Part 2: A sister appears! Also: BBQ, lots of driving, fluffy strippers and The South generally.
If I remember correctly I left off yesterday with our arrival at South
of the Border, and so we continue from there… One thing I did neglect to mention in the previous part is law
enforcement. Specifically, Virginia is infested with it. Every single
interstate U-turn in the median had a State Trooper sitting in it
along I-95. Every single one. Plus assorted others sitting along the
sides of the road. The one ticket I ever remember my mother getting
was when she traveled to Virginia for my college graduation. Long
story short: watch your ass in Virginia. Anyway, we spent Sunday morning getting up to various shenanigans at
South of the Border and doing a bit of shopping; but as I say, it was
fairly depressing after a while in the sober light of day, so we hit
the road. And let me tell you a little something about South Carolina
and Georgia: they are extremely boring states to drive through. And
also they have basically nothing at any of their exits except
Shoneys’s’s and Waffle(/Awful/ROFL) Houses(1). Which I guess have
their charms but we were in desperate need of expedient and effective
caffeine at various points, which we had trouble locating. Pedro had
many unique attractions, but the coffee in his diner was not what you
might call “properly caffeinated”. Eventually we were able to find
Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, though it was in a dispenser in the back of a
Hess station and required technological finagling via phone and GPS to
locate. So we drove and drove and drove through the land of wind and ghosts
and no coffee (I made this joke before on the twitter but I liked it
so well I used it again). Literally this was like 5 or 6 hours of
absolutely uneventful driving. I think we did crossword puzzles.
Listened to music. Prayed for death. Eventually the per-capita number of bait shops increased to the point
we realized we were in Georgia, and eventually arrived in Macon for
our visit with Ashleigh’s sister Mel(2). Which was fun. I am quite
pleased to say that I am well-liked by all of the family I’ve met so
far (at least so I’m told, they could be lying I guess). And I always
seem to have fun with them(3)… in this instance we arrived at the
end of a long drive through the desolate wastes of the American South
and so were offered drinks. I saw (and drank the contents of) one of
the greatest bottles ever, for a product called Kraken rum (
http://www.krakenrum.com ) with a giant octopus on. We were served
some pretty awesome home-baked bread, some cardamom-honey chickens and
veggies. I will say that a gift for cooking seems to run in this
family… Basically Sunday night was filled with food and beverage and Simpsons
and bits of the Oscars (which I don’t generally care about, but it was
on and it was interesting enough to see how many movies I didn’t see
this year) and wine and et cetera. Plus we met Eddie the cat and the
goldfish, and meeting the animals is always fun. In short, a quite
pleasant family time. It was at this point that I especially hoped
that Ashleigh and my family would get along as well as hers and I
seem to. Permit me also to mention again the extremely tasty dinner. Monday we had more delicious foods for breakfast and went around Macon
to explore the various sights, such as they are. We saw Wesleyan
(where Mel works at corrupting the next generation of young and
impressionable humans), visited the local Indian Mounds (where the
Irish heritage of the ladies was in full display as they were both
sunburned after like a 1.5 mile walk [not that I wasn’t also a bit
scorched myself…]) and wandered around a really cool old southern
gothic-ish cemetary which dates back to like the 18th century or
something. Good times. All of this also while Mel is preparing her academic
thesis and defense for school. So while I’m sure she probably needed
the break to temporarily stave off insanity, it is also quite nice of
her to carve out a break to spend time with us. She was a quite good
host and we had a great visit. Anyway, for lunch we had some completely authentic southern barbecue,
which was a trip. As a person generally accustomed to not eating
particularly much at each sitting, Ashleigh was shocked at having to
choose 3 side dishes on top of her BBQ and cornbread. Truly an epic
amount of food, all of which was tasty and I’m sure terrible for us,
but what visit to GA would be complete without it? I learned here of a
product called Brunswick stew (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brunswick_stew ), which was extremely
dismaying from a nutritional perspective but OMNOMNOM. And we found,
on a wall of signed celebrity photographs, a picture of the Beatles
signed by all four of them. I’m not sure if they’d actually all been
there, but the name of the place was inscribed with the signature so
who knows? Also, John Wayne wrote “thanks for the tasty possum”. Kind
of surreal… Thus fortified by grease and starch and pecan pie, we set off once
more. Georgia continued to be desolate, though we did manage to find a
Starbucks somewhere along the way which kept us reasonably conscious.
We also learned (and verified in Wikipedia!) that Tifton, GA is in
fact the “Reading Capital of the World”. Also it was founded by Henry
Harding Tift from Mystic, CT. These are the sorts of facts which are
vitally interesting when you are driving through a countryside
littered with strip clubs featuring the “fluffy” girls of the south. I
do not know what was implied by the use of the adjective “fluffy” as
applied to a stripper, and I’m not sure I want to know. Needless to
say, the relative lack of State Troopers in Georgia was used to great
advantage in escaping as quickly as possible into Florida. Not that Florida was all that much more exciting, and the lack of
elevation was more pronounced. So flat. So swampy. So full of tolls
(residents pay no state income tax, so they soak tourists for all they
can get). And it’s much longer to drive through than you might expect.
