At least he didn't punch him...

Ok, I don't normally post links to movies, but I found this one way to funny. It reminds me of the Rodney King beating. I'm not condoning the King beating, but I have watched the tape, and the guy kept getting up while the cops were beating him, all while telling King to "Keep down! Stay down!". Now, if I had seven L.A. police officers around me with billy clubs beating the snot out of me, I'm going to try and obey what they say. But that's just me, I'm a different bread of cat I guess.

Anyway, this video is of a guy stopped by an officer who while talking to the cop, decides he wants to be combative and then gets what he deserves. I wonder why some people are so stupid. Drugs? Alcohol? Inbreading? Click me! It's work safe, so don't worry about watching this on the clock. There is some yellin' so mind your volumn.

In other news, I'm working tonight. Can't kiss Bib because I'm here and she's there and I can't FedEx a kiss, no matter how creative I get. New Year's Eve and no one to smootch other than co-worker Darryl. I hope he brings his Binaca... Hmm. I wonder what Vest-Guy is doing tonight?

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Quick note, have you ever noticed how many gay references I make to myself? I wonder why I do that? Do gay men do the opposite? I wonder if Adam ever says "Yeah, I got a girl pregnant once. I find that Anna Kornikova HOTT! I've got all of The Donna's posters and CD's!" No? Just me? Ok... moving on.

The story of the mirror

Ok, a few years back I had this car accident. I was coming home from work and a truck with a trailer sideswiped me while turning in front of me. Needless to say it was his fault and I walk away with a small amount of award money. It wasn't much, but after all the debts were covered and insurance paid up, I had about $1,200 if memory serves.

I was at my friend Sean's house for the weekend, and his parents drove us up to Tulsa for a day of shopping and dinner. I told his folks that if they would eat at Red Lobster I would buy. I tend to be like my dad sometimes and offer to buy everybody dinner. Of all the weird things to take from my father, that's the one I inhabite most.

We get to the restaurant and it's a tad busy so we get to sit at the bar. The waitress asks us what we want and I tell her I want an Amber Bock. She tells me they don't serve it and would I like something else. I sigh and ask for a White Russian (shut up! I like it.) So we get our drinks, waiting for a table to open up and I looking around the bar, taking in the sights when I see something that catches my eye.

It's an Amber Bock mirror on the wall, advertising that delicious beverage. I wonder aloud to Sean and his folks why they would have the mirror on the wall and not sell the beer. So I stop our waitress when she walks by and ask her. She says she doesn't know. I respond that I would like the mirror for myself. She asks, "You want the mirror?" I tell her yeah, I did and that I would be willing to pay for it. So she tells me to hang on and she will go get her boss.

She comes back quickly with a middle aged Japanese man in a blue tie. He asks us how our day was and what he could help us with. I tell him that I want to buy the mirror. I explain to him that since they don't sell the beer, they don't need the mirror on the wall. He looks at the mirror, and then back at me. "You want mirror? You like mirror? Take Mirror!" I stare at him in open mouth wonder. "Are you serious? I don't have to pay for it?" He shakes his head and helps me take it off the wall. Now keep in mind, we are in a very crowded restaurant and I'm taking decorations off the wall, leaving a huge open piece of sheetrock. People are looking at me and I couldn't be happier. I just got a very cool mirror for nothing but the cost of a question.

I hung that mirror in my apartment when I got home, and it's even spent time on my friend Paul's kitchen wall, and sadly right now it's in the garage at my folk's home. I suppose now that I have my own place again I can put it up with pride and maybe even brush my teeth in front of it. But I mean, honestly, what the heck am I going to do with a beer mirror? In truth, I don't even like beer that much. It has to be ice cold and not skunky at all. I will drink it sometimes, but rarely outside of a restaurant or pub. Sometimes when at Kevin's or Pat's house I'll drink one or two, but I almost never buy it for the home. I consider it a social drink personally, and since I don't do any socializin' at the apartment, I don't see a reason to have it around. Coffee on the other hand...

Diff'rent Strokes to Move the World!

I went out tonight at work to get a bite to eat and like usual I listened to Coast to Coast AM with George Nori while driving around. Tonight's guest was a little different than the usual UFO nuts and the Free-Energy theorists. No sir! None of that non-sense tonight! Tonight's guest was real special. Rodney Cluff was the man of the hour on tonight's show and his big thing was... HOLLOW EARTH!

