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| ::: ::: Journal entries: ::: ::: Map yourself! ::: :::
Check out: In case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas... Artifact:
Baby, it's cold outside.
| Monday, November 28, 2005 Conversations on the road - a partial transcript of our 39575685-mile journey back home this weekend: "Aaagh. God, I'm sick of driving." "You're not even driving. You're just sitting there. I'm doing all the driving." "Oh! Well then, please accept this Purple Heart on the behalf of the United States people. Thank you, brave soldier." "Shut up." "You shut up." "No, you shut up." "Shut up or you're going to wake the baby." "Shut up or you're going to sound retarded. OH IT IS TOO LATE." "You." "No, you." (pause) "Hey, I just thought of a totally dirty slang term. You know, like 'Dirty Sanchez'." "What is it?" "The Slug Trail El Dorado." "Slug...Dorado? What does it mean?" "A guy takes his [edited for mature content] and [edited] on a [edited]." "Jesus. Where'd you hear that?" "No, I just made it up! Myself!" "Nice. The Slug Trail El Dorado." "I'm going to make a t-shirt." "You do that." (pause) "I just thought of another one." "Shoot." "Ants On a Log." "What does that one mean?" "Well, I don't know yet. I just thought the name sounded gross. You think of the meaning." "Ummm....okay, it's when a guy [edited] his [edited] and there's [edited]." "Ewww! Heh. Ants On a Log." "Ants On a Log." (pause) "The Mayonnaise Latte!" "What?" "The Mayonnaise Latte." "This is getting kind of old." "Guess what the Mayonnaise Latte is?" "What." "It's during a [edited], when the [edited] [edited] out of her [edited]." "Jesus." "I know! Totally gross. Now your turn." "I don't know, I can't think of one. Jeez, you've got a spark for this sort of thing. I've got to say, it's a little disturbing." "Well, I'm bored." "Right." (pause) "Hey, check out that train, it's got-" "THE NESTLE GEARSHIFT." "What?" "Ha ha ha ha ha HAAA! Nestle Gearshift! See, it's when [edited edited edited] and then he gets a [edited]." "Gross." "Nestle Gearshift. Haaaaaaaaaa!" "Seriously, could you stop now?" "Okay that's the last one. Heh. Gearshift." "You have a problem." "I kind of do, now. Everything I see sounds dirty. Puddles On a Highway. Cloudy Overcast Skies. Half-Full Formula Bottle." "Just-" "Tennessee Glory Hole." "Glory -? Ok, that's it. I'm playing Bob Dylan now." "Shit." ("Masters of War" fills the truck.) "Are you going to post this on your journal?" "Well. This and some pictures, maybe." :::
Bandon, Oregon.
...
Mt. Rainier from the highway ...
The Dude, abidin'. |