We zoomed down Florida’s turnpike (stopping at the amusingly-named
Okahumpka service plaza) to very little incident and eventually
arrived in Kissimmee to be set upon by my family some time late Monday
night. Which will be chronicled later, possibly along with our Day of
Science, our Day(s) of Mindless Consumerism and Disneyana, and our
Epic Family Dinner. Probably our Epically Terrible Weather Driving
Back will be in Part 4 or beyond. I’m sure you are all quivering with
anticipation… —-
1. Ashleigh had never been into a Waffle House (again, as a northern
girl) and by the end of the week we did finally end up in one. But not
on this part of the trip.
2. Which is one of those nomenclatural problems that sometimes come
up. Like, I can’t say “I visited my sister in Georgia” cause that’s
not right. She’s not really anything to me, officially. So then I’d
have to say something like “Ashleigh’s sister” but that only works for
people who know who Ashleigh is, which doesn’t always follow if I’m
talking at work or whatever. I mean I guess I could just gloss over it
and say “a relative” or something but the pedant in me always balks.
3. Granted, this is in the grand total of like 2 times I’ve spent time
with her family on an extended basis, so this is not a large sample
size, but I think it is still indicative.
of the Border, and so we continue from there… One thing I did neglect to mention in the previous part is law
enforcement. Specifically, Virginia is infested with it. Every single
interstate U-turn in the median had a State Trooper sitting in it
along I-95. Every single one. Plus assorted others sitting along the
sides of the road. The one ticket I ever remember my mother getting
was when she traveled to Virginia for my college graduation. Long
story short: watch your ass in Virginia. Anyway, we spent Sunday morning getting up to various shenanigans at
South of the Border and doing a bit of shopping; but as I say, it was
fairly depressing after a while in the sober light of day, so we hit
the road. And let me tell you a little something about South Carolina
and Georgia: they are extremely boring states to drive through. And
also they have basically nothing at any of their exits except
Shoneys’s’s and Waffle(/Awful/ROFL) Houses(1). Which I guess have
their charms but we were in desperate need of expedient and effective
caffeine at various points, which we had trouble locating. Pedro had
many unique attractions, but the coffee in his diner was not what you
might call “properly caffeinated”. Eventually we were able to find
Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, though it was in a dispenser in the back of a
Hess station and required technological finagling via phone and GPS to
locate. So we drove and drove and drove through the land of wind and ghosts
and no coffee (I made this joke before on the twitter but I liked it
so well I used it again). Literally this was like 5 or 6 hours of
absolutely uneventful driving. I think we did crossword puzzles.
Listened to music. Prayed for death. Eventually the per-capita number of bait shops increased to the point
we realized we were in Georgia, and eventually arrived in Macon for
our visit with Ashleigh’s sister Mel(2). Which was fun. I am quite
pleased to say that I am well-liked by all of the family I’ve met so
far (at least so I’m told, they could be lying I guess). And I always
seem to have fun with them(3)… in this instance we arrived at the
end of a long drive through the desolate wastes of the American South
and so were offered drinks. I saw (and drank the contents of) one of
the greatest bottles ever, for a product called Kraken rum (
http://www.krakenrum.com ) with a giant octopus on. We were served
some pretty awesome home-baked bread, some cardamom-honey chickens and
veggies. I will say that a gift for cooking seems to run in this
family… Basically Sunday night was filled with food and beverage and Simpsons
and bits of the Oscars (which I don’t generally care about, but it was
on and it was interesting enough to see how many movies I didn’t see
this year) and wine and et cetera. Plus we met Eddie the cat and the
goldfish, and meeting the animals is always fun. In short, a quite
pleasant family time. It was at this point that I especially hoped
that Ashleigh and my family would get along as well as hers and I
seem to. Permit me also to mention again the extremely tasty dinner. Monday we had more delicious foods for breakfast and went around Macon
to explore the various sights, such as they are. We saw Wesleyan
(where Mel works at corrupting the next generation of young and
impressionable humans), visited the local Indian Mounds (where the
Irish heritage of the ladies was in full display as they were both
sunburned after like a 1.5 mile walk [not that I wasn’t also a bit
scorched myself…]) and wandered around a really cool old southern
gothic-ish cemetary which dates back to like the 18th century or
something. Good times. All of this also while Mel is preparing her academic
thesis and defense for school. So while I’m sure she probably needed
the break to temporarily stave off insanity, it is also quite nice of
her to carve out a break to spend time with us. She was a quite good
host and we had a great visit. Anyway, for lunch we had some completely authentic southern barbecue,
which was a trip. As a person generally accustomed to not eating
particularly much at each sitting, Ashleigh was shocked at having to
choose 3 side dishes on top of her BBQ and cornbread. Truly an epic
amount of food, all of which was tasty and I’m sure terrible for us,
but what visit to GA would be complete without it? I learned here of a
product called Brunswick stew (
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brunswick_stew ), which was extremely
dismaying from a nutritional perspective but OMNOMNOM. And we found,
on a wall of signed celebrity photographs, a picture of the Beatles
signed by all four of them. I’m not sure if they’d actually all been
there, but the name of the place was inscribed with the signature so
who knows? Also, John Wayne wrote “thanks for the tasty possum”. Kind
of surreal… Thus fortified by grease and starch and pecan pie, we set off once
more. Georgia continued to be desolate, though we did manage to find a
Starbucks somewhere along the way which kept us reasonably conscious.
