Welfareloser's Blog

like i said: the account of my five-day vacation will be presented as a list of sub-lists, cleverly designed to distract you from the fact that i’m too lazy to string this into a coherent narrative.

ROADS

1. MISSOURI worst roads in the midwest, a fact i had conveniently forgotten until i spent a few hours on them between st. louis and kansas city. i mean, damn. I-70 in missouri is really a stunning collection of potholes loosely connected by the occasional patch of asphalt. missouri roads also have the highest density of dead skunks of the four states sampled (kansas came in second, colorado third, and illinois a distant fourth. boring fact? sure! but hey, you never know when that question will pop up in trivial pursuit!)

2. KANSAS nicest roads in the midwest, hands down. i don’t think i hit a single bump or dip the entire freakin way… and it was a long way. you know how i know the wizard of oz is pure fiction? because dorothy ACTUALLY GOT OUT OF KANSAS. see, in reality, nobody gets out of kansas. ever. it’s the state that won’t die, no matter how early you start and how fast you drive. it goes on… and on…

now, nodamnsense was blown away by what a shitty drive kansas was, what with the boring landscape and never-ending monotony. (it probably didn’t help one bit that he was in a massive uhaul on a hot day with no air-conditioning.) i actually enjoyed the drive… it was a beautiful day, you could see forever, the clouds were gorgeous, and i was really impressed with how pretty the numerous fields of sunflowers were. and, bonus! … i found chase’s cherry mash at a gas station, the first time i’d found it on my own. it is by far the best of the hard-to-find mom-n-pop-made candies mentioned in the book candy freak.

here’s a picture i took through the windshield that totally does not do justice to the breathtaking cloud formation i was trying to capture.

3. COLORADO the roads in colorado are pretty good. with fewer skunks! really, the important thing to mention is that the speed limit is 75, which totally rocks.

4. DENVER (if you are bothered by the fact that the first three items on this list are states, and the fourth a city, go fuck yourself, and get some meds for the OCD on the way.) i quickly remembered this from my last trip to denver six years ago (“quickly” actually being shorthand for “not quickly enough, since i had already left the house without adequate directions”): none of the streets in denver are two way, nor are they anywhere close to straight. if you don’t know where you’re going and how to get there, you’re fucked. in denver, the answer to the question “how do you get there from here?” is pretty much maniacal laughter.

nodamnsense had a run of short work days while i was there (yay!) but on the one day he was working late, i ventured into downtown denver to find some brewpubs (there are FOUR in denver, which is as good a reason as any to live there) to buy beer and t-shirts for positiverolemodel. i found flying dog (which yielded a “horn dog barleywine” t-shirt, a four-pack of “gonzo imperial stout,” and a special-release champagne bottle of “wild dog weizenbock”) and breckenridge brewery, which wouldn’t sell me any beer (i really wanted to take home a growler of fresh draught, but struck out) but had a really cool t-shirt for their new summerbright ale, a weizen which is getting stellar reviews across the board.

anyway, i had printed out directions from nodamnsense’s place on the outskirts of denver to all the brewpubs in denver before leaving home, because i have my priorties straight. as is my habit, i didn’t print out reverse directions, because even though my sense of direction is bad enough to have earned me the nickname “magellan,” going back the way you came just isn’t hard.

unless you’re in denver. you can’t go the way you came on a one-way street, and you can’t easily find the corresponding parallel street that goes one way the OTHER way when there’s no such thing as “parallel” because there’s no such thing as “straight.” or “right angle.” oops. now, i’m not completely stupid; in addition to the google map that got me from the apartment to the brewpubs, i also had my rand mcnally road atlas, which had a decent (though not terribly detailed) map of the city, AND i had the foresight to steal nodamnsense’s phone book for the meticulously detailed map in there. funny thing about the denver phone book map that i discovered as soon as i got lost… it doesn’t show the whole city of denver! no shit! it actually only shows the center of the city, and where other phone books would say “map continues at G-12 on page 38,” or the like, the denver map just ended. fuuuuuuuck. so i spent a good half-hour, maybe longer, caroming through the 6-lane roads of denver, flipping through 3 maps, and felt like a freakin genius when i finally rolled into nodamnsense’s parking lot. it was a character-building experience, and i am a better person for it. and by “better person,” i mean “a person who will always print out return directions from now on.”

