communistic brussel sprout hopper.
I forgot to mention some stuff about Franfort, KY. The road leading into the Frankfort campground had signs that said, "All vehicles must have a licensed operator and NO JOY RIDING" and "No electronic vehicles allowed". Now the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy was intrigued as to what joy riding entailed and what in the world was an electronic vehicle. A depressed person wrote those signs. I guess the signs would mean if you are riding to work, you weren't enjoying yourself so that would qualify. If you were riding to the dentist you certainly wouldn't be enjoying yourself and would likewise qualify. BUT, if you were riding to pick up your $10 million dollars of lottery winnings you would be guilty of JOY RIDING punishable by having to stay another night at the campground. Now the electronic vehicle thing got me to thinking. I envisioned a big transistor with wheels on it making beeping sounds like the Dalek in the Dr. Who series. The epitome of troubles would be if you were riding a Dalek and going to pick up your lottery winnings, then you would be damned to Hell and would need to spend eternity in Frankfort. I decided I wouldn't joy ride in that park.
Campgrounds are always full of signs and the Frankfort campground had another intriguing sign that made me go HMMMM. I should explain a little about the campground; it had a creek beside it.The creek was not bubbling, frolicking, or gently traveling. It was big, ugly, and looked like a place water moccasins would have family reunions. This creek was bounded on the campground side with very high earthen wall to hinder, I guess, the occasional flooding of the campground. Besides the creek there wasn't any other water nearby especially not a lake. Just a big creek mind you. That being said a person had a sign on his small travel trailer that stated, "Jim's House At The Lake". Lake Boy Jim must have thought I was "simple" or something because I stopped and stared at his sign. Bouncing around inside my brain were thoughts of needing more coffee, wanting to take a nap, if Riley was going to poop in Lake Boy Jim's Yard at The Lake, and that Lake Boy Jim wasn't too bright. Lake Boy Jim wasn't at any lake, and he sure wasn't in a house. I surmised that Lake Boy Jim had aspired his entire life to have a house at the lake, and he wasn't going to let a few huge details destroy his delusions of grandeur. I'll betcha I know who Lake Boy voted for in the last delusional election. Maybe Lake Boy is damned and will spend eternity in the campground with complex softballs striking his lake house day and night.
Tomorrow is Lincoln, Nebraska. We have not been to Kansas, Iowa, and Nebraska. No I have not had delusional expectations or anything about those states. We shall see what unfolds tomorrow.
Bye for now.
I am about tired (pronounced tarred) of being wet. The last few days of Raleighwood's weather was Tropical Storm Andrea which made life really, really wet. Even with raingear I was wet for 3 straight days. The last couple days haven't been much different with heavy bands of rain then momentary sunlight then more heavy rain. You get the picture. Boo hoo water the flowers. I can't stand myself when I whine.
We moored The Loveboat somewhere in Missouri for lunch at a China Garden Restaurant. Does every Chinese Restaurant need to be called China Garden? Sort of seems that way to me. But what do I know? After spending another 500 miles in The Love Boat, we dropped anchor for the night in Columbia, Missouri. Now I bet you think I am going to poke fun at the people in the campground? Come on. Admit it. Well I'm not. Well maybe a little. After we checked into the campground we went for a walk on a road next to the campground that went to the county fairgrounds (no biggie) and to the town's "Softball Complex". I always thought softball wasn't complicated at all, but I guess it is in Columbia. This "complex" had several really nice ball fields with lights, buildings, and lots of people playing on their complex fields. We walked around and decided to stop and watch a game with middle and junior high school kids. I forgot to mention that The Puppies (Monty and Riley) were along on our walk. We sat on some empty bleachers save a woman and man that were on opposite ends and about 4 feet from the ground. The bleachers were about 25 feet in length. Riley being Riley and always in need of attention decided he would explore as far as his leash allowed hunting for new sources of attention. Riley went up to the man but the man wasn't interested. So he went up to the woman but was only able to get within 5 or so feet of her. The woman saw Riley and jumped up and moved to the bleachers beside ours to get away from him. I hoped she doesn't do that when she has dinner at someone's house, and they put brussels sprouts on her plate. Geez Louise. I think she hurt Riley's feelings acting like Riley was a pit bull or Rottweiler. I surmised she was a communist. I can tell. So we left a few minutes later, but I made sure Riley got to walk past her. Communistic brussel sprout hopper.