We also learned (and verified in Wikipedia!) that Tifton, GA is in
fact the “Reading Capital of the World”. Also it was founded by Henry
Harding Tift from Mystic, CT. These are the sorts of facts which are
vitally interesting when you are driving through a countryside
littered with strip clubs featuring the “fluffy” girls of the south. I
do not know what was implied by the use of the adjective “fluffy” as
applied to a stripper, and I’m not sure I want to know. Needless to
say, the relative lack of State Troopers in Georgia was used to great
advantage in escaping as quickly as possible into Florida. Not that Florida was all that much more exciting, and the lack of
elevation was more pronounced. So flat. So swampy. So full of tolls
(residents pay no state income tax, so they soak tourists for all they
can get). And it’s much longer to drive through than you might expect.
We zoomed down Florida’s turnpike (stopping at the amusingly-named
Okahumpka service plaza) to very little incident and eventually
arrived in Kissimmee to be set upon by my family some time late Monday
night. Which will be chronicled later, possibly along with our Day of
Science, our Day(s) of Mindless Consumerism and Disneyana, and our
Epic Family Dinner. Probably our Epically Terrible Weather Driving
Back will be in Part 4 or beyond. I’m sure you are all quivering with
anticipation… —-
1. Ashleigh had never been into a Waffle House (again, as a northern
girl) and by the end of the week we did finally end up in one. But not
on this part of the trip.
2. Which is one of those nomenclatural problems that sometimes come
up. Like, I can’t say “I visited my sister in Georgia” cause that’s
not right. She’s not really anything to me, officially. So then I’d
have to say something like “Ashleigh’s sister” but that only works for
people who know who Ashleigh is, which doesn’t always follow if I’m
talking at work or whatever. I mean I guess I could just gloss over it
and say “a relative” or something but the pedant in me always balks.
3. Granted, this is in the grand total of like 2 times I’ve spent time
with her family on an extended basis, so this is not a large sample
size, but I think it is still indicative.
Geeks on the road!
So I went on vacation last week. The first thing one should know about this is that I haven’t been on
an actual vacation from work in the almost 5 years I’ve been at my
current job. At least not this long of one, maybe a few longer
weekends, possibly there were some trips when I was unemployed, but
actual take-a-week-off-and-go-have-fun? Not so much. And but so, I had mentioned to the luminous Ms. Ashleigh some time ago
that my family lived in Central Florida and so there was a support
system there if she ever felt the need to go on a tropical and/or
Disney vacation. Mainly this was ignored, both for the reason that
somehow she avoided contracting a particularly strong dose of
Disney-itis as a youth, and for the reason that it would necessitate
meeting my family which seemed daunting at the time(1). And other
reasons too, including excessive work and school obligations and so
on. But then one day, somehow, it basically became “What the hell… let’s
do it. Spring Break is coming up.” So I took the week off, contacted
the proper authorities and off we went, much to our own amazement. Some people (granted, those who don’t know us very well) seemed to
think this might be a problem. I can see their point: spending a
vacation with someone is a perfect time to expose all their annoying
quirks, things you never knew you hated about them and so on;
especially when the vacation involves an 18+ hour road trip. This line
of reasoning is true to an extent and probably explains why I never
made it a priority to go on long vacations in the past few years: I
already knew all of these annoying quirks, hated things and etc. about
my potential traveling companion and so just avoided all the misery.
