tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295714482024-03-08T17:00:04.393-08:00carjoyCrispy-licious! Juicy-licious!Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-72972608263064288342008-08-24T18:20:00.001-07:002008-08-24T18:20:24.875-07:00We're Baaaaaaaaaack!I wouldn't call it a comeback...<br /><br /><a href="http://eastinfection2008.blogspot.com/" title="East Infection Animation by jrujrujru, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3077/2792951279_b01e1bf9d9_o.gif" width="325" height="487" alt="East Infection Animation" /></a><br /><br />It's really more of a flare up.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">For more road trip blog hilarity, please see <a href="http://eastinfection2008.blogspot.com/">East Infection 2008</a>. We promise that you'll only be slightly disappointed.</span>Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1174505634675130232007-03-21T13:27:00.000-07:002007-03-21T13:33:54.686-07:00Coming Soon!<div style="text-align: left;">Let's be honest. Nothing can live up to the fun that was Carjoy-especially since Jon now has a "big boy" job and can't go on another road trip for a long, long time. <br /></div><br />But that won't stop me from trying again--this time on the East Coast.<br /><br />And so, this Friday, I invite you to join Keith and I on the Worst. Road Trip. Ever.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://WorstRoadTripEver.blogspot.com" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/148/427058141_d649d817b9.jpg" alt="PTA" height="500" width="321" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Don't worry. Jon will definitely be there in spirit. And MamaRu and PapaRu will make an appearance--along with America's Newest Ruane: MollyJoy! <br /><br />So come visit us at <a href="http://WorstRoadTripEver.blogspot.com">WorstRoadTripEver.blogspot.com!</a> You'll almost surely regret it!<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1152177157545297392006-07-06T02:08:00.000-07:002006-07-07T03:07:57.446-07:00Right Back Where We Started FromIt's been a looooong ten days. (Has it really only been ten days?) Our final day of Carjoy was spent in luxury on Tuesday, 7/4 at the lovely Miramonte Spa and Resort--a far cry, to be sure, from the Best Western in Beaver, Utah, where, on Day One, someone pooped in the pool.<br /><br />I feel like I've lived through four centuries since that episode.<br /><br />Anyway, this was my first spa experience, and one that was definitely welcome after sitting in the Turquoise Bullet for over 2600 miles. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2394.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2394.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Jon and Jeff with special Carjoy guests: Keith and Brad!</span><br /></div>Keith and Brad joined Jon and I on this final leg of our journey. After waking up from the most restful night of sleep I think Ive ever had (Jon mentioned the beds already...but seriously, they were ridiculously comfortable...) we all went to the Well Spa and began swimming and sunning.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2377.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2377.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jollibee relaxes, but doesn't like to get his hat wet. . .</span></span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2376.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2376.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2374.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2374.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2372.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2372.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">AlienJoy!</span></span></div><br />Even my phone decided to take a swim in the pool! (OK, maybe that was my fault. But come on--I had just spent ten days in a car!) Otherwise, the spa day was amazing.<br /><br />We all took a dip in the pools, suffocated in the steam room, and then we each got a massage. I treated myself a hot cobblestone treatment, where I was hoping that they'd just throw rocks at me until I was dead. However, they simply heated up the rocks until they were molten lava and then rubbed them all over me. It felt much better than it sounds, and once the burns heal I'm sure to feel very relaxed.<br /><br />Ok, it actually felt really, really good. I'm just annoyed that my masseuse was gabbing with the masseuse that Keith, Brad and Jon all had...and told her that I might be a little ticklish. Their massuese came out and immediately shared that information with them. Giggling (on their part) ensued. My relaxation was short-lived, to be sure. <br /><br />I'd have called to complain, but as it turns out, when you swim with your phone, it stops working. Stupid razr.<br /><br />Anyway, after a (nearly) stress-free day, Jon and I drove the last 100+ miles back to LA's own Jollibee to officially finish off Carjoy, 2006, just the way we started--albeit a little more haggard after driving approximately 2,777 miles.<br /><br />Thanks for paying attention to Carjoy! Hope you had half as fun reading it as Jon and I had living it. (Well, most of it, anyway...)<br /><br />See you at Jollibee!Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1152131332651173032006-07-05T13:23:00.000-07:002006-07-06T02:05:44.763-07:00Here's The Thing. . .Earlier this week, as we were driving out of Stupid New Mexico, we began seeing signs for "The Thing."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/The%20Thing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/The%20Thing.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />For almost two hundred miles, the side of the road is littered with them (along with various other New Mexican debris). Jon and I had already agreed that we weren't going to stop at The Thing if it was before we reached the state border. Luckily for us, it was in Arizona.<br /><br />So....after hours of seeing the billboards. . .we were wondering what you're wondering. . .<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0532.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0532.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Good question. Lucky for you, your Carjoy correspondents were on the scene to investigate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2309.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2309.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Unfortunately, we're still not really sure what it is. It costs a dollar, that much we know. You enter into what is essentially the back of the cheesy rest area/gift shop, and you're greeted with this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2303.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2303.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>An early model tractor: Just "The Thing" for replacing four-legged horse power, as the sign says.<br /><br />Is that it? Is that really The Thing?<br /><br />No. As you wander through, this place becomes a sort of museum, inside of what are essentially giant metal trailers that are connected by a sidewalk with giant yellow footprints. In the second trailer is a collection of . . .well, artifacts is probably too strong of a word, but I'll use it anyway. There were some 400 year old guns on display, along with old Morse Code transmitters, some random signage, and lots of wood carvings. Some of them depicting scenes. . .<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0530.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0530.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">TortureThing<br /><br /><br /></span></span></div>...and some depicting....other things. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0534.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0534.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />(We think that one might have made the yellow footprints!)<br /><br />In the final metal trailer, you are treated to this Thing:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2308.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2308.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Some sort of mummified corpse, laying beneath a glass covered in bird poop. (Of course something pooped on it.) Not quite the plasticized corpses we saw in Denver, but still. It was a little too Poltergeist-ish for me.<br /><br />And then...there's this Thing:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2306.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2306.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Yes. That's a Hitler dummy.<br /><br />Seriously.<br /><br />Who puts that anywhere?<br /><br />Arizona got off to a bad start.<br /><br />Or perhaps it was run-off suck from people speeding out of New Mexico. Either way...The Thing was almost worth the dollar just for the fact that it was somewhere other than New Mexico. Except for the Hitler bit, it was an interesting assemblage of items.<br /><br />And also a complete waste of time....kind of like this post.Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1152129185406609402006-07-05T12:52:00.000-07:002006-07-05T13:05:13.603-07:00New Mexico? More like BOO Mexico!Sorry for our lack of updates. We've been too busy celebrating the fact that we made it out of New Mexico (realatively) unscathed.<br /><br />Upon arriving in Phoenix on Sunday night, Jon and I met up with my friend Amy and her fiancee Brian. I've known Amy since I was in High School, and had a job working in Wildwood, NJ at an arcade. They met us at a gay bar called Amsterdam in downtown Phoenix...mere blocks from the Ramada we were staying.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0539.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0539.