9 hours in a car produces weird thoughts

Well here I am in Pocatello. Jealous? Probably.

It was quite the day, with a bunch of driving and singing alone in my car. I have an amazing voice, if I do say so myself. And I do. Often. Somehow, however, it just loses a little something if others are present. Rest assured, though, that in the privacy of my car or my shower, no one can belt out "These Boots are Made for Walking" like yours truly.

Uh, so yeah. My trip so far.

Before I begin, though, I should discuss an event fromt the other day. The other night I had a little *accident* at my house while doing some repairs. I’m not going into details—mainly to protect my own innocence—but I’ll just say that I was fixing a chair and suddenly I was bleeding. Not copious amounts, but enough to perhaps validate a trip to the hospital. I got a ride from my neighbor, who was extremely sweet about the whole thing instead of laughing in my face, which she should have been. I deserved it.

So we get there, and I tell the nurse (after she makes me lie down, since apparently I looked “green” and “about to pass out.” In her professional opinion, at least.) that I’m not fond of blood and I don’t handle shots well. She nods, signifying to me that she understood. But apparently she went and told the doctor that I love, love, love shots since I ended up having to get two. Inside the wound. Hurt like a mother. I also got three stitches, but really I’m more proud that I took my shots like a big girl. Of course, I made my neighbor hold my hand. And there might have been some slight swearing under the breath.

That is not a weird fear, just to let you know. Being afraid of shots, that is. I know someone who's afraid of midgets. Wait, that’s me. Ok, so I know someone else who’s afraid of rabbits. Uh . . . that might be me, too. Damn, maybe other people are right. Maybe there is something wrong with me.

But I digress.

Ok, so here are some highlights from my drive. First, I drove through Montana and saw—and this is my favorite part of the drive, by the way, every time—the big billboard advertising for Montana’s world-famous Rocky Mountain Oysters and their Testical Festival. I love Montana. Next, I was passing some guy in a Geo Metro, while I was in the right lane. Which I thought was weird, but then I saw why he was driving slowly in the passing lane. As I pass him, his girlfriend pops up in her seat. Well, to be more exact, I guess she popped up from his seat. Guess what she was doing? Hmm. And then, and I swear to God, she wiped her mouth.

Seriously almost wrecked my car because I was laughing so hard. Good for him. Yet another reason to love Big Sky Country.

Oh, that reminds me, I saw three Hummers while driving to Pocatello today. The vehicles. Perverts.

I also saw a car with Hawaiian plates. Driving in Montana. I don’t know why that struck me as so funny. Probably because I was hearing the Dead Milkmen in my head saying, “My parents drove my new car up from the Bahamas.”

So I got to Pocatello and got to meet my two newest little nephews, who are not quite a month old. I doubt my brother and sister-in-law were overwhelming pleased with me when the first thing I did, as I was holding little Mitch, was announce my rules for the nephews. Rule one: no throwing up, even a little, on Auntie. Rule two: no drooling on Auntie. Rule three: no crying while Auntie is holding you. I must say that both the boys were fairly obedient. Drew drooled a bit on me, but luckily I had a burping cloth (ew) to protect me.

And they were cute enough. I guess we’ll see how I feel after spending more time with them. If they stop obeying the rules, all best are off, though.

Right now, I'm watching "My Fair Brady." Chris Knight is a whore. But I might still love him. Aach. He just proposed to what's-her-name. And he actually said, "Looks like you bagged your Brady." Her reply: "No, I bagged my Knight in shining armor."

And that's day one from my vacation.