I forgot to mention some stuff about Franfort, KY. The road leading into the Frankfort campground had signs that said, "All vehicles must have a licensed operator and NO JOY RIDING" and "No electronic vehicles allowed". Now the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy was intrigued as to what joy riding entailed and what in the world was an electronic vehicle. A depressed person wrote those signs. I guess the signs would mean if you are riding to work, you weren't enjoying yourself so that would qualify. If you were riding to the dentist you certainly wouldn't be enjoying yourself and would likewise qualify. BUT, if you were riding to pick up your $10 million dollars of lottery winnings you would be guilty of JOY RIDING punishable by having to stay another night at the campground. Now the electronic vehicle thing got me to thinking. I envisioned a big transistor with wheels on it making beeping sounds like the Dalek in the Dr. Who series. The epitome of troubles would be if you were riding a Dalek and going to pick up your lottery winnings, then you would be damned to Hell and would need to spend eternity in Frankfort. I decided I wouldn't joy ride in that park.
Campgrounds are always full of signs and the Frankfort campground had another intriguing sign that made me go HMMMM. I should explain a little about the campground; it had a creek beside it.The creek was not bubbling, frolicking, or gently traveling. It was big, ugly, and looked like a place water moccasins would have family reunions. This creek was bounded on the campground side with very high earthen wall to hinder, I guess, the occasional flooding of the campground. Besides the creek there wasn't any other water nearby especially not a lake. Just a big creek mind you. That being said a person had a sign on his small travel trailer that stated, "Jim's House At The Lake". Lake Boy Jim must have thought I was "simple" or something because I stopped and stared at his sign. Bouncing around inside my brain were thoughts of needing more coffee, wanting to take a nap, if Riley was going to poop in Lake Boy Jim's Yard at The Lake, and that Lake Boy Jim wasn't too bright. Lake Boy Jim wasn't at any lake, and he sure wasn't in a house. I surmised that Lake Boy Jim had aspired his entire life to have a house at the lake, and he wasn't going to let a few huge details destroy his delusions of grandeur. I'll betcha I know who Lake Boy voted for in the last delusional election. Maybe Lake Boy is damned and will spend eternity in the campground with complex softballs striking his lake house day and night.
Tomorrow is Lincoln, Nebraska. We have not been to Kansas, Iowa, and Nebraska. No I have not had delusional expectations or anything about those states. We shall see what unfolds tomorrow.
Bye for now.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
2013 Canada Trip. KY Jelly, Monkeys, Cooterville --Frankfort, KY June 9, 2013
Hi de ho Kmart shoppers, it has been a while. In case you didn't get the memo, we are on the way to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Yes, I can spell Saskatchewan easily. We are in Franfort, KY where KY means Kentucky not KY Jelly as in the world has been my personal proctologist except the world hasn't been using KY Jelly on me. Boo hoo water the flowers. In the coming weeks I will enlighten you more about the past couple weeks a little at a time so your head doesn't explode all over your monitor. But for now I shall pause my whining and get onto fun and games.
