my first trip out of the country... an hour by hour, play by play analysis of the fantasmical adventures of the gran
day one: hour one
we took a six hour delay, coded to cough syrup and ord. don't eat at blimpies. it's not good car food. the cows are big but they're not buffalo. my bank sucks and i don't know juanita and eduardo - they're not my children.
day one: hour two
second stop at the kickapoo kwik stop. in the bathroom, the tampon machine is chained and padlocked to the wall. no joke. i heard a grown man say the word n****r in a public place (and we're only in
day one: hour three
in the grand state of
day one: hour four
i really want a map; i can't access the one in brent's head. but i do know i want to stop at exit 52 and i want access to the money - we're going to the adult superstore, baby! okay. so i learned the hard way why i shouldn't keep my phone in my pocket - i just made a completely random phone call from the potty and left gran massa a 6 minute voice mail. you can hear me flushing. omg. maps! yay! and coloring books and crayons! double yay! except kari (who was wearing a bandaid on her nose from covering a nose piercing) tried to suck me into the conveyor belt - she scared me! gran
day one: hour five
not much to report here. lots of janis joplin, lots of therapy. i'm sending you a bill. or you can take it off my rent.
day one: hour six
word of the day: totagatic. it's similar to deltamatic and used to described totally ignorant and ganked up things in
day one: hour seven
baxter called, i adore that ringtone. :) plans have been made and my horoscope came true. how rockstar is that? time for granny's onion (ring) boobs and gran massa's friend pat rice, who makes kiddie car bombs for pre-adolescents and advises against actually ordering a car bomb while in ireland, apparently the outcome is different than that while in the states.
day one: hour eight
more granny's onion boobs and i played with the food. more pat rice.
day one: hour nine
it's dark. and it doesn't look much like east
day one: hour ten
vermillion motel, cook, mn. off to the cook muni, which is the local term for bar. brent's hot for the guy in the white shirt but he stands no chance because i'm the only one with tits for miles. (that and i'm not on meth.) six drinks and four shots for a grand total of 22$. rock on. and the bartender goes to
day one: hour eleven
afterparty at rachel's. she's a recovering meth addict and the way we find this out is by watching her play her tivo-ed news reports for us, as well as her "don't do meth" commercials where she looks like a cracked-out meth head. she's interesting. she has vodka somewhere in the house but i can't find it. mikey and white shirt boy are entertaining but the gran
day one: hour twelve
(at this point, i have no idea what hour it really is.) motel. bed. sleep sounds good. brent can't remember the name of the guy in the white shirt and thus has started referring to him as "fuck me hard." i've made a mental note not to touch the gran massa's bedding in the a.m. while getting up to turn off the light in the room, i went to get into bed and missed it entirely, landing on the floor after bouncing off the corner. this makes me laugh for a long, long time. gnite...
day two: hour 19
daylight. awake. phone ringing. we're in a room paneled from floor to ceiling in knotty pine, not naughty as in bad, but knotty. however the idea of naughty, naughty pine makes us giggle. then we're sort of weirded out when we realize that we have the same toothbrush. how bizarro is that? in
day two: hour 20
mcdonald's in cook is hiring. but they only want happy people. so neither of us can apply. our breakfast order consisted of the following: two sausage biscuits (mine), one steak and egg bagel (his), three milks (two white and one chocolate - all mine) and one bottle of water (his). do you think i ate a lot? take into consideration that the gran
day two: hour 21
we're in coochie county and i kissed a giant ass fish. brent has vowed to flirt with the customs agent in the hopes to get a body cavity search because he's not getting much lovin' these days. in hind sight, this may have been a poor decision. a revelation has occurred in the 01 gold alero: we're not as smart as we thought we were and i quickly prove this when i once again run my head into the ceiling of the car. this is like the third time i've done this over the course of the trip so far and i may be mildly concussed. it all started when i decided i wanted to take snow to home to send to baxter. international falls. is this how we get to
day two: hour 22
this hour is spent in the canadian customs office. we already cleared customs, but we voluntarily went in because i wanted a stamp in my virgin passport. so we voluntarily hand over our documents to a very angry looking and unpolite canandian gun toting fuckhead customs officer, who takes his time thumbing through the gran
they're way nicer. they laughed about him getting rejected by
day two: hour 23
back down the road and we're officially cusson (the city, that is) at
day two: hour 24
brent is thowing a hissy fit. i'm not sure why. we've figured out a way to make money in
day two: hour 25
day two: hour 26
i'm in a tizzy over the cubbies being sold and mark cuban as a prospective buyer. we recapped the last 26 hours and cracked ourselves up because that's how we roll. drove through the raging metropolis that is twig, mn... twigs are not just small sticks, apparently. but there are no berries in sight. it's really snowing now and i've decided that i want to dictate things for the gran massa to write down; he takes that to mean that i want a dick-ta phone - he apparently thinks i want a penis shaped phone, even though i don't like penises anywhere near my ears. i defined the meteorlogical term of blizzard in the hopes of getting brent to understand that not all snow equals a blizzard and i got him to admit that we are not driving in a blizzard.