CITIES IN DIRE NEED OF MY RIDICULE

1. FULTON, MO every city along a major highway is like a whore in a hoochie skirt and halter top trying to catcall johns into pay for her services; replace “whore” with “city,” “hoochie skirt” with “attractions,” and “catcall” with “billboard describing the city’s attractions,” and the simile becomes clear. now, some cities advertise war memorials, presidential monuments or libraries or birthplaces, museums from antique cars to elvis to toys, or even something completely lame like the world’s second-largest ball of rubber bands. hey, whatever gets the truckers to stop for a shower and a slice of pie; it’s all good.

but by far the saddest catcall i ever saw was the billboard for fulton, missouri. the one goddamned claim to fame this sorry little shithole had was that winston churchill had once visited the town. at some point, somebody decided to build a museum about the event, and put up a billboard advertising it. now, to return to my simile, this is like a 73-year-old quadruplegic midget whore using “i only have two std’s; guess what they are and you get a blowjob for half-price!” as her catcall.

2. KANORADO okay, i didn’t actually note which of kansas or colorado actually claims this city, and i don’t care. they should both be ashamed of themselves, goddammit. it’s no more forgivable than illiana or michiana, two very good reasons to be ashamed of the state of indiana.

THINGS THAT FUCKED WITH MY IMPULSE CONTROL

1. SPAREANYTHING though i suppose the correct phonetic rendering of the name would be more like “sparan’thang.” spareanything is a two-inch bluegill that nodamnsense caught and decided to keep in an aquarium in his living room (so he could “study it and learn its ways,” thus making him a ninja of a fly-fisherman.) it got its name by being a shameless beggar for all things food-like, jumping and flipping and damn near turning into a seaworld dolphin anytime anyone walks by. he was named after a homeless dude at our alma mater (who has been here at least the entire 13 years of positiverolemodel’s stay) who hangs out around the bars every night, hitting up drunk college kids with “spare anything?” it’s probably quite lucrative; i know i’ve given him money several times over the years, because, hey, i’m drunk and happy, and he should be too.

anyway. the first time spareanything fucked with my impulse control was when i wondered how big i could get the little fucker if i fed the shit out of him for 5 days while nodamnsense was at work. i’d find it really funny if he had to keep the damn thing in his bathtub because it outgrew the aquarium.

the second was when nodamnsense asked me what kind of pranks i had pulled on his shit while he was out, and i just laughed. i hadn’t actually done anything, but because of our 7-year history of trading spectacular pranks, he thinks i did. (in fact, he emailed positiverolemodel to ask for a hint, and he just told nodamnsense that he wouldn’t find it, but he’d probably smell it in a month or so.) so, while on the phone with positiverolemdel, i decided i probably just ought to take a fat shit in the fishtank. he gave this idea the serious consideration it deserved for a long moment, but ultimately decided that it would likely just end with me, a turd, and a pissed off fish splattered in a large puddle of water and broken glass. my husband is nothing if not wise.

2. THE SPRINKLER SYSTEM so while laying on the futon in the living room, drifting off to sleep to the gentle waterfall sounds of the aquarium and the “yeti crashing through the waterfall to eat your face” sounds of nodamnsense snoring in the next room, i noticed a shiny object up on the wall near the ceiling. it took me a moment to realize that it was a sprinkler. wow. i’ve never been in a residence that had an honest-to-god sprinkler system (meaning, not an improvised one made from a watering can, a precariously perched bucket, or the kitchen sprayer) before.

i mean, for such a ridiculously small output of effort – striking a single match – you get such a spectacularly huge reward – massive rainfall that would wake nodamnsense up screaming! how hard is that to pass up? hard, i tell you! it took me a long time to fall asleep, giggling to myself!

3. MENTOS AND DIET COKE so the denver post ran an entire lengthy article about the mentos-and-diet-coke phenomenon. i had never heard of it before, but apparently, a search for “mentos diet coke” on youtube will yield dozens of videos of variations on the results of mixing the two. the reaction was explained (a couple of mint mentos will cause every single bubble in a bottle of diet coke to forcible EXIT the diet coke all at the same time) along with the variations on the “experiment” that the journalist had either witnessed (fruit mentos don’t work, nor do sugary sodas or non-flavored carbonated water) or tried himself (like holding a huge amount of diet coke in his mouth and popping in a couple of mentos… in describing the results, he used the words “spectacular,” “frightening,” “out my nose,” and “nearly died.” and if you can pass up trying that yourself, you have the impulse control of a fucking rock!)

so, yeah. i had to go to the grocery store on the corner for some food for the return trip and a few things for nodamnsense’s fridge, and a bottle of diet coke and a box of mentos came home with me. i forgot about them until we were headed out for dinner, and i spent the entire time on the drive there, at the restaurant, and on the way back, telling him that i had an “experiment” or “surprise” waiting for him at home that he had to help me with. his pained look every time i laughed was priceless. i believe his exact quote was “anytime the word ‘experiment’ comes out of your mouth, i should just call the fire department immediately.” but i had a trump card: “it’s my birthday. you have to do what i say.”

