BeaverJoy (or: Utah is Full of Crap)

It's finally here! The 2006 Road Trip--Carjoy! Once we finished our nutritious Crispylicious/Juicyliciuos breakfast of Chickenjoy at Jollibee, Bookie headed off to work and Jon and I piled into the car for Carjoy!

I smiled, turned the car on and said to Jon, "We're off! This is it!!" A smile crept across his face as I put the car in drive. This was to be our best trip yet! And then...four seconds later. . .

**BOAM!**

Carjoy instantly became Carsad. Just add stupidity.

The thing is...I might have accidentally run over the concrete block in the parking lot. You know, those things that are there simply to humiliate you should you forget about them. The loud slamming sound coupled with the violent rise and fall of the Turquoise Bullet made Jon and I both wonder if Carjoy would end mere inches after it began. I froze. Could the car I just spent $500 on to ensure it wouldn't explode during Carjoy be out of service before we even drove one tenth of a mile?

Sadjoy

After surveying the damage, the car seemed to be holding up just fine. (Aside from the giant concrete block beneath it, of course.)

DumbSad

As you can see in the photo above, the crash sent the Jollibee Cupjoy crashing down, spilling Pepsi-licious all over the damned place. The damage to the outside of my car was mercifully minimal compared to the carbonated flood inside, so with Jon's guidance, we got out of the predicament.

With the Turquoise Bullet out of harm's way, Jon and I finally hit the road (as opposed to hitting blocks of concrete) with our trusty travel-companions. . .

Bessie the Cow. . .

Syphie . . .

And our newest travelguest...Jollibee himself!

Around 2:30 PM, we stopped in Vegas for a quick bite to eat. Once we got off the highway, it took us about a year and a half to actually reach food. As we traveled down the Vegas Strip, it became clear that Jon doesn't actually like Vegas. Despite this, he managed to find a purple palace called Peppermill:

Purple Yumpurple!

As we exited the car for the first time since the Jollibee parking lot debacle, the heat hit us pretty hard. After nearly bursting into flames as we traversed the parking lot, we entered the neon haven and were overjoyed to discover such classic Vegas Style. It was definitely neon-licious AND gaudy-licious!



Even the sugar was flashy!

Sweety SugarJoy!

Crunchy YumPellets!

At first, we were unsure if it was even sugar. Upon closer inspection, it looked like something someone suffering from Morgellon's Disease would pull from their skin. So, of course we had to taste-test it. Essentially, they placed rock candy on our table....and it was delicious.

I will admit I was a little horrified when our waitress asked if we wanted sweetener with our iced tea. I pointed to the rainbow pellets and said, "That is sugar....isn't it," suddenly unsure of what I had ingested. She allayed my fears and told us that it doesn't dissolve well in iced tea. (She's right; it doesn't.)

After lunch, Jon and I went to downtown Vegas...or "The Old Strip." We went into the Four Queens casino (of course we did) and, after losing a combined total of $25 (split quite unevenly with him at $4 and me at $21), we decided to get back to the car before we died of heatstrokejoy.

Once we high-tailed it out of Vegas (after a failed attempt to find someplace to blog) we headed straight into Utah (via a brief stint in Arizona) and wound up in Beaver.

Insert joke here. (Along with anything else you insert in Beaver! HEY-O!!!)

*ahem* Anyway...Beaver is the birthplace of Butch Cassidy...and they sell these fabulous Coonskin caps at the gas stations!

DeadRacoonYay!

After a delicious, somewhat incident-free dinner at the Garden of Eat'n. . .

...Jon and I walked across the parking lot to the Best Western to see if they could possibly squeeze us in to a room tonight. We weren't sure they'd have any vacancies, what with Beaver, Utah being such a bustling metropolis of well over two thousand people!

Luckily, they had one (or fifty) roomjoys left. As we checked in, Jon inquired about the pool. "The pool is closed," our Juicy Clerkburger politely informed us. Jon asked when it would re-open and she replied, "It probably won't be reopening for a while." There was a brief pause, and just as everyone was about to move on, she continued, "Someone pooped in it."

Let me give you a moment to let that sink in:

Someone was swimming in the hotel pool...and pooped in it. And the woman at the front desk TOLD US, IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS, "SOMEONE POOPED IN IT."

REALLY?! Did she really tell us that someone just defecated in the pool? I looked at Jon who joked, "So...we can't swim in it?" Clerkburger laughed: "Well...I didn't want to swim in it. . ." I finally came out of my haze and joined in the fray, "So, I guess we'll just have to poop on the beds."

Somehow, that was going too far. The laughter stopped as both of them sort of looked on in horror. Whatever. I enjoyed a mint and kept quiet for the rest of the transaction.

Well, I guess it's better than jizz in my eye.

Jon is SO not allowed to pick the hotels anymore. And this time I mean it!!!