day two: hour 27
day two: hour 28
captain's log (neener, neener, neener): we've got scared faces and noises. the roads suck. it's our luck to travel to
day two: hour 29
it's sleeting, which is rock star cool. my mom called to remind me how dumb this entire idea was. cars in the ditch... and another one. i accused the gran
day two: hour 30
i've heard the same two songs for two days straight now and if i ever hear natasha bedfuckingfield again i'm going to start kicking babies. meanwhile, the superfly gran
day two: hour 31
is that a beat? i think i hear a beat...
day two: hour 32
i've officially been ordered out of the car, and i'm not talking fast food style. nope, i was ordered out of the car in a stop, drop and roll, bitch, fashion and even got called kunt with a "k". RUDE. brent's macking on some dude from tol whom he wants to carry his baby via text message, it's the new and improved version of safe sex.
and you're now officially up to date. everything written from this point forward is written as it happens...
2039: i'm wondering if i should call baxter. we're pondering the sanity of this trip. it cost a little more than we expected and the results were not as splendiferous as they should have been. he almost got deported and i only got two magnets. however, we did meet a bunch of really nice meth heads in a cute little town, i got to swear at madison-ites which is my new favorite hobby and neither of us have showered yet today, which if you consider it, are the makings of a great vacation.
brent's top five highlights of trip to
- seeing pat rice
- being back up north
- the cook muni
- hearing janel fall out of the bed (tha-thump, tha-thump)
- being allowed back into the
janel's top five highlights of trip to
- falling off the bed in the middle of the night
- phone call from baxter
- i'm not a passport virgin!
- hearing the us border patrol make fun of brent about getting the body cavity search
- cook muni and the afterparty
janel's top five lowlights of trip to
- inconsistent cell phone service and brent's damn beep-beeping cell phone
- my fucking bank sucks
- getting to
and seeing only the inside of the customs office canada
- knowing that getting to see only the inside of the customs office is technically my fault :(
- i don't have that accent!
brent's top five lowlights of trip to
- lots and lots of white (snow). he doesn't think white is the new pink.
- gas prices.
- blimpies. not a good way to start a trip.
- us border patrol making fun of him possibly being anally probed.
- gas from granny's onion boobs.
2103: brent just made the most annoying sound in the world because he has five cell phone bars and i only have two. he just broke up with his text message baby carrying internet boyfriend, but the make up text sex will be great, if toledo timmy ever writes back.
2205: i talked to baxter. so sweet, i know he’s tired and has to get up early but he had time for my crazy ass “my roommate got rejected by nine million canadians” story. he asked why i didn't call him when i was drunk. oh honey. you think you know me, but you have no idea. a drunk superjanel with a phone in her hand is a dangerous, dangerous thing.
brent’s driving all over the road like a crazy ass crack whore, i don’t really know what that means but it can’t be good. we’re in
2208: the gran
2214: we’re still not home yet, i don’t think we’ll ever get home.
this is especially true because i got us lost on the detour. we ended up 15 miles north of the road we needed to be on, and while it was curvy and fun, i had to pee and he was pissy that we were lost. but now we're home. no fish have died and the cats are okay. all is well in the house of vehemence.
photos to come tomorrow. :)