And so, predictions were cast by some that we’d end up hating one
another by the third day or so. I admit that I had some worries along
the same line(2) but these were my own neuroses and failed to come to
fruition (and which, I never seriously expected a problem). So it was
a bit of an experiment on that front, but basically I guessed we’d
have a great time and that’d just cement the fact that we work pretty
well together. And if not, well, better to learn that we can’t be
around each other for long stretches now rather than later. Generally
though, we were super excited… And really we were right to be. I’m not sure there are too many people
in the world who would choose the exact mix of roadside attractions
and kitsch and boozing and Disneyana and SCIENCE that we did and have
a blast doing it. And so: off we drove down from Waterbury, CT to Kissimmee, FL. We took
a more inland route so as to visit Ashleigh’s sister in Macon, GA for
a few days the first weekend and also to hit a few landmarks. We left
around 8am on Saturday… We made sure to stock up on proper coffee
and extremely awesome bagels (mad props as always to Ami’s Crispy
Bagel of Waterbury, highly recommended) before leaving, as one never
knows when one will find these scarce (I don’t think we found any
decent bagels the whole week). Our first stop was to be Hoboken, New
Jersey. It is at this point that I must admit that while I watch fairly little
television these days, what TV I do watch is almost uniformly terrible
by the standards of cultural or artistic quality. If I were the type
of person to get embarrassed by things I might be mortified. Luckily I
don’t care, I just hypocritically make others feel bad about their
poor choices in popular entertainment while I’ve got Glee on in the
background. Anyway, one thing I’ve taken to enjoying due to a certain
law student is the show “Cake Boss”, a reality-ish show about some
italian guy who runs his family’s bakery in NJ and makes really
cool-looking cakes (and also drama). So we visited the shop. As it turns out, for some inexplicable reason, the city of Hoboken was
doing St Patrick’s day a full 10 days before the actual date, and
having a parade the very day we just wanted to stop by, see a TV
landmark, and gorge ourselves on pastries. Luckily it didn’t seem to
mess up the traffic too much and the only net result was a bunch of
carts on the sidewalks hawking green plastic crap and balloons and
such. So that was kind of cool. We did see one person from TV but not
the eponymous boss. And we acquired extremely excellent handmade
cannolis. We drove on at that point to Philadelphia, where there was something I
had never heard of. Ashleigh is, however, nothing if not a connoisseur
of interesting things to do on the road, and she knew about it. It was
in fact the Board Game Art Park (
http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/22535 ), which is exactly as it
sounds. A collection of things like giant dominoes and Monopoly game
pieces and whatnot. It was pretty awesome, but the parking in
Philadelphia’s downtown was HORRENDOUS and not recommended. Ultimately
we decided to pretend we were members of the city council and parked
in reserve parking, as we were only planning to be there a little
while anyway. Luckily we were neither arrested nor ticketed and we got
some cool pictures(3). After a bunch of traffic and some uneventful driving, we stopped for
dinner around Richmond, Virginia at a little brewpub-type place near
VCU (the Commercial Taphouse & Grill, on the off chance anyone is
familiar with the area. I’d recommend it). This was Ashleigh’s first
experience with hushpuppies (the poor little yankee thing) and she was
suitably amazed. We were thus fortified with beer and fried food for
the next portion of our journey. And so after a completely uneventful drive through North Carolina, we
came upon a shining vision in the night: South of the Border. If you
do not know about SOB your life has not been complete. This is
probably the mecca of kitsch and neon and racial stereotyping. By
night, it is amazing. A giant neon sombrero tower rises up over I-95
as you cross from North Carolina into South Carolina (the “Border” of
the name). And it is just a massive collection of neon-festooned
shops, fireworks warehouses, animal statuaries, and Pedros of all
shapes and sizes. Pedro is the mascot, a sombrero-ed Mexican in
various states of stereotype (the older representations are kind of
shocking and it hasn’t gotten all that much better in the intervening
years. All in good fun, but still…) By day it is a little
depressing, the neon really pushes it over from “tacky and sad” to
“tacky and amazing and a distillation of everything which is
simultaneously awesome and also awesomely bad about America”. I think
coming upon it after a long day of driving helps. After something like
20 hours of driving, addled by exhaustion, it is like arriving at some
holy place. Some holy, tacky, wonderful place. By the sober light of
morning, after resting and without the lights, you kind of feel dirty.
But at the time we arrived, we were so in awe that we had to walk
around and gawk, despite it being like midnight and kind of cold and
windy. I had stopped here many times as a kid, nearly every year we
made some road trip north, and so it has a combination of “nice family
memory” along with “everything is awesome when you’re a kid” and I
mean it’s a cool place if you don’t think too hard. I was really quite
happy to be there with someone who appreciated it in a similar way. And so we stayed at S.O.B. for the night (in a kind of scary hotel
room, but not terrifying) and shopped and ate greasy food and took
pictures. This too was a culinary first for a lifelong Connecticut
resident: grits. They were enjoyed, though after sitting around for a
while all the grease and fat and tasty butters started congealing. I
noted that this far south of the Mason-Dixon line, one can’t be picky
about one’s food congealing, or else one will never eat anything.
Because Eris bless the South and their cooking. So we took about as
much South of the Border as we could handle and got the fuck out of
there. Pretty much this ended the “weird side trips” portion of our
journey, so I’ll write more later to describe the more mundane events
that followed (though the Disney bit is as surreal as that place
always is) Part 2 to come… —-
1. I understand, generally, the anxiety about meeting a significant
other’s family. Personally, I was terrified to do so (it didn’t help
that her dad is a judge…). My mom is pretty laid-back though, so I
did try to assuage the concerns. But then, there’s Joni, so I tried to
warn her as well…
2. Mainly this is due to the fact that I just generally assume that
everything good in my life is temporary and will someday come crashing
down around me.