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jeffjoy and AmyLove<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0545.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0545.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Now with Brian!</span></span><br /></div></div><br />I was sad to discover the bar was having a kareoke night. Blam! Brian got up to sing, and once he finished, our party moved to the outdoor area so that we could talk in peace. Amy and I had fun reminiscing about our past, and caught up with each other's presents. Of course, my favorite part was when she figured out I was gay--<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/jeffbalanced.0.jpg">the photos</a> of Jon and I at the rocks in Utah were the first thing to tip her off, apparently.<br /><br />Keep in mind, we haven't seen each other in a <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span>long time.<br /><br />Amy was sweet as pie, just how I remember. And since Jon and I were verybusy celebrating the fact that we were out of New Mexico, the liquor flowed...although there was one sculpture there that reminded us of The Land of Enchantment:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0549.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0549.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />"Half a Man" can be yours...for only three thousand dollars.<br /><br />Nothanks. Perhaps New Mexico can add it to its fine collection of street art:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0223.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0223.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">JonPerv</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0227.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0227.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">NOTHIN!</span></span><br /></div><br />I know I've been raging against New Mexico for the better part of Carjoy, but I honestly believe that you need to know the dangers that lie in New Mexico for you.<br /><br />1. There is NO. FOOD. ANYWHERE.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/nofood.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/nofood.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">StarveDie</span></span></div><br /><br />And even if there is a rumor of food....it's likely closed...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0512.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0512.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>...or you don't want to eat there.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/organ%20mountain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/organ%20mountain.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Even when you find food, it's mutated and inedible.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0219.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0219.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />2. Generally speaking, New Mexico is beatiful. But looks will only get you so far. It's what's on the inside that counts:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/NMwreckage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/NMwreckage.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0177.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0177.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Bear in mind, we were on the "scenic route" through New Mexico. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/desert.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/desert.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />State motto of New Mexico:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0521.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0521.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Foolish things such as. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/crazycliff.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/crazycliff.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>...writing on top of a mountain. I don't know what it means. But it's probably from someone message from someone who tried to escape from New Mexico. Clearly, he's long dead. Or perhaps its an alien communication! Either way, we didn't stick around to find out.<br /><br />Then there's the people of New Mexico. I'm sure most of them are <span style="font-style: italic;">verynice</span>...however, they have very unique ways of transporting themselves. . .<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0294.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0294.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">CrispyBike built for three--towing a baby carriage. SafeFun!<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/riding%20horses.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/riding%20horses.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">They still ride horses here. Ofcoursetheydo.<br /><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/bearsraccoons.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/bearsraccoons.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I could go on. . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/morenorma.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/morenorma.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>and on. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0327.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0327.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />...and on. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/crazybird.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/crazybird.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />...about New Mexico. But there's other, more important stuff to write about. Besides...I think I've made my point.<br /><br />But if U want 2 buy property in the Land of Enchantment. . .<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/4sale.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/4sale.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/ufix.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/ufix.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Go 4 it!Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1152087858850790282006-07-04T23:20:00.000-07:002006-07-05T01:35:07.963-07:00Day Ten : Indian Wells, CA to Los Angeles, CA<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2647.1</span> -- Sadly...we are leaving the beautiful and relaxing Miramonte Resort and Spa behind! Seeya!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2647.9</span> -- Gas Station Stop. Jon gets harassed by a homeless guy. They get into a fight. Miraculously, Jon wins.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2666.9</span> -- Race against the clock time! It's 110 miles to Los Angeles. And it's almost 9 pm. And Jollibee closes at 10:30 pm (just like all of stupidNewMexico)! AHHHHH!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2670.0</span> -- The Lactaid/Gas-X cocktail fails to save Jeff from Jon's "dairy" issues. Bessie the cow refuses to take responsibility.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2674.9</span> -- We pass a sign that tells us that Riverside is in 45 miles. There is no mention of Los Angeles.<br /><br />How is that helpful to anyone???<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2685.7</span> -- Only 89 miles to Los Angeles?<br /><br />Will we make it?<br /><br />Only time will tell...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2685.8</span> -- Waaaaooo! Two sets of Fireworks! On either side of the highway!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2400.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2400.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2698.5</span> -- Traffic Jam! For no reason!<br /><br />Rar.<br /><br />There is no time for stopping everyone!<br /><br />No time!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2710.7</span> -- Fireworks are everywhere!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2723.7</span> -- Since Mama Ru loved it so much the first time, here is a reprise of "Gay Boyfriend."<br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nkVVjOBZthU"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nkVVjOBZthU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2731.8</span> -- Gayest. iPod. Ever.<br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kA8u0dobFIo"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kA8u0dobFIo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />Jon tries to "educate" Jeff on musical theater...by playing "Liza with a Z."<br /><br />Jeff insists on being the...worst. student. ever.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2739.3</span> -- <a href="http://www.mess.net/golden/album/mr_sandman.mp3">BOAM!</a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2763.5</span> -- Fireworks are all over the place right now! Seriously!<br /><br />I don't know if you've heard...but it's the Fourth of July!<br /><br />Happy American Pride everyone!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2767.5</span> -- Another Traffic Jam! AHHHH! We're not going to make it to Jollibee in time for Crispy Chickenjoy! OR Juicy Yumburgers!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2770.5</span> -- We're on the 101! We're almost there! Maybe we will make it after all!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2776.1</span> -- We're ALMOST almost there! But is it in time?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2776.8</span> -- Ten Days later...we arrive at Jollibee.<br /><br />Bookie is already there drinking his purple Ube Pearl Cooler.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0649.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0649.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />ofcourseheis.<br /><br />And guess what?