Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I drive up and down I-75 everyday... through construction, around orange barrels, past "Terminator Jesus" (the artist formerly known as "Big Butter Jesus"), through construction, more construction, along side concrete dividers, through construction zones, past cows, avoiding broken down minivans, through more construction, breaking by Sheriffs, avoiding State Highway Patrols, fuck... more construction, honking at roadside-sheriff monitored-county inmate work crews, and through more fucking construction... are we seeing a pattern here?
At what point are we going to just chalk it all up and become agoraphobics or lose it and start road raging west-coast style with a .38?
I just recently returned from a trip farther south than I'm used to... Why is it, when you cross into Tennessee, Georgia and Florida, you can't drive 15 miles without being assaulted with a billboard advertising a "truck-stop" with strippers and a "spa-style massage"? Who are they kidding? The billboards should just say, "Nasty lot-lizards, sweaty trucker sex, and missing teeth, Right at Exit 98"...
And when did Georgia become the armpit of America? Besides the fact that it's the longest, most boring stretch of interstate, if you do have to stop for gas or food, be prepared to have your IQ sucked from your brain via osmosis by whatever inbred sap attempts to turn on your pump and sell you Peaches or Pecans. I'm not even going to get into the fact that the only dinner option for hundreds of miles centers around "Denny's" or "Waffle House" with the occasional "Huddle House" for good measure.
I hate Interstate 75.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Two friends, a blonde and a redhead, are walking down the street and pass a flower shop where the redhead happens to see her boyfriend buying flowers. She sighs and says, "Oh, crap, my boyfriend is buying me flowers again." The blonde looks quizzically at her and says," You don't like getting flowers?" The redhead says, "I love getting flowers, but he always has expectations after giving me flowers, and I just don't feel like spending the next three days on my back with my legs in the air." The blonde says, "Don't you have a vase?"