Heh, that was a shout out, y'all, going all meta here, from Motown. I'm still here back in suburbia, coping with 8 days spent mostly in the company of my parents.
My homophobic, racist parents. Good times!
But by a certain happy circumstance, someone gave my parents a bottle of really good rum. Rum and cokes can do wonders for one's attitude.
So, heh. The Detroit Tigers are in the World Series, I am here, but alas, couldn't get tickets. And frankly, the constant rehashing of the World Series thing is getting pretty freaking irritating. 119-loss, blah, blah, Leyland, lunch bucket attitude, blah blah. It's like they just trot out the same stories they always write, in what I used to call the cotton candy form*, when a Detroit team wins something, like they have to service some mythological needs of the community every damned day....
Oh, and did I mention the 8 days with my family???
So, homesick for my outhouse and alien/dog and squirrel-infested cabin, I called home today. Or at least I tried to - damn! Did some maniac with some equipment painted yellow get a little enthusiastic?
That, and I am very entertained to find out about the hunters who got their trucks stuck up on the Dalton. You know, where you CAN'T drive your trucks offroad? Heh. All those trucks commercials showing pickup trucks going through anything just don't educate folks on how fantastically stuck you can get on tundra. Bog, slick clay kind of soil, and then, dayum, you're there for the duration.
And perhaps, guys? Maybe driving the second truck out there wasn't the best idea.
*Defn. cotton candy form: lots of volume (word count) with no substance whatsoever.