Welcome to LA, fat ass.

Day 6
States I Ass-Kicked Today: AZ
Current Location: Los Angeles, CA
Hours of Sleep Last Night: 4.5

So, amazingly, I made it to our new apartment in one piece and without any of the following: car problems, accidents, speeding tickets, diseases, ligature marks, clean clothes or interesting stories.

Here's a summary of my trek:
3200 - approximate no. of miles driven
51 - approximate no. of hours on the road
3 - approximate no. of hours spent actually moving over the last 6 days
15 - approximate no. of lbs of junk/fast food consumed
11 - approximate no. of lbs gained
3 - approximate no. of times Chris said "You're not that fat" when I got here
16 - approximate no. of cookies Chris baked for me
12 - approximate no. he ate before I got home
65 - approximate no. of times I heard Kid Rock's new song on the radio
2200 - approximate no. of times I heard "God" said on the radio
3 - approximate no. of hours spent talking to myself
26 - approximate no. of times Chris told me "something cute" the dog had done while we spoke on the phone
14 - times word "approximate" has appeared in this blog so far

Okay, day 6. I got up early to hit the Flagstaff Holiday Inn Express free breakfast to find... bedlam. A huge mob fighting for baked goods and juice. It was complete and total anarchy. Men had their ties around their heads, tourists had jelly smeared on their faces like war paint. I saw a 6-year old on a table brandishing a plastic knife and threatening to slice the throats of anyone who attempted to touch her Fruit Loops. I saw a soccer mom light a carton of orange juice on fire and throw it into the crowd, Molotov cocktail-style. I saw an old woman scream a battle cry and dive into a dog-pile for half a muffin. She didn't make it. I just wanted a piece of fruit. Sweet Jesus, just a piece of fruit. The things I did. The horror.

Back on the road I drove really far out of my way to see the Grand Canyon. And apparently I am soulless and evil, because I got bored after staring at it for 10 minutes, got back in my car and left. I have gotten nothing but shit about this. People are downright offended. Chris is horrified. "How can you not be impressed by the Grand fucking Canyon?!?!" I was impressed. I just didn't know what to do after I had done my staring. Should I compose a poem regarding it's vastness? Should I throw myself into it as a sacrifice to it's splendor? Should I talk to the myriad of Asian tourists milling about about how great our country is because, well, look at the size of our hole!




What's fun is when you get in your car and see a sign that reads "Los Angeles - 466 miles".

For a while I cut over and drove historic Route 66 - beautiful, with antique cars going by and little old-school towns dotted with soda shoppes and general stores and... Exxons. I bought a root beer and turned on the oldies station and drove. Awesome, until I realized I don't really like root beer and was getting a bruised butt.


Finally I arrived home, exhausted. After two days of seeing no one on the road, it's a bit jarring to be in a city again. It's a bit sad, because as much as I bitch, I actually really enjoyed the trip. That and I'm lazy and not looking forward to having to do work again.


Favorite pictures:

Woman at Graceland.

"Participated in drug experimentation" - from the old people at the Route 66 museum.

Apparently PBR was once used for gonorrhea.

Wow, if you're an insomniac or so hepped up on speed that your heart my burst if you don't calm down, read this blog. Bo-ring. Better stop before it gets worse.

Well, end of transmission I guess. Thanks for reading. Sorry if you did.

It's symbolic, jerk.