His theory was that when the Earth formed billions of years ago, it formed hollow, with it's own star inside. That's right, dear readers. According to Mr. Cluff, we have our own heating source deep inside (crust is only 60 miles) our little rock we call home. And not only did it form hollow, but we have a civilization on the inside, with a working society. I didn't hear if they were a Morlock-type of people or if they just liked it really toasty down there. I would imagine a sun that close to your home, with no way to vent it's gases would get a tad warm eventually.

Anyway, I got a hoot out of the guy. He was shooting down every person that called in, whether they were pro or con Hollow Earth, so I knew he was a fun guy to be around. Give his site a look around if you want. Or, if you'd rather do something fun and time consuming, read The Cave and tell me it's not scary. Sure, it's a tad long, but it raised the hair on the back of my neck few times. Good readin'!

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One last thing for today. I was looking around on other sites and ran across this one. It's about a man and his family dealing with his mother's lung cancer. It's a web comic, but done really well for the subject matter. I have to admit, I did get a little misty eyed toward the ending. Must have been some dirt in my eye. Yeah, that's it. Give it a read, it hit a little close to home for myself, but other's may gleen something new from it. www.momscancer.com

Happy Birthday to me Mum!

Today is my mom Nancy's birthday. I will refrain from telling her age on here. Not because it's a high number (it's not) but sometimes a lady (she's one) doesn't want to reveil her age. So I will just say Happy Birthday Mom! and hopefully not get slapped for it. And I hope I'm not to late to wish Erin Rutledge to the XXX group. That's not naughty stuff, those are Roman numerals. Oops! Did I just tell her age? Well, she's young still, maybe she won't kill me. :-D *pleads with Erin not to kill him*

You've all been reading the Perry Bible Fellowship haven't you? What? You haven't? Well then get crackin' people!

James Lileks has a site full of fun stuff, like the Book of Meat! Meat! Meat! and More Fun with Coffee!, a page I'm sure my friends would enjoy. All worksafe, but not easy on the stomach. Seeing a gelatin mold used for meatloaf is a little stomach churning...

For my video gamer friends, a little old school action is alway nice and they can find it here at the Video Game Museum and Classic Gaming websites.

Speaking of games, I wanted to point everyone's attention to the nifty Flash animation of Superpope that my good friend David Rutledge did a few years back. He has said he would make a follow up episode and I'm still waiting on that. Hopefully he will get to comeplete it someday. He's a very talented individual and has a nifty collection of Virtual Boy games to boot...

The Quiz of Jay

Ok, kiddies. Here is something fun for you to do this weekend. Take this test located here! When you're done, post your results so everyone can point and laugh at you later on. Patrick and myself were bored at work tonight, so that's why the silliness of some of the questions. If you are really in a mood for something tougher, you can check this quiz that will make you scream!! Pop-up warning on that one though.

Enjoy!

Oldie but goody

This picture came up as a topic of discussion tonight at work. As much as I would like to lay claim to actually getting dressed up like this and having the photo taken by my friend Sean, my buddy Patrick took one of my A-Kon pics and did a quick Photoshop job on it.

Click Here for Patrick's Picture

However, I would like all future generations to see and cherish this piece of art. Never know when Aunt Jay may join the Boslavek Dance Company.

I miss her still...

This post is inspired in part by JuddHole post and in part because the 13th of December was the anniversary of my mother's death. Bear with me if I get weepy.

On December 13th, 1987, I lost my mom after a three month-long and very painfull battle with cancer. I tell this story not because I want to remember the pain, but because I want to remember her.

I remember the little things, like coming home from my first day of school in 8th grade and her being there at the house with Grape Kool-Ade and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I remember going skiing with her in Colorado. I remember the snake in the house that dad killed while a butcher knife while mom held it down with a garden hoe. I also remember holding her hand, cold and still, while doctors told me that the last thing a person looses when they die is their hearing, so I should tell her I love her. I remember her not moving after I told her. I remember feeling absoluetly nothing when my dad told me later that same day that mom had passed away. I remember lying in bed at my uncle's house, where I was staying at the time, wanting to cry, but couldn't, I was so in shock. And I remember being at the funeral, when Betty Martin bent down to hug me, I just let loose with emotion, finally able to spill tears, and now it's been 17 years to the day and I'm still crying over her.