<br /><br />Just like the entire state of New Mexico (and/or New Jersey), Jollibee is closed.<br /><br />BUT that doesn't stop us from taking a Carjoy family photo with Grandfather Jollibee!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0651.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0651.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Happy Carjoy everyone!Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151916489320276342006-07-03T01:40:00.000-07:002006-07-03T18:38:14.970-07:00NOTHIN!Due to circumstances beyond our control, Carjoy will not be seen tonight. Instead, please enjoy this rerun of <a href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12633128&postID=111586322399478264">Emancipation Vacation! </a>(The road trip from 2005!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0563.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0563.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0555.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0555.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Please come back next time for an all new Carjoy!Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151903358992340172006-07-02T22:01:00.000-07:002006-07-04T11:37:55.853-07:00Day Eight: Roswell, NM to Phoenix, AZ<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1791.3</span> -- Goodbye, Leisure Inn. We have to be in Tucson by 8PM!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1792.7</span> -- Leaving Roswell City Limits! Bye, Crazies!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1805.3 </span>-- Jeff and Jon discover that Syphie abducted an alien in Roswell, and used Jollibee to transport him.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0453.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0453.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Alienjoy!</span></span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0450.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0450.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1805.6 </span>Bessie picks a fight with Allie, the alien, raging about years of mutilation to her family.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0456.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0456.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Cowmad</span></span><br /></div>In other news, Jeff has lost his mind.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1809.3</span> -- Jon swears he saw a sign about retarded brakes. Clearly, he's lost his mind as well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1811.1 </span>-- We're officially alone on the road.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1821.7</span> -- "Safety Corridor. Reduce Speed," says the sign. "Safety corridor, my ass," shouts Jon.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/safety%20corridor.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/safety%20corridor.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1856.7</span> -- "End Safety Corridor." Now we can kill ourselves without fear of reprisal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/end%20safety%20corridor.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/end%20safety%20corridor.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1857.9</span> -- Disco Tacos! And the Billy the Kid Museum. No, thanks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/Disco%20Taco.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/Disco%20Taco.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1859.6</span> -- Ruidiso, NM is super crazy. 50% off Furniture and Bears! (Even leather ones. Seriously.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/bearsale.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/bearsale.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1861.4 </span>-- J&J Bar and Country Church. Clearly, we should stop.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/jjchurch.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/jjchurch.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />We don't.<br /><br />There's also a J&J Mini Mart. We don't stop there, either.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0488.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0488.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1867.1</span> -- Jeff and Jon realize they gain an hour in Arizona. Hi, 25 hour day! The extra hour will be filled with pie in Tucson. Arizona, they realize, is already infinitely cooler than New Mexico. They hurry to get there.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1875.3 </span>-- Right Lane Closed. Road Work. Ofcourseitis. Hurrying ceases.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1881.2 </span>-- Bent, NM. I have no joke for that.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1891.0</span> -- Tularosa, NM. Why are we still in New Mexico?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1917.8 </span>-- Desert Sand missile range. Clearly, this is not a Safety Corridor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/missle%20range.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/missle%20range.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1919.3</span> -- Nancy Site. Hi, we're <span style="font-style: italic;">right </span>here!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/Nancy%20Site.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/Nancy%20Site.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1959.1</span> -- NASA Fun Zone! This might make New Mexico less hateful....But wait! It must be some sort of trap of lame-ness! YOU'LL HAVE TO TRY HARDER, NEW MEXICO!!! YOU CAN'T FOOL US!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1963.9 </span>-- But you can starve us, apparently. Hi, there's no food. Again. There is, however, an adult toy factory. No thanks.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1968.6 </span>-- Roadrunner has no food. Just like the rest of New Mexico.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1973.1</span> -- Lunchbreak at Farley's!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1978.8 </span>-- We're officially on the 10 West--the road we'll eventually take to Los Angeles.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2000 </span>-- WEEOOOOO! 2000 Miles!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2000.3</span> -- Traffic stops. Please get us the hell out of this state.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2005.6 </span>-- 248 Miles to Tucson!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2007.7</span> -- Asshat in a truck nearly kills us.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2039.1</span> -- Different asshat trucker tries to take us out, along with the people behind us. We will get out of New Mexico even if it kills us. We might need a new Safety Corridor.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2041.1</span> -- Oh my! A new Safety Corridor! Now no one's allowed to kill us!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2047.2 </span>-- 138 Miles until "The Thing?" We agree that if The Thing is still in New Mexico, we won't stop to find out what it is.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/The%20Thing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/The%20Thing.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">ConfusionFun!</span></span></div><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2061.2</span> -- Need a vasectomy reversal? Of course you do.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2065.8</span> -- Safety Corridor ends. Hi, we're F'd.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2092.2</span> -- Detour ahead. <span style="font-weight: bold;">WHY THE HELL CAN'T WE GET OUT OF NEW MEXICO?! <span style="font-size:130%;">SERIOUSLY??? <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" >WHY!!!!!!!</span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2097.5</span> -- Jon goes to jail for suggesting that you go to "Kranberries" if you have a urinary tract infection. Idiot.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/kranberries.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/kranberries.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2105.2</span> -- A rock formation has the phrase "Fraggle Rock" painted on it. New Mexico is bursting at the seems with a nightmarish level of insanity.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2106.7</span> -- Upon seeing a dust storm ahead, Jon shouts, "Auntie Em! It's a twister!" No wonder we're banned in China.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2120.4</span> -- <span style="font-weight: bold;">GOODBYE, NEW MEXICO! FOR<span style="font-style: italic;">EVER!!!! </span></span>Hi, <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">**<span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);">ARIZONA<span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">** We looooove you!!!</span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2131.4</span> -- Thank God for Arizona/Pacific Time. Hi, it's re-three-o'clock. We're very happy to have this hour over again in a REAL state.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2185.4</span> -- Here's "The Thing." Thankfully. Hi, we're on E! And not the popular cable network.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2309.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/DSCN2309.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2232.6 </span>-- Tucson! In 21 Miles!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2236.9</span> -- It's raining. But at least it's not New Mexico.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2253.2</span> -- Beautiful Downtown Tucson.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2253.6</span> -- Lost in Beautiful Downtown Tucson. Jon: "We're not lost!" Apparently, we're simply misplaced.