3. At least, Ashleigh did. My pictures are all in my camera awaiting
processing on my computer at home.
an actual vacation from work in the almost 5 years I’ve been at my
current job. At least not this long of one, maybe a few longer
weekends, possibly there were some trips when I was unemployed, but
actual take-a-week-off-and-go-have-fun? Not so much. And but so, I had mentioned to the luminous Ms. Ashleigh some time ago
that my family lived in Central Florida and so there was a support
system there if she ever felt the need to go on a tropical and/or
Disney vacation. Mainly this was ignored, both for the reason that
somehow she avoided contracting a particularly strong dose of
Disney-itis as a youth, and for the reason that it would necessitate
meeting my family which seemed daunting at the time(1). And other
reasons too, including excessive work and school obligations and so
on. But then one day, somehow, it basically became “What the hell… let’s
do it. Spring Break is coming up.” So I took the week off, contacted
the proper authorities and off we went, much to our own amazement. Some people (granted, those who don’t know us very well) seemed to
think this might be a problem. I can see their point: spending a
vacation with someone is a perfect time to expose all their annoying
quirks, things you never knew you hated about them and so on;
especially when the vacation involves an 18+ hour road trip. This line
of reasoning is true to an extent and probably explains why I never
made it a priority to go on long vacations in the past few years: I
already knew all of these annoying quirks, hated things and etc. about
my potential traveling companion and so just avoided all the misery.
And so, predictions were cast by some that we’d end up hating one
another by the third day or so. I admit that I had some worries along
the same line(2) but these were my own neuroses and failed to come to
fruition (and which, I never seriously expected a problem). So it was
a bit of an experiment on that front, but basically I guessed we’d
have a great time and that’d just cement the fact that we work pretty
well together. And if not, well, better to learn that we can’t be
around each other for long stretches now rather than later. Generally
though, we were super excited… And really we were right to be. I’m not sure there are too many people
in the world who would choose the exact mix of roadside attractions
and kitsch and boozing and Disneyana and SCIENCE that we did and have
a blast doing it. And so: off we drove down from Waterbury, CT to Kissimmee, FL. We took
a more inland route so as to visit Ashleigh’s sister in Macon, GA for
a few days the first weekend and also to hit a few landmarks. We left
around 8am on Saturday… We made sure to stock up on proper coffee
and extremely awesome bagels (mad props as always to Ami’s Crispy
Bagel of Waterbury, highly recommended) before leaving, as one never
knows when one will find these scarce (I don’t think we found any
decent bagels the whole week). Our first stop was to be Hoboken, New
Jersey. It is at this point that I must admit that while I watch fairly little
television these days, what TV I do watch is almost uniformly terrible
by the standards of cultural or artistic quality. If I were the type
of person to get embarrassed by things I might be mortified. Luckily I
don’t care, I just hypocritically make others feel bad about their
poor choices in popular entertainment while I’ve got Glee on in the
background. Anyway, one thing I’ve taken to enjoying due to a certain
law student is the show “Cake Boss”, a reality-ish show about some
italian guy who runs his family’s bakery in NJ and makes really
cool-looking cakes (and also drama). So we visited the shop. As it turns out, for some inexplicable reason, the city of Hoboken was
doing St Patrick’s day a full 10 days before the actual date, and
having a parade the very day we just wanted to stop by, see a TV
landmark, and gorge ourselves on pastries. Luckily it didn’t seem to
mess up the traffic too much and the only net result was a bunch of
carts on the sidewalks hawking green plastic crap and balloons and
such. So that was kind of cool. We did see one person from TV but not
the eponymous boss. And we acquired extremely excellent handmade
cannolis. We drove on at that point to Philadelphia, where there was something I
had never heard of. Ashleigh is, however, nothing if not a connoisseur
of interesting things to do on the road, and she knew about it. It was
in fact the Board Game Art Park (
http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/22535 ), which is exactly as it
sounds. A collection of things like giant dominoes and Monopoly game
pieces and whatnot. It was pretty awesome, but the parking in
Philadelphia’s downtown was HORRENDOUS and not recommended. Ultimately
we decided to pretend we were members of the city council and parked
in reserve parking, as we were only planning to be there a little
while anyway. Luckily we were neither arrested nor ticketed and we got
some cool pictures(3). After a bunch of traffic and some uneventful driving, we stopped for
dinner around Richmond, Virginia at a little brewpub-type place near
VCU (the Commercial Taphouse & Grill, on the off chance anyone is
familiar with the area. I’d recommend it). This was Ashleigh’s first
experience with hushpuppies (the poor little yankee thing) and she was
suitably amazed. We were thus fortified with beer and fried food for
the next portion of our journey. And so after a completely uneventful drive through North Carolina, we
came upon a shining vision in the night: South of the Border. If you
do not know about SOB your life has not been complete. This is
probably the mecca of kitsch and neon and racial stereotyping. By
night, it is amazing. A giant neon sombrero tower rises up over I-95
as you cross from North Carolina into South Carolina (the “Border” of
the name). And it is just a massive collection of neon-festooned
shops, fireworks warehouses, animal statuaries, and Pedros of all
shapes and sizes. Pedro is the mascot, a sombrero-ed Mexican in
various states of stereotype (the older representations are kind of
shocking and it hasn’t gotten all that much better in the intervening
years. All in good fun, but still…) By day it is a little
depressing, the neon really pushes it over from “tacky and sad” to
“tacky and amazing and a distillation of everything which is
simultaneously awesome and also awesomely bad about America”. I think
coming upon it after a long day of driving helps. After something like
20 hours of driving, addled by exhaustion, it is like arriving at some
holy place. Some holy, tacky, wonderful place. By the sober light of
morning, after resting and without the lights, you kind of feel dirty.