On Tuesday, Brigette's little girl was sick, so I stayed with her since everybody else had to work. We played, colored Powerpuff Girls, and had lunch. Afterwards, she wanted to hear stories of me and my childhood (she loves to hear stories), especially the one of my mother passing, so I told her the one story I know better than any of the rest. It's a story I think of every year about this time. Christmas will forever be linked to my mother's death. Not being macabre, that's just the way it is. Just like Thanksgiving will always be seen as the holiday that my Grandmother passed away right before. I loved both of those women as much as a child or grandchild can love his family.

I won't go into it here. If you know me, and chances are if you're reading this blog, you've talked to me a few times in your life, then you know the hurt and pain I went through, what my father went through, what my whole family went through. I will go on to say that I'm glad that i got to see her, that I got to tell her I loved her, that I got to hold her hand one last time. One last time before she slipped away from me forever. God found a reason to call her home, and even though I don't know what that reason was, I'm sure it was a good one. They say only the good die young, and at 37, she wasn't to old, so she must have been a pretty good soul.

I had a real good talk with my step mom this morning. Not about this, mind you. Of other things. I needed a mom after mine was taken from me, and I was extreamly lucky to get one that was so awesome. I can honestly say I've got two mothers. If you hear me talk about one of them, and you're confused, just ask. I'll tell you which is which, although both were/are very good with me, and have never been seen with a bad eye from me.

So to Shirley Ann, I wish you happiness up in Heaven, and I hope to see you one day. And to Nancy Jane I wish you joy here on Earth, and I hope to see you up there too. But not anytime soon. You've still got some grandmothering to do... :-)

I would like to remind my readers to tell your family and friends that you love them. Feeling awkward about telling a 210 pound man you love him isn't nearly as bad as seeing that same man in a casket, knowing you could have told him and didn't. I tell my dad that I love him every time I see him, mom too. Also my sisters, my nieces, Brigette and her babies, even Brigette's parents do it to me, it's great... I might even start doing it with my other friends. You are all precious to me, and I love each and every one of you.

This post has enough sugar to give ten people diabetes...

The Squirrel Attack and the Smithsonian's Bathroom

Day 2 of our trip

We get up and around, showers taken, teeth brushed and clothes put on. We head out and start driving south towards Washington D.C. Here's where it get's to the good part, and Brigette will start laughing when reading this. We are making good time and we need to stop and get gas, as well as use the restroom facilities. This is one of those kinds of places where you have to pay in advance, and you can't use credit cards at the pumps. So as Bib goes to pay so I can fill up the tank (she sees a drug deal happen by the way) she sees that there are no restrooms at this pumpstation and will have to use something else.

There is a little seafood place nearby and she opts to go there. When finished doing her busniness, she's walking out the door when a voice shouts, "Excuse me Ma'am!" Brigette turns around, and asks what. "That will be Ten Dollars!" My lady friend is taken aback. "Excuse me?" "You didn't buy anything, and you used my restroom. That will cost you ten dollars." Quickly, she exited the smelly shrimp place and came over to me where I had the van waiting. She told me her story and I thought better of using the restroom myself, so I hold it, thinking we're already in D.C., how long could it be until we find another bathroom?

Pretty long as it turns out...

I drove around that cursed city for an hour and a half needing to use the restroom and unable to find a stinking parking spot. That town has about 20 parking spots and all of them were full. Ok, that's a bit of an stretch. It's more like 15 parking spots... Anyway, I finally luck out and get one I don't have to parallel a Dodge Caravan into and we hope out and head towards the nearest building. Now, understand, we've just gotten parked and are psyched out to see all there is to see in Washington D.C. including the main Smithsonian museam. The closest bathroom, er, I mean national landmark building is the National Art Museam, one of the Smithsonian's 12 sites in D.C. I enter the hallowed building, do my business and then meet up with Brigette with a goofy look on my face. She said that she's never gotten to spend a lot of time in this building as everytime in the past she had, Jamie (her jerk ex if you're not in the know) always rushed through it and never would let her spend time there. I said we have no kids, I love art too, why don't we stay for a while? We've got nothing holding us back. Fate, it seems, had something else planned. We are not there for even 15 minutes when she got a call. It's Jamie, saying he wants her to pack her stuff up that night. She tells him fine and that we'll come back that night. She gives me the news and is stressing a little bit. He couldn't even keep his children for two full days without having to wiggle his way out of it. His own children! He hadn't even seen them for about six months and this jerkwad can't even do it for two days. I should point out that Bib called the kids the previous night, only to have them crying that they wanted her to pick them up that night. What a father, huh? They were crying, but why? I'll get to that in a bit....

