The last roadtrip I took was a “BBQ Tour of Memphis.” It may have had a snappier name, like, “Beef and Pork and Ribs, OH MY,” or “Let’s Call Into Work Fat” or something.
Either way, I earned my first nickname, “Leadfoot,” when I learned a little something about Southern Illinois: law enforcement has very little to do beyond design and execute elaborate speed-traps for people who like to drive over one hundred miles per hour on the highway. I also learned another fun fact: BBQ Spaghetti is, in fact, the least appealing food on the planet.
The More You Know, and all.
Consider that my blogging PSA for the year.
I didn’t design or execute that particular roadtrip but I did tag along. I jump at any excuse View Postto go to Memphis. That roadtrip, as I think of it, was the last time I remember feeling free. Life got pretty tough after that, and it’s been pretty tough (although not without it’s shiny points) ever since.
You can tell that I didn’t design that roadtrip, though, because it makes sense. Things I tend to design, well, they don’t. This is why I need a partner on my adventure.
Roadtrips I design have been as follows:
“Let’s go Down South to buy sunglasses.”
(“down south” is anywhere south of Chicago off I-47)
“Let’s take a bunch of left turns. Wherever we end up, that’s where Elvis will be. Or a natty pair of shades! Or that weird drink with the blobs floating in it.”
(Do you remember that drink? That shit was nasty)
“How about we go down to U of I Champaign/Urbana for some Chinese Food? By the time we get there, it should be morning and that Chinese place will be open!”
*shrugs* “We’ll know it when we get there. Let’s just GO.”
I tend to lack common sense which is why I surround myself with people who DO have common sense so that I don’t decide to invest my life’s savings (read: five dollars) in Fry Daddies and Twinkies because *shrugs* “it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
So that’s kind of why I figured that if I was going to, in fact, get in the car and drive around, I should probably meet up with you Pranksters. I mean, I’m sure there’s a significant number of you who will lead me into situations where I will be forced to yell, “SOMEBODY GET THIS FREAKING DUCK OUTTA HERE,” alternately, “WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THE DUCT TAPE AND WHY AM I NOT BEING SPOON-FED ORANGE SHERBET?” but most of you are probably smarter than me by a shocking margin.
I’m pretty upset that I still haven’t found a duck OR the proper WordPress Plugin to allow me to see where you guys are physically located (besides inside my computer). I assume, though, that if you’re anything like The Twitter, you’re mostly located in:
B) Kansas City
Ba) My mind.
So, that should narrow it down until I get the plugin hacked and working properly. It also allows me to procure a laptop, make “arrangements,” download every song about ducks and roadtrips I can find as well as find a proper traveling companion. I assume, though, that by now I’ve scared off everyone who might have considered traveling with me.
I wonder if I can program a duck to talk to me.
Also: what Mission should this roadtrip have? Like, do I collect snowglobes or guns or different cheesy shirts from each truck stop I visit or something? Or pictures of amazing, luscious mullets? The Roadtrip needs a name and a purpose.
Also; also: even if you’re not actually coming with, you’re virtually coming with because the computer is a magical box powered by gnomes and a trainwreck is always awesome to watch as it unfolds.