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2254.1</span> -- We're at the corner of 6th & 6th. Seriously.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2254.5</span> -- We arrive at the B-line. Jon nearly jizzes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2343.9</span> -- Arizona = Beautiful. And so far, not so much full of crazy. And we still hate New Mexico.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2347.5</span> -- "Queen Creek." Jon's RIGHT HERE! And he just proved it by asking, "Could you have made a <span style="font-style: italic;">Dawson's Creek</span> reference?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/Queen%20Creek%20Road.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/Queen%20Creek%20Road.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2352.6 </span>-- It's 102 Degrees out. Hi, my pages are singed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2362.6 </span>-- First sign for Los Angeles. We're not gonna! (yet)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2368.1</span> -- Downtown Phoenix!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2368.6</span> -- Jon pulls over into Church's Chicken to take an emergency potty break. Apparently, eating forty-two pies in under an hour took its toll. Sadly, he had to use the women's bathroom. No comment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2345.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/DSCN2345.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 2371.5 </span>-- Ramada Inn, Downtown Phoenix! Weooo!Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151853551605019482006-07-02T08:18:00.000-07:002006-07-02T08:58:14.873-07:00The Grey Pride ParadeWhen I was a student at Temple University in Philly, I took a UFO class with an amazing professor, <a href="http://www.ufoevidence.org/topics/DavidJacobs.htm">Dr. David Jacobs.</a> The class was great and the idea of UFO's both fascinates and terrifies me all at once. (Especially since all I can remember from the class are the abductee horror stories.) My love of kitsch combined with my fascination of UFO's lead us to stop in Roswell, New Mexico--home of the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roswell_UFO_incident"> infamous alleged UFO Crash</a> in 1947.<br /><br />Before arriving in Roswell, I had a vision of a city full of trashy UFO fun and alien heads. I also had wildly assumed that since everyone in Santa Effing Fe was insane, that everyone in Roswell would be normal by comparison, even under their UFO crash exteriors.<br /><br />The things I saw here yesterday changed all of that.<br /><br />Upon arriving in Roswell, NM, we stopped at a place to eat called "Nothin' Fancy." It definitely lived up to its name.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0313.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0313.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Nothin!</span></span></div><br />We had originally planned to spend a few hours in Roswell, checking out the cheap UFO tchotchkes and random alienjoy before heading out to Las Cruces to spend the night halfway between here and Phoenix.<br /><br />I was not prepared for what we walked into. We somehow managed to arrive on the weekend of the annual UFO Convention. Turns out that they celebrate the anniversary of that crash the first week of July every year. Who knew??<br /><br />Jon and I first made our way through the blocked off streets of downtown Roswell toward the UFO Museum. Most of the non-UFO related shops were closed (ofcoursetheywere--it was later than 3PM after all...)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0316.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0316.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">YumSpell!</span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">As we entered the International (!!) UFO Museum and Research Center, I was simply blown away. They had us sign in, and we made the suggested two dollar donation to enter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0317.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0317.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2120.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2120.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Inside, there was a great amount of detail regarding the crash in 1947--newspaper clippings of the initial reports, as well as those of the alleged weather balloon cover-up. There is also pretty in-depth exhibits on close encounters of each kind, and ancient cultures and how alien creatures seemed to be popping up even thousands of years ago.<br /><br />Of course, there was the cheap, trashy side of the UFO and alien phenomenon. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0320.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0320.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0321.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0321.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">JonJoy by a horse covered with Roswell crash articles. I have no idea.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2126.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2126.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2152.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2152.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">VerySerious about my work.</span></span><br /></div>After the museum experience, we decided that we'd stick around for the alien costume contest. Ofcoursewedid. While waiting for it to begin, Jon and I decided to walk around and see all that downtown Roswell has to offer:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0324.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0324.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2157.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2157.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>We wandered in and out of cheesy UFO shops and found one with a "Space Walk." The guy inside the shop reminded me of Curly Joe DeRita. He was doing bits all over the place and his pitch totally convinced me to check out the Space Walk. Fluorescent painted lameness ensued.<br /><br />We also entered a store where the shopkeep was hosting a radio show from behind the counter. Today's subject? How the Bible has given us everything we need to know about the UFO phenomenon...but we just need to know where to look.<br /><br />Jon and I left. Quickly.<br /><br />Besides--it was nearly time for the Big Event: The Alien Costume Contest!!!<br /><br />This is where people dress up their children, their pets and themselves in an attempt to win some sort of small cash prize.<br /><br />I'll let the photos speak for themselves.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2194.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2194.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2210.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2210.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2226.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2226.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2203.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2203.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2190.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2190.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2214.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2214.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/alienpageant.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/alienpageant.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2196.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>This is around the time Jon became obsessed with the pretty, pretty princesses. Seriously, I was a little worried about him. He has about a hundred photos of them. As he told me later, "I don't love them. I want to <span style="font-style: italic;">be</span> them." Ofcoursehedoes.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I was maybe a little bit busy with the guy carrying a bit of foil around, screaming: "IT WAS A WEATHER BALLOON!"<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0389.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0389.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0346.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0346.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Jon thinks I was in love with him only because he was doing a bit. He's probably right. Or maybe he's The One. Either way. . .<br /><br />I was also in love with Norma...albeit a different kind of love altogether.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0341.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0341.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The future Mrs. Jeff NuceraJoy</span></span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2207.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2207.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Seriously. Any retired woman who would get into her Jazzy and dress up like this in an alien costume contest is either totally insane or totally amazing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0343.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0343.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Judging from the bear-claw shoes, I'm definitely leaning towards super-crazy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2228.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2228.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Somehow, even though they handed out about fifty seven prizes, Norma was completely overlooked. Maybe it was her drunken rant into the microphone. Maybe it was the way she stumbled around when she stood up for fifteen seconds. Or maybe it was the basket on her Jazzy. All I know is that apparently, even the wackos have people they think are too crazy.