Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
Before everything went upside-down, Toney found a good deal on airfare
and bought us tickets to Reno in July. We're being required, via
industrial-strength guilt, to fly out there and visit Sunshine &
Mumbles this summer. Under the circumstances I'm not sure we'll actually
be able to make the trip, but we're still operating with the assumption
it'll happen. Hopefully we'll be back amongst the living by July.
A couple of things, though....
If/when we go, we're staying at a hotel, and this is going to be a HUGE
problem for Sunny. As is quite obvious, she doesn't believe in such
things. She thinks that any city on the globe where a relative lives, is
a city where she has a free place to stay. The idea of renting a hotel
room when there's a perfectly-good floor to curl up on, just doesn't
compute with her. And she'll almost certainly take it as an insult when
we tell her.
But this is non-negotiable, as far as I'm concerned. S&M live in a
tiny apartment with one bathroom, and we'd literally be living on top of
each other. And a person needs a little decompression time at the end of
the day, and their own space to retreat to. Ya know? One of the things
that's hard to take when they come to our house for another of their
marathon visits, is that there's almost literally no down-time. Every
waking moment is taken up with "entertaining."
Also, I'm allergic to cats, and Sunshine has one that's roughly the size
of a miniature collie. The thing has freaky blue eyes, clearly hates me,
and is the spawn of Satan himself. No way I'm sleeping with that
creature prowling around, for a number of reasons. At the top of the
list is the knowledge I'd return to Pennsylvania, not in the passenger
cabin of the airplane, but in the cargo hold -- inside a box.
So, the hotel will be a bone of contention. Plus, Sunshine wants us to
go camping while we're there. With tents. In the Sierra mountains. And
there's nothing about that that sounds appealing. Nothing.
For one thing, you don't fly then camp. Am I wrong about that? The whole
concept seems bizarre to me. And I'm no fan of the idea of sleeping in
the freakin' dirt either, with a pine cone eating into my pancreas. Call
me a radical, but that's not exactly my idea of a good time. What are
we, a bunch of hippies here?? Will we be vacationing at the Spawn Ranch
this summer? Perhaps I should buy one of those big cotton shirts with
shoelaces in it?
I remember an overnight rafting trip I
took years ago, where the "bathroom" was nothing but a wooden
box amongst the trees, with a toilet seat nailed to the top. I got up in
the morning and our guide was sitting atop that ridiculous thing,
reading a magazine. He just gave me a jaunty little wave, and turned the
page.
And I can't have that.
Plus, aren't there, like, saber tooth tigers in those woods out there?
The east coast forests are full of all sorts of scary things, but I
believe it's even worse in the west. Shit gets bigger in those parts.
I'd be lying there terrified and wide awake the entire time, believing
that every sound was a mountain cat circling and waiting to pounce. A
thin layer of fabric might seem like a valid shelter psychologically,
but who are we fooling here?
So, we've got some issues to hammer out before boarding that plane. Why
does everything have to be so difficult? Why can't we just go out there,
have dinner at Claim Jumper a few times, scarf down a dozen or so Jim
Boy's tacos every day, visit the car museum, and return home? Would that
be so horrible? I think not.
-- And that'll just about do it for today, children. My current
unemployment emotion: mild panic. Stay tuned for continued coverage.
I'll leave you now with a realization of my worst fear, straight from my
hometown of Dunbar, WV.
--
Before everything went upside-down, Toney found a good deal on airfare
and bought us tickets to Reno in July. We're being required, via
industrial-strength guilt, to fly out there and visit Sunshine &
Mumbles this summer. Under the circumstances I'm not sure we'll actually
be able to make the trip, but we're still operating with the assumption
it'll happen. Hopefully we'll be back amongst the living by July.