We left Raleighwood this morning about half past I don't give a rat's butt, because we left when I had been taught my hard earned lessons for the day. I believe it was about 9am, actually who know and who cares, it was half past a rat's butt. We drove until we got to Winston Salem where we stopped in a somewhat dangerous place and got some caffeine-free Cheerwine soda. Now I love Cheerwine because I am a boy (old boy but still a boy) that grew up with Cheerwine which is actually a softdrink that resembles a cherry coke or somesuch. Anyway, I like Cheerwine as I always have but can't get the caffiene-free version in Raleighwood because some nitwit marketing slug thinks Raleighwoodites need all the caffeine they can get. However, this Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy can't tolerate caffeine anymore because it makes parts of my body thump in pain almost as horribly as Teddy Kennedy's liquored up head the morning after car scuba diving in Lake Chappaquiddick. I am surely going to Hell after that last reference. Dang, I forgot where I was. Oh year, Cheerwine. Well, we stopped and bought the mamby pamby version of Cheerwine and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy is all happy again. Of course I had to put my life in peril to get it by walking through the parking lot of Winston Salem Crackwhore Pimp Central Food Lion's parking lot. Geez Louise. I am having one now sitting here is Frankfort, KY (Kentucky not KY Jelly).
Speaking of Frankfort, this place is between Lexington and Louisville, you know behind the big rock and left at where Cooter ran the gas station. I am told Frankfort is the capitol of Kentucky even though I can't remember from grade school which bohunk Cooterville in KY (dang there you go again, KY means Kentucky) is the truthful capitol. I ain't sure about where we are but I am sure that we are with some scary looking people. Cooterville must be a bright light in the sea of darkness for the scary human moths of the world. You know that saying about if you give a bunch of monkeys a bunch of computers the monkeys through sheer coincidence will eventually type out something important like the Constitution? Well the monkeys, scary looking monkeys mind you, are in this campground and they all have computers and they are trying to type out a blog like mine about Cooterville KY (don't make it say it again). I'll bet the monkeys will refer to Cooterville as Cootervillewood like the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy. I'll bet the monkeys are trying to be all smartalecky like The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy too. Dang monkeys. Stupid Cooterville. It only takes one monkey with one computer to write this blog. Stupid monkeys.
Tomorrow we are headed through St Louis and plan to stop and see the Arch. If my luck holds true then the dang Arch will fall on me, and I'll have to pay for it. The world's proctologists are everywhere. Why shouldn't Missouri (pronounced mizz zur ra not mizz zur e) be any different. Ooh no, they need to be different in MizzzurA. I'll bet the monkeys in this park worked overtime in MizzurA trying to find a stupid way to pronounce MizzurE.
I am going to sign off now and go to bed and dream about monkeys, KY Jelly, and Cooterville. We'll see what tomorrow brings. The day after we will be in Nebraska where Army Buddy lives.
Bye for now.
We left Raleighwood this morning about half past I don't give a rat's butt, because we left when I had been taught my hard earned lessons for the day. I believe it was about 9am, actually who know and who cares, it was half past a rat's butt. We drove until we got to Winston Salem where we stopped in a somewhat dangerous place and got some caffeine-free Cheerwine soda. Now I love Cheerwine because I am a boy (old boy but still a boy) that grew up with Cheerwine which is actually a softdrink that resembles a cherry coke or somesuch. Anyway, I like Cheerwine as I always have but can't get the caffiene-free version in Raleighwood because some nitwit marketing slug thinks Raleighwoodites need all the caffeine they can get. However, this Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy can't tolerate caffeine anymore because it makes parts of my body thump in pain almost as horribly as Teddy Kennedy's liquored up head the morning after car scuba diving in Lake Chappaquiddick. I am surely going to Hell after that last reference. Dang, I forgot where I was. Oh year, Cheerwine. Well, we stopped and bought the mamby pamby version of Cheerwine and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy is all happy again. Of course I had to put my life in peril to get it by walking through the parking lot of Winston Salem Crackwhore Pimp Central Food Lion's parking lot. Geez Louise. I am having one now sitting here is Frankfort, KY (Kentucky not KY Jelly).