But at the time we arrived, we were so in awe that we had to walk
around and gawk, despite it being like midnight and kind of cold and
windy. I had stopped here many times as a kid, nearly every year we
made some road trip north, and so it has a combination of “nice family
memory” along with “everything is awesome when you’re a kid” and I
mean it’s a cool place if you don’t think too hard. I was really quite
happy to be there with someone who appreciated it in a similar way. And so we stayed at S.O.B. for the night (in a kind of scary hotel
room, but not terrifying) and shopped and ate greasy food and took
pictures. This too was a culinary first for a lifelong Connecticut
resident: grits. They were enjoyed, though after sitting around for a
while all the grease and fat and tasty butters started congealing. I
noted that this far south of the Mason-Dixon line, one can’t be picky
about one’s food congealing, or else one will never eat anything.
Because Eris bless the South and their cooking. So we took about as
much South of the Border as we could handle and got the fuck out of
there. Pretty much this ended the “weird side trips” portion of our
journey, so I’ll write more later to describe the more mundane events
that followed (though the Disney bit is as surreal as that place
always is) Part 2 to come… —-
1. I understand, generally, the anxiety about meeting a significant
other’s family. Personally, I was terrified to do so (it didn’t help
that her dad is a judge…). My mom is pretty laid-back though, so I
did try to assuage the concerns. But then, there’s Joni, so I tried to
warn her as well…
2. Mainly this is due to the fact that I just generally assume that
everything good in my life is temporary and will someday come crashing
down around me.
3. At least, Ashleigh did. My pictures are all in my camera awaiting
processing on my computer at home.
A wild armadillo appears! (at Kennedy Space Center, and we even touched it):
Posted March 9, 2010 at 6:48pm
Photo: Nice parking job, asshat
And this right outside the DMV building, across the street from the
main Troy police station, and a block or two away from the County
Courthouse…
Done for no particular reason this weekend. Just sad I have to look “normal” for work tomorrow…
Posted February 28, 2010 at 7:16pm
Behold! The Holy Day of Chaoflux is upon us, you primitive screwheads!
And so, as yesterday I ranted profanely and insultingly about someone
else’s sacred rites, today I will give credence to a fake holiday made
up by hippies and followed by lunatics from the internet. We call this “Fair and Balanced” where I come from. And if you’ve read
my previous Discordian essay
(http://misterdiskord.posterous.com/whats-a-discordian-anyway) you
might know that taking turns of mocking religious celebration and
embracing it is perfectly in character. Anyway to me, made-up holydays are much more interesting than
established ones anyway, because they allow for further introspection.
In a religion which is set out as half-joke, and which has no dogma
and anyway instructs its adherents to never pay attention to anything
they read, there isn’t anything written about what Chaoflux really is,
or what one has to do with it. And but so, I’m going to try anyway. Feel free to disregard me. I’m
only your Pope. First things first: the Discordian calendar, which no one who is sane
actually follows, consists not of months, but of 5 (always five, the
Law of Fives is never wrong) seasons of 73 days each: Chaos, Discord,
Confusion, Bureaucracy and Aftermath. On the 50th day of each season
is a holiday commemorating that season, and getting in the mind of
transition to the next one. These follow the general gist of things;
the universe itself, most human endeavours, basically everything that
exists goes through these cycles. And so we have Chaoflux, Discoflux,
Confuflux, Bureflux and Afflux. (1) Carrying on. Chaos is the primal chaos that exists at the beginning.