<br /><br />Later, there was an actual parade--complete with fire trucks, ambulances...and shriners in tiny cars driving around. There was also a local high school band playing music from Star Wars.<br /><br />And now, we're leaving New Mexico for good. And I still am not ringing that bell.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2131.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2131.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div></div></div></div>Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151851975181786762006-07-01T20:52:00.000-07:002006-07-02T21:00:59.270-07:00Day Seven : Santa Fe, NM to Roswell, NM<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1590.4 </span>-- Bye Luxury Inn!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1592.4</span> -- Souper! Salad!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT0287.0.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT0287.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Eh! Eh! Eh!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1593.1</span> -- F*cking Hava Java.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1593.2 </span>-- We ask a postman for suggestions about where to eat breakfast. He suggests Carl's Jr, but then remembers that they stop serving breakfast at 11 am. Worst. Postman. Ever.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1594.4 </span>-- Abandoned all hope. Venturing towards downtown Santa Fe.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1595.9 </span>-- With the discovery of Dunkin' Donuts, Jeff doesn't hate Santa Fe as much as he used to.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1596.0</span> -- Back on the road...to Roswell!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1600.2 </span>-- We have left Santa Fe behind. Thank G-d.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1601.8</span> -- We see a sign that tells us how man kilometers it is to Las Vegas, New Mexico. New Mexico uses the metric system? Ofcoursetheydo.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1614.3</span> -- We pass a sign for " New Mexico Girls Ranch." We don't stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1631.9</span> -- Someone else's car appears to be exploding.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1649.0 </span>-- 140 Miles to Roswell!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1659.4</span> -- Bessie declares that she can't wait to get the heck out of New Mexico.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT0298.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT0298.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1668.8</span> -- No Cell service on the road to Roswell. Jon blames the aliens.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1692.4</span> -- We drive through Vaughn.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT0301.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT0301.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's Crazytown here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/ibuyrocksandthings.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/ibuyrocksandthings.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />They buy rocks and things in Vaughn!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1713.0</span> -- Jeff is bored. And driving.<br /><br />Hi...that's a very dangerous combination.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1732.9 </span>-- Still in the middle of nowhere.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT0304.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT0304.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It might be a little boring here.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1747.4</span> -- Only 40 miles to Roswell!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1750.3</span> -- We pass a sign for Billy the Kid's grave. We don't stop. Billy Joel fans everywhere scream in disappointment.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1755.2</span> -- The singing every song like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_Schneider">Fred Schneider</a> bit makes a comeback!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1766.9</span> -- Gay Boyfriend sing-a-long time!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nkVVjOBZthU"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nkVVjOBZthU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1769.6</span> -- Friends become enemies. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/T-cBTvZEV8M"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/T-cBTvZEV8M" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />Enemies friends.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1782.6</span> -- Welcome to Roswell, New Mexico! It's the Dairy Capitol of the Southwest!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1784.6</span> -- Larry's Discount Gun Shop!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT0308.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT0308.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />For all of your discount gun needs!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1785.2</span> -- Lunchtime at the "Nuthin' Fancy" Cafe!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/DSCN2088.0.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/DSCN2088.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's home cooking...without the mess! Or the taste!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1787.2</span> -- We're in Downtown Roswell. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/DSCN2136.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/DSCN2136.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/DSCN2099.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/DSCN2099.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Send help.Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151810372311435692006-07-01T20:16:00.000-07:002006-07-02T07:28:33.866-07:00Munchkinland (formerly: The Land of (Dis)Enchantment)I'm not gonna lie. The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was stop screaming. The second thing I did when I woke up this morning was wish I wasn't in Santa Fe.<br /><br />It's not that we didn't wind up having a great time last night with the lovely loaves....It's just that it was an extraordinarily difficult ride to get there...and Santa Fe certainly did everything it could to prevent it from happening.<br /><br />We missed the continental breakfast at the hotel (which ended at NINE AM...Because <span style="font-style: italic;">THAT's</span> when people are awake and ready to go on an F'ing Saturday F'ing morning) so we once again found ourselves sans food. The woman at the front desk offered up some prepackaged blueberry muffins, but to hell with that. We needed real food. By the time we showered and dressed it was just after 11AM.<br /><br />In the real world, we'd be able to find a place with no problem. However, we're in New Mexico. And like most other sequels, it sucks. Hard. We drove around looking for Hava Java, which, <a href="http://carjoy.blogspot.com/2006/07/seriously-dudedo-you-know-way-out-of.html">as Jon reported earlier</a>, was a disaster.<br /><br />In that very parking lot where the former Fotomat-turned-micro-coffee-house was, I asked the mailman if he could help us find a place for breakfast. "Breakfast? This late?" I nearly jumped out of my car and throttled him. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">IT WAS ELEVEN OH F*CKING FOUR AM.<br /><br />SERIOUSLY. </span></span><br /><br />And I might have been a little hungry. Anyway, he told us that the Carl's Jr (a west coast fast food chain) stopped serving breakfast at 11, and he couldn't think of ANYplace that would serve breakfast at this ungodly hour.<br /><br />My hatred for Santa Fe grew exponentially. Jon and I continued to drive down the road and decided that the only real chance we had for breakfast was to go back into the downtown area where everything was sure to be closed already since it was after 6:30AM but before 5PM.<br /><br />Hi, why is everything only open for a half o'clock in Santa Fe?<br /><br />Anyway, just as tensions were beginning to rise...up like a phoenix it arose. The sign I had so desperately looked for on our last road trip. The sign I grew up loving. The sign that California has none of. The sign that there is, indeed, a God--and that he has not forsaken us:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0296.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0296.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I couldn't believe it! A Dunkin' Donuts! AND it is open 24 hours a day/7 days a week. IN SANTA EFFING FE. Take <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> stupid lame Dippin' Donuts in Oregon!<br /><br />Clearly we stopped. And clearly, my hatred of Santa Fe dwindled. But only a little.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0291.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0291.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Caution: HotCoffeeJoy!<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0292.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0292.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Delicious CoffeeJoy!</span><br /></div><br />After bloggin' and dunkin', we sped out of town as fast as we could...neglecting the need for gas. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that we were out of Santa Fe--never to return!<br /><br />And THEN we went to Roswell and achieved Maximum Craz-E-Ness.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0348.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0348.