Speaking of Frankfort, this place is between Lexington and Louisville, you know behind the big rock and left at where Cooter ran the gas station. I am told Frankfort is the capitol of Kentucky even though I can't remember from grade school which bohunk Cooterville in KY (dang there you go again, KY means Kentucky) is the truthful capitol. I ain't sure about where we are but I am sure that we are with some scary looking people. Cooterville must be a bright light in the sea of darkness for the scary human moths of the world. You know that saying about if you give a bunch of monkeys a bunch of computers the monkeys through sheer coincidence will eventually type out something important like the Constitution? Well the monkeys, scary looking monkeys mind you, are in this campground and they all have computers and they are trying to type out a blog like mine about Cooterville KY (don't make it say it again). I'll bet the monkeys will refer to Cooterville as Cootervillewood like the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy. I'll bet the monkeys are trying to be all smartalecky like The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy too. Dang monkeys. Stupid Cooterville. It only takes one monkey with one computer to write this blog. Stupid monkeys.
Tomorrow we are headed through St Louis and plan to stop and see the Arch. If my luck holds true then the dang Arch will fall on me, and I'll have to pay for it. The world's proctologists are everywhere. Why shouldn't Missouri (pronounced mizz zur ra not mizz zur e) be any different. Ooh no, they need to be different in MizzzurA. I'll bet the monkeys in this park worked overtime in MizzurA trying to find a stupid way to pronounce MizzurE.
I am going to sign off now and go to bed and dream about monkeys, KY Jelly, and Cooterville. We'll see what tomorrow brings. The day after we will be in Nebraska where Army Buddy lives.
Bye for now.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Rally, Earnhardt, Bumperstickers---Daytona, FL Nov 2, 2012
Well hello again. It has been a while, but I haven't had anything to
say--yeah right. Truth be told I never write about stuff around home.
Period. But, we are not at home now. We are at a Good Sam's Rally in
Daytona, Florida located in the infield of Daytona Motorspeedway. And
yes, I have seen a couple "In Rememberance of #3 Dale Earnhardt" signs.
Geez Louise will these people ever give up? Ding, ding, ding, the
answer is no. I equate those Earnhardt folks with the women that drive
wittle minivans with "Soccer Mom" bumperstickers. In the first case,
those folks likely never got closer to Earnhardt than their TV screen
and should get a life. In the later case, those people should find
something more constructive to refer to themselves and should also get a life. I must say I am
thankful for both cases, because I can start my fun poking session
right off the bat. Let's talk more about the rally.
This rally has tons of RV related manufacturers in attendance including every motorhome made. This is truly something to see if you like RVs. As far as my eye (my good eye) can see there are RVs parked with colorful people walking around. And the best part is that I am one of the youngest people here. Yeah buddy. RVers are known for being cheap or rather a small group of them have exemplified that behavior which ultimately resulted in the majority being given a label. Regardless, the idjits are plentiful and give me lots of funny ammunition to talk about in the blog.
Yesterday we registered for the rally at the registration area located in the race car inspectors building. The event staff gave us an armful of printed crap about the rally and one of the pieces was a couple numbers printed on huge stickers that said "find your matching number and get a free prize" or some nonsense along those lines.I knew as soon as I saw the stickers that this was going to make the blog. Well here it is. The free prize so eloquently referred to is a stupid t-shirt that I wouldn't walk across the street to pee on to put it out if it were ablaze. But everyone was asked to wear the stickers and look for their matching numbers on the other morons wearing the numbers. Now you probably guessed The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy ain't wearing any stupid sticker and neither is The Queen of the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy's Doublewide. But as you can guess lots of people did and some actually carried ignorance to an American Idol level. One woman walked up to me and shouted a number in my face and said something trailer trashy about being her match. I thought that my only match with her would be my big ole hairy butt and her face, but my big ole hairy butt had less hair than the monkey butt that she called a face. This woman probably was in the Dale Earnhardt trailer. What compels a woman to obsess over a t-shirt other than stupidity or Jim Beam? Holy moly, I would have to remove half my brain to be married to her.
