Travel

So Dearies, I'm sitting at my computer (as always) waiting on an SQL Query to execute (as always).
Still, with my new salary I don't have to worry anymore when I break a ruler (or five), I can just go out and buy a new one!
But, as I stare fuzzily at the thousands of lines of computer code that I'm executing, waiting the hours it will take to prove my genius (once again) to the world, my thoughts will inevitably wander.
I think about your poor Uncle George, that mean old bird making an editorial statement on his blazer!. And him wiping it off with his fingers, the poor little guy.
Or poor Scooter, crying alone in jail without your Uncle Dick to keep him company. Don't worry too much, though, if anyone knows how to shank someone, it's a friend of your Uncle Dick!
No, sometimes it's just too tiring to keep up with your various Uncles as they pillage, plunder and generally behave like boys. I swear it would give me a headache if they all weren't so darned adorable!
But I'm not going to think about that tonight. Instead, I'm going to think about something different: a Hearse.
See Dear Ones, I recently made a trip to the city of my childhood (not much has changed since I'm only 23!).
A small mid-southern city of about 175,000 people, whose name rhymes with "Little Rock, Arkansas", I thought I knew the city very well. A happy place, where neighbors will only occasionally wander over to urinate on your bushes, (but that was usually in retaliation for Darling Roommates nightly "watering" escapades), it is considered by most to be idyllic, depending on whether or not there is a lot of gang activity that week.
And yet, just beneath the gentle façade, there lurked MURDER.
No, no Dearies, stop crying! Auntie didn't mean to scare you! I just had a flashback to that City Confidential series on A & E. They're always doing that!
No, seriously. This city has always been slow paced. I think another word might be "Bland, Boring, Vanilla". Ok, that's three words. But you get the point.
So imagine my surprise when I met someone that drove a Hearse! That's right, one of those cars used to haul caskets around. In the US, that would be considered "odd" or "creepy". And I must tell you, it was scary! I only rode around in it for about 5 or so Hours before I started getting uncomfortable! (maybe it was the lumbar support in the front seat. Or that I needed to pee. I might have to ride around in it another 5 or so hours to be sure!).
Now, this is one of those little societal rules that DOES NOT have a law forbidding it. It's just that, well, nobody does it!
And my beloved ex-home is not THAT big of a town! If you see an unusual car, and the person drives it a fair amount, trust me, you'll keep bumping into it on the streets! (Hopefully not literally. I mean, that could raise insurance rates!).
So, you can imagine that after spending 25 or so of my 23 years on this planet there, I was shocked to find that someone drove a hearse. Then I find out there's not one person with a hearse: there are Three!
I found out because I met a SECOND person who drives a Hearse. To be sure, her hearse needs an eensie paint-job (much like my own beloved Oldsmobile. It's a collector's item, doncha know!). But it is a magnificent vehicle, and it's only about one coat of wax away from shiny black perfection.
So I've decided: I'm going to meet everyone in Little Rock who drives a Hearse (not in the funeral home business). By my count, that leaves just one person. His name is Skullcrusher.
Now first off, let me just say that he is the first person that I have heard of named Skullcrusher. Let me also say that I have never actually met him. Here are all of the facts that I know about Mr. Skullcrusher (no Dearies, he's not Uncle Skullcrusher. At least not yet!).
1. He drives a Hearse.
2. His name is Skullcrusher.
So I think you can safely assume that I haven't invited him to the Ice-Cream Social I was thinking about throwing. (I was going to serve Vanilla. I'm not sure what Mr. Skullcrusher would want. Gothberry Crunch? Or, I shudder to think, the "Devil's Stripe": Neapolitan! Come on, Chocolate, Vanilla and Strawberry in the same Container? That's what they call Miscegenation! And it's unnatural).
So I'm not sure how to meet him, to find out the various answers to the many questions that have arisen about him. Let's face it, the man drives a Hearse, he's probably got some interesting stories to tell. Is he a Republican? Does he go to Sunday School? Is he a Vegan? I have many more questions than answers.
So, I made stuff up. It's ok to do that, sometimes. What follows is my Latte-Love (my soon to be up dating website) profile of Mr. SkullCrusher.