Anyway, we do a whirlwind tour of D.C. We start walking from where we are, the next thing is the Washington Monument. It's closed for maintenence so we press on. Next is the World War II monument and it is absolutly awesome. Next we walk along the reflecting pool that is leading up to the Lincoln Memorial, which we finally get to. And it is just amazing to just stand there and witness it. I would have loved to have stayed longer, but we were short on time, we were hungry, I was cold as my dumbass didn't get my coat from my car, and Bib's knees were hurting. So, we pressed onto the Viet Nam memorial. It's a 2 inch thick wall of black marble with all the names of those lost in the war. I would love to take my father there someday, if only to be there when he sees it. It's very emotional, and it's something I would like to experience with my dad.

We pass the last stone in the wall, and not ten feet is a trashcan with a squirrel sitting on the edge. We stop and look at it, then go on. Well, apparently, I'm made of gravy like my friend Sean says, as the little rodent hops out of the trash can and starts following us. Bib leans down and tries to touch it with a flyer she had picked up, and the little guy sniffs it, decides it isn't food and comes over to me. I hold my camera down to it, and want to take a really close picture of it. The squirrel grabs ahold of the camera, I get trigger happy, snap the pic way to close and start to pull my hands away from the scary monster that is obviously going to bite me. His grip is so tight on the camera that I lift him up about a foot before he drops down. Bib and I laugh about this and then start walking away. Well, our little buddy wasn't through with us yet. He runs up to me and jumps on my leg! And I mean, he is tail-level with my knee, so he's way up my leg! Well hell yeah I freak out! I freeze motionless but inside my heart is going a million miles. Since my last photo was the last in the camera, I don't have photographic proof, but it would have been a good one. He thankfully jumps down, and I breathe a sigh of relief, only to have him jump back on my leg, only this time he start climbing up. He gets about half his body length past the hem of my shirt before I start doing that crazy arm flapping/little scared girl whimper I'm so good at doing. He jumps down again and we quickly leave the Viet Nam memorial. I swear, that place is going to forever be in my mind as the place I got accosted by a rodent.

By this point it's getting late and we start heading back to the van. I have to use the restroom again (I know, I know) and I pick the absolutely wrong place to go into for me: The Smithsonian Museam. I have been wanting to go here for about 15 years, and doublely so ever since David and Erin visited a couple of years ago. There was no building in the world that I would have rather gone to, and that includes the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas, than this one right here. I know we don't have much time, as we have to get back to Pennsylvania and get Bib's stuff, and probably the kids too. We go inside, Bib's knees by this point have all but quit working, and we use the facilties. We don't see anything but the huge elephant they have featured when you walk into the main entrance, so that was all I got to see of the Smithsonian. I'm there in D.C. for half a day and that was what I did. I spent a great day, albeit rushed, with my lovely girlfriend whom I love so very much, and got attacked by a squirrel, used the bathroom in the Smithsonian and that was it. It was time to leave town.

Another thing about D.C.: Traffic laws do not apply there, neither does common sense. We spent the better part of an hour and a half trying to get out of town. Granted, this was because I got us lost in the ghetto. Oh, and I do mean ghetto! This was a get out of the car and get shot kind of ghetto. I won't go into detail, as it would probably, ney, require me to cuss like a sailor telling you about my time trying to get back to the highway from the ghetto. I was so frustraited, and ranting and raving, and yet Bib was laughnig so much at my getting mad that it was keeping me from blowing my top right off. Let me just say this; Traffic is crazy there. Super crazy. I mean you have got to be freakin' nutty to understand, to even read, the traffic signs in D.C. It was pure torture. Indeed, I am glad to be back in Oklahoma. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Now, we get back to PA and I rent us a room as we're too tired to drive back that night. Bib goes to get her stuff by herself. I stay behind because I don't want to cause a problem with my being there, and I thought that Jamie would be nice and at least help her load up her van. I was wrong. With her sore knees, she loaded up a van full and I mean full of hers and the kids stuff. Not only that, but having to go down to the basement and get whatever Jamie 'forgot' to bring up. When she comes back, she has the kids and they happy to see us. They tell us later that Jamie had told them both that "momma had forgotten you and that she's never coming back, she's gone for good." This of course caused them to cry hysterically. Now tell me, what kind of dad tells his children something so cruel to make them upset on purpose? I'll tell you. A very mean person. He's done some terrible things, some so heinous that I will not go into them here on this blog. Let's just say he derserves to be locked up forever, then to be sent to hell for all of eternity. Oh yes, dear readers, we're talking B.A.D. bad. Real bad.