Tomorrow, I am going to walk the raceway's track which is only about 3.5 miles. That is less than my daily walk so it shouldn't be too much trouble other than the 30 degree banked turns. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I did say 30 degree paved turns and that is physics at its best. The Love Boat is moored about 100 yards from the track's finish line in the infield. I think the road we abut (no abut not my big ole hairy butt) is part of the motorcycle or infield racing track. Beats me how that works, however, the inner track is now the walking path for the attendees going to and from their Earnhardt decorated manufactured mobile housing units. This huge track is a little town all to itself with Yankees, Big ole Dumb Southern boys, Doublewide Queens, every breed of dog ever known, and idjits with Earnhardt and "Are You My Match" stickers as inhabitants. For a guy like me with a sense of humor this place is superb.
In case you picked up on the reference to The Love Boat, yes we are in old motorhome. The new motorhome is moored in Raleigh and mired in a lawsuit to which I cannot discuss. I can say that the new motorhome's odometer was tampered with. I can't discuss this further until after the lawyers finish. I will gladly name names later.
Kenny Rogers is the entertainment tonight and Reba McEntire is tomorrow. I am going to carry my camera today because I don't have words to describe some of the stuff that I see. Oh, I have not seen a BO for prez bumpersticker in the entire area but dozens of Romney ads.
Bye for now.
This rally has tons of RV related manufacturers in attendance including every motorhome made. This is truly something to see if you like RVs. As far as my eye (my good eye) can see there are RVs parked with colorful people walking around. And the best part is that I am one of the youngest people here. Yeah buddy. RVers are known for being cheap or rather a small group of them have exemplified that behavior which ultimately resulted in the majority being given a label. Regardless, the idjits are plentiful and give me lots of funny ammunition to talk about in the blog.
Yesterday we registered for the rally at the registration area located in the race car inspectors building. The event staff gave us an armful of printed crap about the rally and one of the pieces was a couple numbers printed on huge stickers that said "find your matching number and get a free prize" or some nonsense along those lines.I knew as soon as I saw the stickers that this was going to make the blog. Well here it is. The free prize so eloquently referred to is a stupid t-shirt that I wouldn't walk across the street to pee on to put it out if it were ablaze. But everyone was asked to wear the stickers and look for their matching numbers on the other morons wearing the numbers. Now you probably guessed The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy ain't wearing any stupid sticker and neither is The Queen of the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy's Doublewide. But as you can guess lots of people did and some actually carried ignorance to an American Idol level. One woman walked up to me and shouted a number in my face and said something trailer trashy about being her match. I thought that my only match with her would be my big ole hairy butt and her face, but my big ole hairy butt had less hair than the monkey butt that she called a face. This woman probably was in the Dale Earnhardt trailer. What compels a woman to obsess over a t-shirt other than stupidity or Jim Beam? Holy moly, I would have to remove half my brain to be married to her.
Tomorrow, I am going to walk the raceway's track which is only about 3.5 miles. That is less than my daily walk so it shouldn't be too much trouble other than the 30 degree banked turns. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I did say 30 degree paved turns and that is physics at its best. The Love Boat is moored about 100 yards from the track's finish line in the infield. I think the road we abut (no abut not my big ole hairy butt) is part of the motorcycle or infield racing track. Beats me how that works, however, the inner track is now the walking path for the attendees going to and from their Earnhardt decorated manufactured mobile housing units. This huge track is a little town all to itself with Yankees, Big ole Dumb Southern boys, Doublewide Queens, every breed of dog ever known, and idjits with Earnhardt and "Are You My Match" stickers as inhabitants. For a guy like me with a sense of humor this place is superb.
In case you picked up on the reference to The Love Boat, yes we are in old motorhome. The new motorhome is moored in Raleigh and mired in a lawsuit to which I cannot discuss. I can say that the new motorhome's odometer was tampered with. I can't discuss this further until after the lawyers finish. I will gladly name names later.
