She's gone Country!

Confession: My last entry said that I lived in Seattle before coming to Chicago. I regretfully admit that it is pure fiction. I....came from....Michigan. There. I said it. I don't feel much better though.

Well, now that I got that off my chest...Holy crap! I may have petrified my roommate. One would ask, "How the heck could you do that?"

It's simple. I place her in the front seat of a car, drive three hundred miles to Michigan, blast country music, and drive through the south side of Chicago and Gary, Indiana (I was even a bit shaken up myself. No sounds were made except for the lonely CD Emily made.) First stop: Some random gas station in Indiana. Now I know that last sentence is enough to give you the heebie jeebies but I must say more. We pulled up to the station and I send Emily out to get me breakfast while I filled up the gas tank. After a slight disagreement with the pump I go inside for further investigation. The clerk, to say the least, did not quite possess good communication skills. In other words, I could not understand a thing she was saying. After a few minutes of "What did you say?" "Huh?" and "So I can get gas now?" and a bunch of southern talk, I think, I went back, pumped gas, came back, and I got my card back. I had never run so fast from the cashier to the car and we were back on our way!

The drive consisted of lovely, repetitive views of the autumn trees plus some unidentifyable ones. It was also more quiet than usual as the roommate was more petrified than anything. I had never seen her so reserved. She kept to herself, sang songs in the car, and kept her hands under her legs out of sheer fright. EEEE.

We arrived in Cadillac after many moments of "Get me out of here!" and "What is wrong with you people?!" and tsking. After realizing that we won't exactly be rocking tonight for fear people (white trash) would not be able to handle our, uh...actions, we decided that the best way to spend our last November 4 together was to have an Arts and Crafts night in the house. Remember, it's a conservative town! They don't know much better! So our mission was to find iron-on letters for our Regimen Rong shirts (with some featured attention toward a certain lead singer,) find earrings for piercing, and maybe some food.

First we looked for the earrings. It sounds seemingly simple enough. (how about that alliteration?) If you thought so too you are Regimen RONG!!! The lady did not know what she was talking about and nor did my roommate, who got quite indecisive on the number and location of the piercings. We left. Strike one.

Second, we looked next door for the iron-on letters. When asked if they had the letters she said, "Oh yeah, they're over here." She seemingly sounded fairly intelligent. WRONG. She showed us a few different types of letters, articulately saying, "Yeah we have these or them ones. And them ones are purty big." Horrified and intimidated by the degree of her intelligence we had to get the hell out of that damn fabric store. Strike two.

Sadly, our night/weekend/lives were at the mercy of the extreme Super Wal-Mart. I know, it hurts much more to write this than reading it. Walking in was not reassuring. The first thing we saw was an extremely injured baby doll on a shopping cart to exemplify the proper way to restrain your child while shopping. I guess statistics have shown that the babies that have fallen from shopping carts have no futures. As it hurts me to say, the Wal-Mart has pulled through. We got the letters and the hearts. Home Run!!

Here's the catch. On the way out we saw two mullets (one was pronounced as rhyming with "fillet" and other was a full-blown MULLET.) One was on a future figure skater. I guess little girls still look up to Tonya Harding. I guess that means we got our home run robbed. We struck out.


What the hell are we doing here? Why are we back in the Boonies?! Get us out!