On our trip back, we get to laugh about the squirrel, talk about Christmas plans, sing songs and tell stories from our past. Brenden got sick and had taken some Dimetapp and was out like a light, so Mary was sitting up close to us, listening to Momma and I tell her stories about when we were little. She goes to sleep, as does Bib and I drive in silence through the night. I hit St. Louis with the van sleeping, and I see the giant Arch lit up from below. I take a picture with the spare camera we had in the van and keep on driving through. We make good time, switching off driving every few hours and make it home around 0500. We put the kids to bed, and get some sleep ourselves. We are beat, and we just spend the day there in my apartment. We cook some real food for once, not restaurant or fast food and it taste like manna from heaven.

We had a good time, even though the kids had the worst of it. They were cooped up in a van for 19 hours, had to stay with Jerkwad Supreme, then had to spend another 19 hours in a van. I'm sure not the best way to spend a week out of school. As for me? I was not at work. And I was with the woman I love and I enjoyed every minute of it. Except for the squirrel. I most certainly did not like that.

My trip, my burden, my passion, my fajitas

I wrote this on last Wednesday morning, thinking I would have posted it sooner. I didn't get a chance until just now on Saturday night. I'll post a follow up either tomorrow or in a few days. There was a lot that happened so I'll need to fill everybody in.

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Holey Guacamole!

I recently went on a trip to Pennsylvania for a two-part reason. One was to help Brigette get what family heirloms and mementos she still had at her ex-husband's place, and then to also see part of this great nation. So far, I've just seen a lot of road, but I can tell you of my trip so far...

To begin, we left with a van, two children ages 4 and 7, and Bib and myself. This was Monday around 9 O'Clock. By 10:30, the kids were wanting to know if we were there yet, how much longer, how many states we still had to go through, ect. If you've never driven 19 and a half hours with two kids in tow, I tell you it will either make you a patient person or a nervous wreck. Challenging? Yes. Unbearable? Certainly not. Kids are kids and they were bored crazy. I tell you however that if they were to take a sip of Children's Dimetap next trip, I wouldn't argue with the person giving it to them. :-)

Moving on-

The kids were playing quietly in the back, Brigette was trying to get some sleep while I drove, when about 5:45 PM, the van started making this weird sound, like a tire was out of alignment then it started 'buzzing', which was because of one of the tire shaking. I woke Bib up from a dead sleep, pulled off at the nearest offramp and wished we weren't in trouble. Luckily, there was a mechanic shop that had their light's on just across the street from the gas station we pulled into so I drove over to see if we could get some help. Thankfully, the guy was open for business still, saying he closed "just whenever I feel like it" and said he would take a look at the van. He jacked up both sides, gave her a looksee and then we all went on a test drive. When he drove us back, he figured it was a CV joint going out, and that we could drive on it, but he didn't know how much longer it would last. "Could be a couple of miles, could be a few months." But when it went out, we would be stranded he said. Since we were meeting the ex-husband to give him the kids for a few days, we had no choice but to press on. And press on we did. We drove another 12 hour with that tire and entire van shaking. Let me tell you something, you drive 12 hours with a shakey tire, there's just not a whole lot of things that are goinig to bother you after a certain point. Even with the kids yelling and being bored and crying and not sleeping, we kept our cool and made good time. We arrived at our destination around 6:45 CST safe and sound (although a little deaf from the vibration noises).

We drop the kids off, then Bib and I take the van to get fixed. Two hours and $279.18 later, we drive out of the Firestone parking lot with a brand new front passenger side CV joint. The tire-jockey said that when they put the van on the lift, parts like broken ball bearings were falling out of the tire. They said it was the absolute hands-down worst case they has seen that was still drivable. They figured we wouldn't have gone another mile with the way it was. We thanked the appropriate diety and went on our way. We are both exhasted, so after a quick trip through town, we find a little cheap hotel and get some must needed rest. That night, Brigette takes me around, showing me where she had lived, where she worked, the general things people show you when they lived in a certain place for 2 years. I even got to eat at her favorite Mexican restaurant while in the area, El Serrano. With a name that conjured up images of hot peppers, I was thinking I was in for something interresting. I wasn't disappointed in that aspect.