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">SuperCrazyJazzyCrazy!</span></span></div><br />Suffice it to say, whatever was going on in Roswell distracted us enough that we're officially staying the night. You'll read all about Roswell next time on Carjoy--assuming I don't get my memories of Roswell wiped out while I'm asleep.<br /><br />Also, I'm hoping there won't be any anal probes to speak of in the morning. Keep your fingers crossed!Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151743795171495722006-07-01T02:49:00.000-07:002006-07-02T21:07:11.523-07:00Don't Ring That Bell!A few years ago, when my sister Donna was moving to San Diego, she and her friend Nicole stopped in Santa Fe. They didn't enjoy it.<br /><br />At one point, they were in a store and found a bell with a sign attached that read, "If you ring this bell, you'll come back to Santa Fe!" Nicole screamed, "DON'T RING THAT BELL!"<br /><br />Yesterday, Jon and I discovered why.<br /><br />After leaving (boring) Taos, we headed the two-ish hours towards Santa Fe. We were excited to be in Santa Fe for the night. We were lured with the promise of "things to do." We figured it was a Friday night in a decent-sized city. We're sure to find some stuff to do! Jon did a little research and found a write-up online about a gay bar called "The Drama Club," which is just hilarious on so many levels.<br /><br />Once we arrived in town, we immediately checked into our Luxurious hotel and, having learned our lesson from before, we headed out for some food before we became too ravenous. Jon drove us into town and we noticed that many of the restaurants were closed. According to the AAA book, most places didn't open until 5:30 for dinner. How could this be? How could everything be closed in New Mexico ALL THE TIME??? In Taos, everything was closed by 9PM. In Santa Fe, everything was closed before 5:30PM. What sort of arbitrary, half-assed schedule are the people of New Mexico on? As we continued to quest to find a place to eat, Jon slowly but surely began to get more and more stabby. He began yelling at the cars in front of us to drive faster. He yelled at the buildings that were closed. He yelled at the shopping center we had to turn around in.<br /><br />Eventually, we found a place that seemed open (in that its doors were open--no one was actually anywhere near the place) so Jon tried to find a place to park. It was around this time that he started hollering at the one-way streets for being one-way. Thankfully, we found a parking meter before he chewed my leg off.<br /><br />When we got into the Burrito Company Cafe, Jon silently raged at the ridiculous tourist family in front of us. Once our food arrived, everyone calmed down and we were able to leave Stabbyville (Population: Jon) and Carjoy was no longer StarveJoy...or CarStab.<br /><br />After enjoying the Georgia O'Keeffe museum, we wandered around the Plaza for about ten seconds before realizing we didn't want to be there anymore.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0209.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0209.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Ofcourseheis</span></span></div><br />We got back to the hotel where an e-mail was waiting for me from Lauren--a girl I worked with about eight years ago back east, when I was still working in radio. Turns out she is here in Santa Fe for a master's program, and wanted to hang out while we were in town. I called and invited her to the Drama Club, and she was totally up for it.<br /><br />About ten minutes later, upon doing a little more research, we discovered that the Drama Club closed. Years ago. Ofcourseitdid. And, apparently, that was the last gay bar in town. "Well, to hell with that! We'll just grab dinner and drinks at a pub or something with Lauren and her friends!" Lauren and her friends were already out and having fun, so we decided to join her in progress. It was about 9PM and, unfortunately for us, that's over a billion o'clock in the New Mexico time zone. Every ten minutes or so, Lauren called to tell us that where ever they were, it was closing.<br /><br />After showering and making a half a dozen phone calls to various places, we discovered that, between 9 and 10PM, everything in Santa Fe closes for the night. SERIOUSLY. EVEN THE BARS. <span style="font-style: italic;">ON A FRIDAY NIGHT.</span> The front desk clerk at the Luxurious Hotel we were staying in suggested we eat at Denny's. No thanks.<br /><br />As Jon and I made the rapid descent back into Stabbyville via the Starvation Highway, we drove back into the dreaded downtown area to try and meet up with Lauren before we got arrested on some sort of curfew violation for being outside after 7PM.<br /><br />On our way to the "Oar House" (seriously) Jon and I stumbled upon a closed-looking mall with a sign that promised "Rooftop Pizza!" Since literally every other place we called had just closed, we thought it wasn't even worth a shot. Jon pressed the button for the elevator, but then we heard the sweet sounds of voices wafting down the stairway next to it. Could it be--PEOPLE? Real live people? Coming from what we presume must be the rooftop? Without waiting for the elevator, we ran upstairs to the Rooftop and discovered that Rooftop Pizza was, in fact, open.<br /><br />Crowded it was not, but at least there was food and beverage to be had.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0238.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0238.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Friday night in downtown Santa Fe.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0240.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0240.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Starvation<br /></span></span></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0244.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0244.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >SalvationJoy!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As soon as we were done eating, Lauren called again to tell us that the Oar House was closing. Ofcoursetheywere. We went outside to meet her and her friends, and they were making plans to go back to the dorms they were staying at for some random fun.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0247.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0247.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jeff and LaurenJoy--Together again!<br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Dorms? Really? Jon and I initially weren't too keen on the idea of going to a dorm room and drinking booze as if we were 18, so we tried to kidnap Lauren to find somewhere else to hang out. Surely, <span style="font-style: italic;">Something, Somewhere</span> had to be open. But her friend Katie somehow managed to convince us to go back to the dorms with them. I could already tell this girl was trouble.<br /><br />Lauren and her other pal Taylor climbed into the Turquoise Bullet (our first Carjoy Guests!) and Taylor attempted to navigate us back to the college campus. At one point, she uttered the phrase, "Do you know where we are?"<br /><br />Eventually, she got us to the campus and our Friday night in Santa Fe continued to get more and more random and ridiculous.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0256.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0256.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Wine and Balls. Who could ask for anything more?</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Lauren and I caught up with each other and Taylor and Katie regaled Jon and I with stories of how they've been causing trouble all throughout their dorms for the three weeks or so that they've been in town--including one where Katie entered Taylor's dorm room carrying a sack full of burritos while wearing a Native American facemask. Their neighbor wasn't too happy. Apparently, everyone else has gone crazy from the lack of things to do in Santa Fe as well. Luckily, Jon and I get to leave today.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0266.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0266.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">LaurenJoy and KatieTrouble<br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />The night that started off pretty much as a disaster ended up being wine-and-hilarity filled, thanks to Lauren and her breadloafy friends.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0261.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0261.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Red wine + White wine = TipsyFun!<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0274.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0274.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Jon's Version of Stonehenge</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0275.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0275.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">LaurenJoy, Carjoy's Jeff, KatieTrouble and TaylorFun!</span><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Thanks for the DormJoy, ladies! Good luck with the rest of your time in Santa Fe. Seriously. You're gonna need it. And whatever you do--DON'T RING THAT BELL!</span></div></div>Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151745591418546262006-07-01T02:13:00.000-07:002006-07-01T22:21:50.660-07:00The Statues Made us DieIt's a billion o'clock, and we're in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where we were attacked by giant birds!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0214.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0214.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0216.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0216.