What'll You Give Me if I Lick The Dirt?*

1. If I were in high school, and our biggest rivals were from a place called Wendover, I would call them Bendover.

2. Especially if I were from a town called Shafter. And I were a cheerleader. Which I were not.

3. Know what it turns out you can get in Wendover, Utah? For eleven dollars for two grown-up ladies? Pretty decent Mexican food.

4. Know what it turns out you can't get? A BEER! Dang Mexican Mormons. Don't worry, though. By dinnertime tonight we'll be in Wyoming. Something tells me beer won't be too hard to come by over there.

5. We just realized that all of the shaving accoutrements went in the moving truck. Which is taking a different route. Should we a) stop somewhere and buy a disposable Bic, or b) have a who-can-grow-the-longest-pit-braid-before-we-get-home contest?

Sorry, man. The road brings out the Disgusto in Destructo. Oh, speaking of which, PS:

6. I'd just like to point out that the shotgun door handle was broken when I got here -- it broke just before I got here, so it may still be due to my radiating Destructive Superpowers -- but it is technically not my fault that the passenger has to be let in from the inside like we're on a marginally chivalric date.

The cooler, though? Yeah. I broke that.


*You know, to see if it tastes salty.