I drove a vehicle for the first time in nearly two years this weekend. Proud to say I was one-handing it within seconds. Within minutes I joined the majority of my fellow Americans in driving with my knees as I attempted to fill my snoot with a Reeses Peanut Buter Cup Blizzard whilst negotiating winding back country roads.
1. America is fat.
2. Most of us shop at Wal*Mart, frequent country festivals trolling for ham soup, home-made french fries, funnel cake and pie. We spend obscene amounts of money on creepy doll-like items made McGuyver-style from raffia, dish towels, buttons and other household goods - all combined to create a terrifying creature that sits atop a kitchen counter next to an artfully arranged basket of plastic fruit.
3. It's contagious. In the span of three days I consumed most of a Dairy Queen ice cream cake, the aforementioned Blizzard, a Whoopee Pie, a pumpkin pie, peanut butter fudge, two Apple Dumpings, home-made french fries, a sausage sandwich and much, much more.
4. TGIF has seen the light and is now offering deep fried string beans and Mac and Cheese. Dominos is seeing their deep fried and raising them free brownies with every pizza order. In case that brownie just isn't enough chocolate for you - the good folks at Dominos HQ are throwing in chocolate dipping sauce. I, for one, am relieved. Like, did they think I was just going to snarf down a plain brownie? Additionally, Dunkin Donuts is still in the game offering SIX free donuts with every purchase of six. Buy six, get six free. Man, I am proud to be an American.
5. Back to the Apple Festival. Country folk shore do love God and America. I ate my home-fries to the accompaniment of a mulleted, chest thumping good ol' country boy singing about the important things.
"Glad y'all made it out here today ladies and gentleman. I want you to know that Jesus is my best friend and brother. I'd like to send this next one out to the troops stationed all around the world. We here in America - we've got a lot to be thankful for!"
Damn right, I thought. Donuts, brownies, fried foods, Dairy Queen and, of course, Wal*Mart. The Mulleted One fiddled with his karaoke machine/amplifier then launched into his next song about Jesus. Some lyrical number, as far as I could tell, based on that slushy 'Footprints' poem that most God fearing folks have framed and hanging on the wall next to the needlepoint that says; God Bless This Home. An old lady with a dried peach of a face and pink rollers still in her hair forked into a mound of various food items and mouthed Isn't he marvelous? to the pink sweatpant clad woman nodding vigorously next to her. Across the way a wizened, old man in overalls happily shelled walnuts, keeping rhythm to The Mulleted One by tapping his dirty work boot on a pile of walnut shells scattered across the grass. On the whole I enjoyed myself immensely and plans are in the works for my retirement there. It's much nicer to hang around happy overweight people who couldn't be sarcastic if they tried as opposed to the cynical, bones and angles breed that roams the streets of New York City looking pissed and hungry.
As we drove back to Sugar Valley - which is the delicious name given to the valley in which Mom-In-Law resides, we passed a bright red barn of a building with the word "Heartbreakers" painted across the side.
"Heartbreakers. What's that?" Brother-In-Law Dave wanted to know.
"Oh. That's a strip club." My sweet Mom-In-Law stage whispered the words strip club.. as if to keep God himself from overhearing.
"A titty bar?" The Surge bellowed.
"Let's go!" I shouted.
"I'd like to get a look at countrified strippers." Dave's better half Kate agreed.
Countrified strippers. Heartbreakers. Just whose hearts are they breaking anyway, I wondered. I imagined ravaged farm women with black hole eyes, thousand mile stares, swinging listlessly around a gummy brass pole, hands rough from yard work, jack-o-lantern smiles.. or no teeth at all... all the better to blow you with Farmer Joe. Unfortunately we were in a bit of a time crunch.. had to get home and eat more pie and such.. and so we didn't get a chance to see if the gals are, in fact, Heartbreakers. Next time, there's always next time.
On the road back to the city today a woman driving a gray Oldsmobile swooped in from nowhere and cut us off, nearly causing us to roll our van.
"GODDAMN MOTHER----!!!" The Surge instantly segued from singing along with the radio into his signature litany of On The Road phrases.
"Pull up next to her so I can give her the bird." Kate said.
"It's okay. I've got this." I said calmly. As we passed the woman I reached down, yanked out my tampon and threw it right at that bitch's windshield. That'll learn her to fuck with white trash like me.