Okay, so last night, we hit Wrigley at the Houndstooth (aka THE TOOTH) for a drink, but Efsharp and I decided to kick it back at the crib after only a short venture out, if only for the purpose of getting some much-needed and well-earned zzz’s so as to motor through several states en route to Alberta today. Also I needed to download some kind of meditation music to drown out the new Blackout CD which is stuck in the CD rotation and can only be played at 200 decibels and I’m kind of all MEH about.
My highlights of the evening were a girl totally bitching me out in the restroom of the Houndstooth (which PS does not know the meaning of the words crowd capacity nor excuse me – they do, however understand BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY though) because I claimed to have invented sequins as a joke. Like she seriously was like, “UM, you actually DIDN’T invent sequins” with some serious evils on (that’s cut-eye for those of you at home who don’t speak awesome). Considering updating my list of possible pseudonyms with Vixen Von Sequin
Efsharp and I hit up your classic Chicago Deep Dish pizza joint in Wrigley, where we experienced the POPEYE – Spinach, Tomato, Romano Cheese and Garlic amongst wasted party people. Flo Rida came on a couple times, which was dope and definitely set the tone for NOT wanting to go to sleep, but workaholics gotta have their Workahol, know what I mean?
Bloke and Slink made a drunken appearance at sometime around 5AM Central Standard Time, which make the 7:30 AM wakeup a little precious for them, and snoozing in the car after a quicktime stop at America’s version of Tim Horton’s, Dunkin’ Donuts.I bought my two favorite junk foods as we left Chi Town, SoBe’s Pina Colada juice and Cheetos Flamin’ Lime crunchy cheezies. I don’t even like junk food. But seriously, someone, please, for the love of freedom, truth, beauty and love, explain to me why we don’t carry these products on Canadian shelves! This is unacceptable and must be remedied immediately. Get on it.
6.5 hours later, we’re 180 miles from Fargo, having traveled through 4 states since leaving Toronto yesterday at noon. Currently on the playlist? Black Sheep as we breeze through St. Cloud Minnesota. We’re excited to hear our first Minnesota accents, which should have the intense impact of making me pee well before the rest stop. Please, I’m not hating, it’s just like when Americans come up and they’re like “say ABOOT”.
Bloke wakes up and I offer him some of my cheezie delicacy which he accepts before I remember he’s not down with the piquante like me and Breeze. His face is immobilized by the flavour explosion of a single quarter inch cheezie. That’s the kind of fire I’m packing, kids.
We had this really clever idea to just keep on truckin’ all night long so we can actually chill in our hotel rather than a check-in-check-out drive-thru in Saskatchewan, which seems very clever at 3:30PM CST, but may vary its acceptability rating by 4 AM MST. Let’s find out, loyals!
So far the death toll for roadkill along the I-94 to the Hwy 200 Circle sits at
– 3 fluffy bunny rabbit
– 15-17 sweet baby Bambis
– 4 innocent little skunks
– 8 RockyRoad Raccoons
– a tire that looked a lot like something dead (it never had a chance)
– 1 wolf that seemed to have perished from sheer loneliness
– a kittycat
– some ground beef with fur attached on several occasions.
On the plus side, we seem to be making pretty good time and so far haven’t encountered too many of the conservative 20mph drivers we had anticipated around these here parts, however, the road is rife with wood paneled and antler-decaled MomVans.
LET’S JUST TALK ABOUT THIS.
North Dakota, which seems so sweet and gentle in the daylight is a TERRIFYING PLACE TO GET LOST IN DURING A TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR. We missed a turn onto Hwy 52 and ended up on Hwy 2, which was bisected by dirt road after dirt road, with names like “Country Road 443” and seemed to stop about a half-mile in. We turned at JCT 11, thinking it sounded better-maintained and would get us beck to the 52, all the while cursing the GPS (which we have since renamed BITCH).
The road went from gravel to slurry as we trekked further into the twisting lumpy hills, which led to little valleys, half-dead trees and burned-out looking sheds. We turned onto a road (called UNNAMED ROAD) as we were pelted with gravel and water, the car fishtailing at every turn. We held a collective breath until Bitch finally revealed to us the elusive Hwy 52. BUT THAT’S NOT ALL….
As we emerged from the hills, we realized that written in 30 foot-high alphaneumerics, were the numbers 9-1. LIKE SOMEONE DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO FINISH THE OTHER ONE!! Totally creeped out, we continued along the Hwy, where we noticed more numbers and strange shapes, squares inside rectangles, numbers in no particular order (READ: This is where 16 of the bodies are buried!). So basically, a terrifying experience. Coming to the border crossing in Estevan was basically the best possible border crossing experience of my life.
After coming back to Home Sweet Home (kinda) Canada, we stopped in to recharge and reset at (what else) the inevitable Tim Horton’s. The boys took the night shift (I say that like I drove a single mile, ha!) while I ZZ’d my way to Brooks, Alberta, our hotel (and waterslide!)and am currently waiting to do a radio interview before crashing out hard in my big gigantic bed (totally has 6 pillows. I’m pretending 4 of them are YOU!)
I’ll see you loyals after the show tonight!