anyway. not being a dumbass, he had a pretty good idea of where things were headed when i told him to mix two substances in his mouth, and he managed to spit his entirely into the sink. after a stunned silence, he just said “wow.” mine shot out about 6 or 7 feet, which was pretty damned impressive, and i managed to direct the stream well enough that none came out my nose. then we dropped a couple more mentos in the rest of the 20-oz bottle, and watched it shoot up at least a foot. imagine what a 2-liter would do!!!! everybody must try it! give yourself over to the power of the gods of food engineering! experience the majesty of the near-nuclear explosion that, no shit, killed that mikey kid from the life cereal commercials! NOW YOU’RE PLAYING WITH POWER!

4. ALL YOU CAN EAT WOOD-FIRED PIZZA BUFFET plus, i’m pregnant. do i really need to say any more? of all the restaurants we hit, oh sweet monkey christ was that the winner.

5. COLDSTONE CREAMERY CAKE BATTER ICE CREAM

i would eat it with a goat
i would eat it on a boat
i would eat it in the rain
i would eat it on a train
i would eat it here or there
i would eat it anywhere!

okay, i *would* eat it anywhere, except it’s not AVAILABLE just anywhere. the only ones in illinois are in the chicago area, there are none in my frequently-visited hometown in the st louis area, and there are none in the entire state of fucking iowa, where i’m moving next. DAMMIT! and with that, nodamnsense will have to put up with me visiting at least twice a year.

now, the impulse control got fucked with, not only by the sheer volume of ice cream that i was served and hell-bent on eating now matter how much it hurt, but also by the stir-ins. i got my cake batter ice cream, not plain, but as the “candyland” apocalypse. it had chopped up kitkats, snickers and m&ms in it. about halfway through the jesus-christ sized portion they called “medium,” the m&ms were just overkill… mediocre chocolate getting in the way of the sweet, sweet butter-and-vanilla explosion that was the cake batter ice cream.

now, i learned in high school, whilst laying bored on my bed with my trusty marksman slingshot at my side, that m&ms make awesome projectiles. (when my mom repainted after i moved out, she asked me what all the hundreds of red, orange, brown, yellow and blue dings in the ceiling were. i said “i don’t know.” hey, frown if you will, but the woman had it coming; she had just taken down a 3-year accumulation of dragon artwork from dragon magazine and THROWN IT ALL AWAY. something about the rubber cement being the wrong adhesive choice. whatever!) now, since i didn’t have my slingshot with me (note to self: along with the zippo lighter and economy-size KY jelly, the slingshot goes on the list of “things that always get packed for any trip”) and i had a bunch of projectiles swimming in my ice cream as we walked the streets of downtown denver, the only logical thing to do was dig them out with my finger, suck the ice cream off them, and spit them at nodamnsense’s head. i’m not a bad shot, by the way!

now, having spent his first month of residency in the denver general ER, nodamnsense has learned three things (see? a sub-list!):

a) if you hang out on the corner in denver minding your own business long enough, an ass-beating will eventually come along, probably in the form of a cop

b) if the cops don’t beat your ass, one of the many bands of feral ninjas that roam the streets of denver will (this information is from the badly swollen mouth of an addict nodamnsense treated a while back, who couldn’t remember how he got all bitched up, but since he had studied tae kwon do, it “must have been ninjas. several of them.” so take that for what it’s worth… the gospel truth!)

c) ER residents and attendings collectively have an awesome sense of humor

anyway. he was pretty sure that me spitting m&ms at him on the streets of denver would end with his ass in the ER, haven taken an ass-beating from either cops or feral ninjas, and getting laughed at by all of his colleagues for the rest of his life. disappointingly, this didn’t happen.

6. SWALLOW HILL this is some sort of foundation that bought an old church and invited anyone with an instrument to show up and play old-timey music. they have blues jams, bluegrass jams, celtic jams, and more. these people actually let me in the door with a banjo i built myself and ENCOURAGED ME TO PLAY IT. never had one lesson! even more amazingly, nobody told me to stop after they heard the results of my two months of practicing (which pretty much amounted to “chopping a chord, or at least two or three strings of a chord, occasionally even the right chord, more or less in time with the rest of the musicians.”) now, any impulse control i might have had when it comes to knowing my place and shutting the hell up when i don’t know which end is up went totally out the window in such a nice environment. we hit the celtic jam on monday night, the bluegrass jam on tuesday night, nodamnsense burned down the trailer park, and i made some noise, too. and it was good. and jesus wept!