You could call this the Whatever Before the Big Bang, or a human
swimming around the womb, or that lazy period where you get a crazy
idea to start some big project, or whatever. Chaos has the very fine
property that everything is immanent and imminent; anything could
happen. All and nothing exist in equal measures. But at the same time
nothing happens. Order and disorder in perfect balance. It’s a fine
state if you can get it, though I have to think that typically it’s
not so easy in the real world. And it’s only ideal in a sort of
Platonic or idealistic sense. You wouldn’t want your life in a state
of Chaos, because nothing much can happen. If you’re of a buddhist
bent, I see it as kind of Nirvana, or some Christians conception of
heaven: probably something you’d strive for, but if you think too much
of it, it seems kind of boring and useless. But when you’re in it,
it’s totally not, because it it EVERYTHING all at once. It’s like the old question, why do we have time? So everything doesn’t
happen all at once. And so eventually of this Primal Chaos gives way to some semblance of
order. Reality imposes itself on stochastic bliss. Eventually we must
be born. The chaos of childhood must give way to the various rules and
regulations of being an adult in a society. Our crazy idea to get the
band back together and take over the world as rockstars has to give in
to practicing our instruments and working in seedy clubs for 10 bucks
after working a day job all day. And so on. This is not a bad thing
nor a good thing, but just a thing. Certainly less Chaos brings some
things into sharper focus. But a lot of the EVERYTHING goes into less
focus. Something called the Aneristic Illusion tells us that Order is always
good and disorder is always bad. This philosophy would tell us that
moving away from Chaos is always a good thing, an advancement, but
it’s not. Remember when you were a child and you thought you could do
anything. There is value in that. Even if you will never, in “reality”
ride a unicorn through space, if you really believe you can as a
child, that’s almost as good. And so when that dies it is a loss. So
in a way Chaoflux as a transition from Chaos to Discord is somewhat of
a sad time, a time for reflection on lost possibilities. But of course the Eristic Illusion tells us the opposite: that
disorder is always better than order. And of course, as people living
in Westernized America this is easier for us to debunk. We know the
value of ordering things. We know that as adults we can do more and
get more done, and even have better delusions than children. An adult
on acid will probably have at least as good a unicorn spaceflight (if
not better) than a child. And so: go forth today and commemorate the Primal Chaos from whence we
have come. Do something random. Be an idiot. And contemplate on the
transition to Discord, on giving up some of your infinite
possibilities to immanentize those most important to you. And remember
always that we’ll be back through here again, everything is cyclical,
so don’t make like a big fucking deal out of it or anything. There’s
always next year if you fuck it up. And as always, All Hail Discordia. But not too loudly, cause you don’t
want Her to notice you and start paying attention to your life… —-
1. The fifth (fnord) day of each season is an Apostle’s holy day, and
you are encouraged to make up your own additional holydays as you see
fit (or don’t, what the fuck do I care?)
else’s sacred rites, today I will give credence to a fake holiday made
up by hippies and followed by lunatics from the internet. We call this “Fair and Balanced” where I come from. And if you’ve read
my previous Discordian essay
(http://misterdiskord.posterous.com/whats-a-discordian-anyway) you
might know that taking turns of mocking religious celebration and
embracing it is perfectly in character. Anyway to me, made-up holydays are much more interesting than
established ones anyway, because they allow for further introspection.
In a religion which is set out as half-joke, and which has no dogma
and anyway instructs its adherents to never pay attention to anything
they read, there isn’t anything written about what Chaoflux really is,
or what one has to do with it. And but so, I’m going to try anyway. Feel free to disregard me. I’m
only your Pope. First things first: the Discordian calendar, which no one who is sane
actually follows, consists not of months, but of 5 (always five, the
Law of Fives is never wrong) seasons of 73 days each: Chaos, Discord,
Confusion, Bureaucracy and Aftermath. On the 50th day of each season
is a holiday commemorating that season, and getting in the mind of
transition to the next one. These follow the general gist of things;
the universe itself, most human endeavours, basically everything that
exists goes through these cycles. And so we have Chaoflux, Discoflux,
Confuflux, Bureflux and Afflux. (1) Carrying on. Chaos is the primal chaos that exists at the beginning.
You could call this the Whatever Before the Big Bang, or a human
swimming around the womb, or that lazy period where you get a crazy
idea to start some big project, or whatever. Chaos has the very fine
property that everything is immanent and imminent; anything could
happen. All and nothing exist in equal measures. But at the same time
nothing happens. Order and disorder in perfect balance. It’s a fine
state if you can get it, though I have to think that typically it’s
not so easy in the real world. And it’s only ideal in a sort of
Platonic or idealistic sense. You wouldn’t want your life in a state
of Chaos, because nothing much can happen. If you’re of a buddhist
bent, I see it as kind of Nirvana, or some Christians conception of
heaven: probably something you’d strive for, but if you think too much
of it, it seems kind of boring and useless. But when you’re in it,
it’s totally not, because it it EVERYTHING all at once. It’s like the old question, why do we have time? So everything doesn’t
happen all at once. And so eventually of this Primal Chaos gives way to some semblance of
order. Reality imposes itself on stochastic bliss. Eventually we must
be born. The chaos of childhood must give way to the various rules and
regulations of being an adult in a society. Our crazy idea to get the
band back together and take over the world as rockstars has to give in
to practicing our instruments and working in seedy clubs for 10 bucks
after working a day job all day. And so on. This is not a bad thing
nor a good thing, but just a thing. Certainly less Chaos brings some
things into sharper focus. But a lot of the EVERYTHING goes into less
focus. Something called the Aneristic Illusion tells us that Order is always
good and disorder is always bad. This philosophy would tell us that
moving away from Chaos is always a good thing, an advancement, but
it’s not. Remember when you were a child and you thought you could do
anything. There is value in that. Even if you will never, in “reality”
ride a unicorn through space, if you really believe you can as a
child, that’s almost as good. And so when that dies it is a loss. So
in a way Chaoflux as a transition from Chaos to Discord is somewhat of
a sad time, a time for reflection on lost possibilities. But of course the Eristic Illusion tells us the opposite: that
disorder is always better than order. And of course, as people living
in Westernized America this is easier for us to debunk. We know the
value of ordering things. We know that as adults we can do more and
get more done, and even have better delusions than children. An adult
on acid will probably have at least as good a unicorn spaceflight (if
not better) than a child. And so: go forth today and commemorate the Primal Chaos from whence we
have come. Do something random. Be an idiot. And contemplate on the
transition to Discord, on giving up some of your infinite
possibilities to immanentize those most important to you. And remember
always that we’ll be back through here again, everything is cyclical,
so don’t make like a big fucking deal out of it or anything. There’s
always next year if you fuck it up. And as always, All Hail Discordia. But not too loudly, cause you don’t
want Her to notice you and start paying attention to your life… —-
1. The fifth (fnord) day of each season is an Apostle’s holy day, and
you are encouraged to make up your own additional holydays as you see
fit (or don’t, what the fuck do I care?)