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0213.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0213.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Luckily, a hunter rescued us from the birds! But then he shot us in the face and now we're dead. Again.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0220.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0220.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/daffyjeff2.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/daffyjeff2.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We'll update you on Saturday.Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151742841107560222006-06-30T21:30:00.000-07:002006-07-01T08:44:28.200-07:00Day Six: Taos, NM to Santa Fe, NM<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1482.7 </span>-- Jon loses the keys to the Turquoise Bullet immediately after unlocking the door. (Hi, they're in the door still.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1482.75</span> -- We're in traffic. In Taos.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1486.1 </span>-- Jon discovers Great Sand Dune deposits in his gum--the was still in the wrapper.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1488.4</span> -- 63 Miles to Santa Fe!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1512.8 </span>-- Caution: Mountain Poop ahead.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/mount%20poop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/mount%20poop.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1519.2</span> -- Attack of the Tumbleweeds. Hi, one almost hit the Turquoise Bullet.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1523.2</span> -- Jon's going to Comedy Jail. I don't think I have to tell you why:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/Ohkay.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/Ohkay.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1528.7</span> They have a Water Store here. Because that's what you need.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0192.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0192.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1529.6 </span>-- We see Osama Bin Laden coming out of the Oasis Cyber Cafe. We don't stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1535.3</span> -- Jon talks about sex, baby.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1540.3 </span>-- We can't spell anything around here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/weirdsign2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/weirdsign2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/weirdsign1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/weirdsign1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1548.7</span> -- As we approach Santa Fe, it begins to rain. Of course it does.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1551.9</span> -- We accidentally get off the freeway. Somewhere.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1552.6</span> -- Back on track!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1555.2</span> -- Our first gay sighting!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0205.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/320/PICT0205.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1557.9 </span>- Luxury Inn in Santa Fe!!!Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151693124318615812006-06-30T11:33:00.000-07:002006-06-30T12:59:10.130-07:00Sand in Our VaJayJaysGreetings from Taos, New Mexico! Someone at my office described Taos as being "New Agey, with a hint of Musical Theater." I'd be more likely to describe it as "closed" due to the fact that when we got here last night at 9PM, everything except the Sonic Burger was pretty much done for the night...even the Chow Cart!<br /><br />Yesterday we made the long 350+ mile trip from Denver after eating breakfast with Aunt Susie. After being in the car for a long, long while, Jon and I began to starve to death. Again. As Jon pointed out to me last night, as soon as we start talking about food, we should stop. But we didn't. Instead we kept driving. And driving. Six hours after breakfast, we still hadn't eaten a real meal. We stopped in South Park and bought some Fiddle Faddle, but after losing most of it to Jon's crotch (giving their slogan "Grab a Handful of Fun" a whole new meaning) we began the long, slow descent into dementia.<br /><br />We hit the Alligator farm just to spite Cowboy Wes, and had to stop ourselves from eating the reptiles, who were busy trying to eat us. Eventually, we found our way to the Lounge restaurant/gift shop right by the Great Sand Dunes in Colorado.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2038.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2038.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2037.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2037.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Bumbie's Mom! WAHHHH!!<br /></span></span></div><br />Afterwards, we explored the Great Sand Dunes! Apparently, wind carries dust and sand here...and just leaves it, giving it the appearance of a gigantic, hilly beach with no water...which, I suppose, is essentially a desert.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2045.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2045.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sandylicious AND Hillylicious!<br /></span></span></div><br />As we were entering the Dune area, we saw a small child place a sled by a dumpster as he and his family went back to their car. Obviously, with no other choice, Jon picked it up so he could slide down some of the sandy hills...and, since I had a camera, I wasn't going to stop him. Once we went up a few steep hills (my fattiness, combined with the thin air at that altitude made for a slower journey than Jon would have liked, I'm sure...) Jon tried to slide down, using the sled...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0141.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0141.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0144.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0144.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sledjoy!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0161.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0161.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">DunesBuried!<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT0164.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT0164.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sandyhead!</span></span></div><br />...which was about as effective as naming your restaurant "Grimo's." The ensuing hilarity is captured on video and will be posted as soon as humanly possible. While there wasn't really much to do at the Dunes, other than climb hills and pass out, the photos were pretty incredible.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2054.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2054.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">JonJoy and JeffTired</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2060.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2060.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2056.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2056.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Hi, there's nothing here.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2061.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2061.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >Dunesbits!</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2070.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2070.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">YumShadows!<br /></span></span></div><br />Afterwards, Jon and I made it to Taos and passed out after the people in the room downstairs banged on the ceiling. Apparently, we were making too much noise as we tried to blog the night away.<br /><br />StupidTaos. Now, we're off to Santa Fe, where more hilarity promises to ensue. Also, I promise my next entry won't be so boring. Go read Jon's if you want something funny.Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151655577720175342006-06-29T23:57:00.000-07:002006-06-30T01:27:34.646-07:00Dead By Morning: A Photo Essay<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2060.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2060.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Sorry there isn't a bigger post tonight. . .but Jon and I got lost in the desert, and are presumed dead.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2063.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2063.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2066.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2066.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2064.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2064.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN2067.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN2067.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">SadHelpUsSad</span></span><br /></div><br />...or we're in Taos, NM and we'll post tomorrow.<br /><br />Only time will tell!Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151654018771431372006-06-29T23:35:00.000-07:002006-06-30T00:57:20.723-07:00Best. Dogbreath. Ever.Over the past few days, Jon and I have reported on many important events surrounding the animals at Aunt Susie's house. (Not us, you fools. Their pets!)<br /><br />But none of those can possibly prepare you for this. Carjoy's cameras were lucky enough to catch Aunt Susie perfoming a nightly ritual with her dog, Ki.