I say Mexican. I did not say Tex-Mex, which if you're like me, actually carries some weight with it. I'm used to Mexican restaurants that serve you a big bowl of chips, salsa that is FREE and on request, will give you salsa that is hot if you so desire it. We order our drinks and when the server comes back she brings us this... this...thimble of chips and two shallow, silver dishes with salsa in them. Now, to their credit, the salsa was flavorful, fresh and they even used cilantro which I adored them for, but it just wasn't anywhere near a heat level which I like. And here is were it gets weird on me. I ask the server if she had something hotter in the back, and if we could have more salsa, since the quarter cup she gave me just wasn't doing the job. She comes back with an identical silver dish with salsa, and a small plastic cup with green paste inside. I'm scratching my head until Brigette figures out that you mix it with the salsa to make a hotter verson of what you like, and since it's "powerfull stuff" you mix however much you want to get the desirerd scolville units. I used up two tiny plastic cups of green paste to make a warm accompiment to my thimble of chips. I know this is just bellyaching and bitching on my part, but by golly, if I want hot salsa, I want it to burn my lips, water my eyes and make me sweat. I don't want a green paste that is going to insult my intelligence by making me play mad scientist with the mixing and the stirring I was having to do. The finished product was something I could file between "Mild" and "Luke Warm"

And here's the kicker, when we order our meals, the server asks us if we would like guacamole with our fajitas. I say sure. She asks, "Both meals?" I sas yes, confident we can put back however much guac they send our way. We both love the stuff (Bib makes some super-duper guacamole by the way, but that's another time and story) so I guess that whatever they give us, we will eat. When our meals come, they arrive with another little plactic cup will with green stuff, only this time the cup is twice as big as the original paste cup, and this stuff if chunky. It's decent guac, but again, it's so ordinary and heatless that it just doesn't do anything for me. Zero character. So we eat, and it's very good. We had a crabmeat (fresh from the sea!) quesidilla and two orders of fajitas, one beef, which was expensive because we're not in cattle country and one chicken. Everything was very good and then we get the check. I notice that our beef fajitas and our chicken fajitas each have a dollar tacked on to them. I calmly ask our server what the charge was for. "Oh! It's for the guacamole. It was extra!" I pay, then I sit there and just start stewing about it. Two dollars for two tiny cups of guac? Come on!! I will say I actually dropped an F-Bomb rather loudly when I was ranting about this. I may have embarrased my dinner companion, but I was mad about this. I was hot. It's not the money, it's about the principle. If you're going to offer me something in a restaurant, you had damn well better tell me it's going to cost me if it's something I'm used to getting for free at other places. And then when I'm looking at the bill, I see they charged me $1.50 for that second shallow silver dish of salsa that turned into a green soupy mix. AAAARRGGGHHH!!! So, leason learned for Jay Haney that day. Don't eat at Mexican restaurants north of a certain line in this country. You may get good food and decent service, but you won't get nearly the level of food quality you will when down south. We've actually got honest-to-God mexicans, they've got Puerto Ricans. They have kid-friendly salsa presented in Martha Stewart fashoin. We've got stuff that will peel the hair off your eyebrows. We also have free salsa. If you come in and order an iced tea and burrito, you're only going to pay for an iced tea and a burrito, but you're going to get a football-helmet sized bowl of complimentary chips and all the salsa you can stomach.

I guess I'm just spoiled by how we do things do in Oklahoma. I'm also very opinionated when it comes to certain things. Thinking back, I'm embarrassed to say that I actually cussed in a restaurant so loud that several people could hear it. I want to extend my apologies to not only Brigette but also that nice couple sitting 15 feet away with the lady that kept looking at me. I'm sorry for ruining your dinner with bad language and general manners. I should know better that when I get over charged by $3.50 that it doesn't mean I should jump into Sam Kinison mode and start spewing vitrol on everything I can. I still have some growing up it seems.

This post is written at 6 in the morning on our third day of the trip. Bib's sleeping soundly and I'm up like normal, listening to the soothing sound of our heating and air unit blowing a tepid breeze on my legs. I wish I had a nice hot cup of coffee right now, then it would just be perfect. I'll try and see if I can find a Wi-Fi access point and post this today. I would like to keep current just in case anybody wants to know what I'm doing north of OK. Did everybody have a good Thanksgiving?