Name: SkullCrusher
Occupation: Florist
Turn Ons: Puppies. Walks on the Beach. Lynne Cheney (wife of US Vice-President Dick Cheney. I LOVE her novels!)
Turn Offs: Country and Western. Any movie where the guy doesn't exhibit sensitivity. Tattoos of Superheroes.
Hobbies: Arranging flowers is my life, not just my job!
Quote: I would never leave the toilet-seat up after I'm done

Wow! Quite a catch! And although he's in a relationship, he was thinking about leaving because she just doesn't like to watch Victorian Romance movies with him! Sensitive AND caring.
On second thought, I might just see if he wants to have a bowl of ice cream. If he'll watch Emma Thompson's version of Pride and Prejudice, I just might even be persuaded to buy Neapolitan for the occasion!

Well Dearies, I had a wonderful time this weekend.
I went to a Rocky-Roll show, which I know you kids just love that kind of music. To be honest with you, it was just an eensie bit loud, and I couldn't really make out the words, but I'm sure that the nice young man on the stage with the fake blood and chainsaw was singing about something nice.
Just one question, and perhaps you kids can answer this for your Auntie, do all Rock shows have chainsaws and fake blood? I've only ever been to two, the one this weekend and one a while ago for some gentleman named Osborne (can't remember his first name). He didn't have a chainsaw, but he did bite the head off a small animal, though I assumed he was just hungry.
That's why I brought some granola bars to this show, because if they got hungry I thought they might want something a little healthier than a bat-head to snack on. Plus they have fiber, and although I hate to do it, the grunting made me think the poor dear was a little (ahem) constipated. Anyway, it was a fantastic time, I think; I don't quite remember all of it. This nice gentlemen named Snake bought me a club-soda, then things got a little hazy. When I woke up the next morning, Snake was whimpering to be unbound. This happens sometimes, dears. Apparently Snake wanted to play some "Grown-Up Games", and thought he would give me something called a Roofie to help lower my inhibitions. Next time he should really check with your Auntie first, because A) I don't have that many inhibitions and B) he should really find out what kind of games I play with Grown-ups. All I know is apparently, thanks to him, I wasn't coherent enough to find out his "Safe-Word", which is not something you kids need to worry about. Snake will remember that next time, though. After all, he has that lengthy hospital stay to think about it.

Whoa!
I hope you both had fun on your Fantastic Voyage!
Haggis stains on your pale-ale scented “jumpers” as you shuffle towards the customs agent, hoping that the single tube of lubricant you brought will be enough to cover the obligatory extra “Customer Service” that you will get when they see that you just disembarked from the Amsterdam flight, hoping that the illegal Spice-World DVD you bought in London won’t land you in the pokey because they don’t notice that your underwear appears to be rectangular. Ahhh, the joys of international travel! Are the Cinnabons still as sweet overseas? Did you miss cheap barbecue and the sound of gunfire in the distance as you wandered through relatively old city after relatively old city, where the muggers call you “Guv’nor” and “Miss”?
Were you about to go crazy at the prospect of being able to use a modestly priced mass transit system? Was it the first time that you realized that the subway smell is particular to New York, that application of soap-and-water technology will yield clean busses and snooty waiters?
Admit it; you pined for us….just a little bit! Sure, you’re kind of on your own, back in the states, but just because they make Glocks over there doesn’t mean that just anybody can have one! I mean, hey! You can’t even get the matte-black personal Taser without a permit, much less the Hot Pink one!
And the food! Bangers and Mash? Come on! What the hell is a "Banger" anyway? Is it delicious, like Sausage in a pancake on a Stick? (I hear you can't get those over there!)
Preachers over there don’t snort meth off a male-hooker’s ass! They have vacations and only work 60 or so hours a week! What the hell would they do with all that free-time? Not watch the tele since they’ve only got like 3 channels and their news isn’t entertaining, it’s informative. I mean seriously…Did the BBC even know who the hell Anna Nicole Smith was? No, they’re too “busy” blah blah blah about like world events and stuff.
The long and the short of it is….. Europe is sane: but they're all BORING.
The US may be a little crazy (ok, a lot crazy), but we're FUN!
C’mon, you KNOW you missed us!
XXOO
The U S of A