Lent: a rant
So, it’s Lent. The idea being you’re supposed to give something up for
40 days, because god gives a shit whether you eat chocolate or not.
Because let me tell you, god is all up in your grill about what you’re
supposed to eat. Especially in the OT. Dude was hardcore on shellfish. I guess you don’t have to do an eating-related Lent, but you know,
we’re all Americans and if there’s one thing we do to nearly-sinful
excess, it’s eat. Some people also give up like, smoking or drinking
coffee, or booze or something like that. And it’s all pretty ridiculous. I mean theologically, even. Don’t take
my word for it, I’m an atheist or a discordian or at BEST a Jew. But
listen — if you can appease the cosmic flying beard in the sky by not
stuffing your fat face for 40 days, seriously, this is not a very
difficult religion to abide with. Try 613 mitzvot on for size some
time, OK? It’s not that I’m necessarily against self-improvement. I just find it
tedious that people have to turn to the threat of eternal torture, or
the reward of eternal pleasure, to fucking do something positive in
their lives. And I say this as a person who, for a tremendously long
period of time had no motivation to positively change my life. So
yeah, hypocrisy. Totally. But it’s like, if it takes the Bearded
Genocide Dude in Heaven to make you stop eating Micky D’s 4 times a
week, maybe you just want to consider visiting him that much sooner,
cause that shit ain’t gonna stick as a life habit. So listen… believe in god if you want to. I might argue with you for
fun, but I know I’m not going to change your mind. But if you think
that Lent is anything but one more way for the various churches in the
world to get you to become a little healthier, and have a little more
money to throw in the kitty on Sunday, you’re fooling yourself. It’s
all bread and circuses. Unless you gave up bread and circuses for
Lent. In which case it’s um… lentils and televangelism? I don’t
fuckin’ know.
40 days, because god gives a shit whether you eat chocolate or not.
Because let me tell you, god is all up in your grill about what you’re
supposed to eat. Especially in the OT. Dude was hardcore on shellfish. I guess you don’t have to do an eating-related Lent, but you know,
we’re all Americans and if there’s one thing we do to nearly-sinful
excess, it’s eat. Some people also give up like, smoking or drinking
coffee, or booze or something like that. And it’s all pretty ridiculous. I mean theologically, even. Don’t take
my word for it, I’m an atheist or a discordian or at BEST a Jew. But
listen — if you can appease the cosmic flying beard in the sky by not
stuffing your fat face for 40 days, seriously, this is not a very
difficult religion to abide with. Try 613 mitzvot on for size some
time, OK? It’s not that I’m necessarily against self-improvement. I just find it
tedious that people have to turn to the threat of eternal torture, or
the reward of eternal pleasure, to fucking do something positive in
their lives. And I say this as a person who, for a tremendously long
period of time had no motivation to positively change my life. So
yeah, hypocrisy. Totally. But it’s like, if it takes the Bearded
Genocide Dude in Heaven to make you stop eating Micky D’s 4 times a
week, maybe you just want to consider visiting him that much sooner,
cause that shit ain’t gonna stick as a life habit. So listen… believe in god if you want to. I might argue with you for
fun, but I know I’m not going to change your mind. But if you think
that Lent is anything but one more way for the various churches in the
world to get you to become a little healthier, and have a little more
money to throw in the kitty on Sunday, you’re fooling yourself. It’s
all bread and circuses. Unless you gave up bread and circuses for
Lent. In which case it’s um… lentils and televangelism? I don’t
fuckin’ know.
More numerological inanity
And so my vehicle reached another insignificant but
numerically-interesting milestone. And documented it, because I’m just
wired incorrectly.