Kenny Rogers is the entertainment tonight and Reba McEntire is tomorrow. I am going to carry my camera today because I don't have words to describe some of the stuff that I see. Oh, I have not seen a BO for prez bumpersticker in the entire area but dozens of Romney ads.
Bye for now.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Home, Sneering--Raleigh, NC Jan 21, 2012
Good golly Miss Molly we are home. We drove from Greenville to Raleigh today. The Love Boat and Roadrunner are moored at the state fairgrounds awaiting cargo removal and cleaning before dry docking at the storage facility. Dang, I carried the nautical theme too far. We are going to wash and cleanup both motorhomes before they go to storage. Both motorhomes are filthy from the mud and rain. Yes, I said rain. It is a foreign concept to us as we became desert dwellers. The rain has been fun to watch.
Roadrunner is a fast motorhome. It drives and rides so much better than The Love Boat. We miss The Love Boat though. That motorhome has been shelter and transportation to us for 2 NC to CA trips and 1 NC to Saskatchewan trip--to you Americans (pronounced A MUR A KINS), Saskatchewan is that spot on the map above Montana and North Dakota. You know where the map stops and the world ends according to most A MUR A KINS. Anyway, you might say The Love Boat took us to the end of the earth as known by A MUR A KINS. We will miss it. I will not miss sleeping in Roadrunner's bathtub or commonly called that stupid leaking Select Comfort mattress. This is where I sneer with disgust after not having a working mattress for 2200 miles. Actually this where I double sneer for not having a working mattress for 2200 miles. You can take my word I am really sneering now. Really.
I took Walter and Melissa to Walter's aunt's house tonight to get Melissa's car. I should mention that Walter pronounces aunt like AAAAAANTTT with a long A instead of ANT like the rest of us heathens. Anyway Walter's AAAAAAANTT's name is Kat, and Kat told me that a nice lady from church who was 100 years old "finally" died. Of course Kat didn't mean to say finally but the word left her mouth and frolicked around the yard, hit the house and 2 neighbor's cars then bounced off the pavement and FINALLY jumped into our ears. I looked at Kat and said that she just FINALLY made the blog and she laughed. Well Kat, here it is. The lady that died will be deeply missed by us all and (finally) Kat too.
Anyway, it is getting late and I need to go sleep on a regular mattress that won't deflate. I'll write more manana. Oh, I start my third class in Spanish this week. Oh goody.
Al
Roadrunner is a fast motorhome. It drives and rides so much better than The Love Boat. We miss The Love Boat though. That motorhome has been shelter and transportation to us for 2 NC to CA trips and 1 NC to Saskatchewan trip--to you Americans (pronounced A MUR A KINS), Saskatchewan is that spot on the map above Montana and North Dakota. You know where the map stops and the world ends according to most A MUR A KINS. Anyway, you might say The Love Boat took us to the end of the earth as known by A MUR A KINS. We will miss it. I will not miss sleeping in Roadrunner's bathtub or commonly called that stupid leaking Select Comfort mattress. This is where I sneer with disgust after not having a working mattress for 2200 miles. Actually this where I double sneer for not having a working mattress for 2200 miles. You can take my word I am really sneering now. Really.
I took Walter and Melissa to Walter's aunt's house tonight to get Melissa's car. I should mention that Walter pronounces aunt like AAAAAANTTT with a long A instead of ANT like the rest of us heathens. Anyway Walter's AAAAAAANTT's name is Kat, and Kat told me that a nice lady from church who was 100 years old "finally" died. Of course Kat didn't mean to say finally but the word left her mouth and frolicked around the yard, hit the house and 2 neighbor's cars then bounced off the pavement and FINALLY jumped into our ears. I looked at Kat and said that she just FINALLY made the blog and she laughed. Well Kat, here it is. The lady that died will be deeply missed by us all and (finally) Kat too.
Anyway, it is getting late and I need to go sleep on a regular mattress that won't deflate. I'll write more manana. Oh, I start my third class in Spanish this week. Oh goody.
Al
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