The Gross-Out Chronicles, Con't

Real quick, before we hit the road...

1. No pictures this morning, because we think we might be staying in the hood -- if there is such a thing as a hood in Cheyenne -- and I don't want my Mom to get a gander of the stabbers. Mom, don't worry, we escaped the stabbers and we're getting out alive. Besides, look at the nice place we stayed!

(I'm not kidding about either of those things. We are staying at the Hitching Post, and we are in the hood. There is a hotel down the street called The Sands, but something tells me Ol' Blue Eyes wouldn't cross the street to piss there.)

(And yes, I am determined to make at least one excremental reference every time I post.)

(Apparently.)

2. Turns out you can get pretty good Mexican food in Cheyenne, too. Oh, did I not mention we were on the North American Cheese Tour? Well, we are. This time it cost approximately $18 for the two of us -- and I say "approximately" because I'm subtracting the cost of the beers, but I don't know even generally how much that was.

Oddly, though, this place had the exact same chairs as did the place in Utah. Wethinks there must be some sort of central Mexican restaurant-supply conglomerate shaking them all down. There must be. Because it's not like they were the nicest chairs. Big old smiley sun staring at you from the back of the guy at the next table. Creepy.

3. We've decided to accept y'all's verdict and forgo the Daisy shavers. But I am desperate for a freaking tweeze -- and on this, you do not have a say. The beard is getting out. of. control. And, although I can put up with not being atractive to members of the opposite sex, I flat-out refuse to be mistaken for one.

4. Thank you. Thank you very much. I'll be here all week. Oh wait. No, I won't. Well, tip your waitresses anyway, it's good karma. Besides, if you don't, they just might send the Mexican Syndicate after you. And something tells me you don't want to find yourself on the business end of a smiley-ass sun.

We're hoping to make it to Des Moines today, but we hear there's weather in Nebraska. So we've agreed that, if we have to, we might call it quits in Omaha. If, you know, the decision is Mutual...

Ba-dump-bump!


Oh, I kill me.