<br /><br />Carjoy Pictures is proud to present "Brushy Brushy" starring Aunt Susie as herself, and Ki as "The Dog." <br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ufGVU5pWXR4"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ufGVU5pWXR4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />Thanks to Aunt Susie for letting us post this! And thanks to Uncle Larry, Hannah and Carrie for helping us trick Aunt Susie into letting us take video of it in the first place.<br /><br />And thanks to the entire Robbins family for welcoming me into their home, and treating me like family.Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151649439198500072006-06-29T21:18:00.000-07:002006-06-30T01:04:38.603-07:00Day Five : Denver, CO to Taos, NM<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1104.8 </span>-- Bye Denver! Bye Aunt Susan! Bye Uncle Larry! Bye Cousin Carrie! Bye Cousin Hannah! Bye Albert! Bye Jinx! Bye Ki!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0026.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0026.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thanks again for everything!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1106.3</span> -- Gas Station Stop. Gas is only $2.879 here. Hi...somehow that is cheap.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1108.8</span> -- We drive by "Most Precious Blood Catholic Church." We don't stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1127.5 </span>-- Jon totally misses taking the picture of the "Tiny Town" sign. It was VERY small!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1134.0</span> -- Syphie enjoys the gorgeous view of the Rockies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0031.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0031.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1135.5</span> -- What exactly is "Loaf-N-Jug?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/loafjug.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/loafjug.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />And why aren't we stopping?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1135.6</span> -- Boo! Road Work again!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1137.8</span> -- We're F-ed! The road we need to be on is closed and now we are on a detour. Ugh.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1138.6</span> -- Yay! Back on Track...except that the right lane is closed. Again.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1147.7 </span>-- Why is there a stoplight in the middle of the highway? Clearly...we are taking the "scenic" route.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1159.9</span> -- Is that Jesus...up there on that hill?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0037.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0037.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />No! It's Santa Maria!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1166.2 </span>-- Ahhhh! Rain! At least Jeff's windshield wipers are working this year.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1170.8</span> -- Jollibee enjoys the view.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0045.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0045.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1181.6 </span>-- We're in South Park!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0048.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0048.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There is nothing here.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1188.2</span> -- We spot the first two houses in South Park.<br /><br />And then...more nothing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1188.9</span> -- We're finally in South Park proper, yo!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/jeffjonsouthpark.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/jeffjonsouthpark.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1189.3</span> -- Potty break in South Park. Followed by Fiddle Faddle disaster.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0054.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0054.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1233.4</span> -- "Counting Blue Cars" plays on the iPod. Jeff points out that his car is blue. Jon dies a little...on the inside.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1233.9</span> -- Jeff makes a valiant attempt to pass a giant tractor-trailer. Both Jeff and Jon decide that they hate one lane highways.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1245.5</span> -- We pass a restaurant that advertises "very AUTHENTIC Thai Food" in Poncha Springs. We don't stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1245.8</span> -- We finally find a place that is scarier than Pork Barrel. <a href="http://coloradoheadwaters.com/dining/showdining.cfm?listingnumber=89">"GRIMO'S."</a> Jeff decides that their slogan should be: "Someone Pooped In It."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1249.7</span> -- We almost die. Again.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1282.2</span> -- Hi...we are in the middle of nowhere. And hungry. Again.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1285.2</span> -- Jeff reasons that we should go to Crestone to eat. Crestone is a weird hippie town Uncle Larry told us about. Hopefully, this town has hippies that eat.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1292.7</span> -- It's raining in Crestone...but we still haven't found food.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1293.7</span> -- An actual tumbleweed rolls in front of the car. Seriously. We are going to die here.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1296.3</span> -- We pass a sign that declares that Crestone is a "No Shooting Area." What a relief!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1297.5</span> -- We finally find the one restaurant in Crestone. "The Desert Sage Restaurant."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0064.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0064.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And guess what?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0065.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0065.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's closed.<br /><br />Ofcourseitis.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1297.9</span> -- Giving up the search in Crestone. Off to find food...in the Sand Dunes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1307.9</span> -- Jon is so hungry that he has been reduced to suckling Bessie for sustenance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/PICT0068.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/PICT0068.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1309.7</span> -- Back on Track. Worst. Sidetrack. Ever.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1323.9</span> -- We pass by a <a href="http://www.ufowatchtower.com/">"UFO Watchtower."</a> We don't stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1329.7</span> -- Gators!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2030.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2030.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1330.9</span> -- Jeff and Jon are so hungry they resort to eating Mentos Sours.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1352.2</span> -- Hi...this is the end. God hates the homos and so we are going to starve to death.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Mile 1352.6</span> -- Real food at the Great Sand Dunes Oasis!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2038.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2038.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Maybe God doesn't hate us after all.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1356.9</span> -- Great Sand Dune Fun!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2054.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2054.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1378.9</span> -- It's a rainbow!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2077.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2077.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />God loves the Gays!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1382.5</span> -- We're in Blanca!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2080.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2080.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Paid for by Blanca Olar, Treasurer.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1387.6</span> -- Only 78 more miles to Taos!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1420.9</span> -- We're in New Mexico!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/landofenchantment.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/landofenchantment.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jeff and Jon are VERY enchanted.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1439.1</span> -- As we drive through Qwesta, Jeff announces that he hopes we find the "Trutha" here. Jon hope to find Jeff a ball-gag-a here.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Mile 1464.9</span> -- We're in Historic Taos. It's very cute. And historic!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1469.1</span> -- We check in at Taos Budget Host Inn.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2085.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2085.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's very fancy here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/1600/DSCN2086.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2597/1084/400/DSCN2086.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Their toilets are sanitary for our protection!Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151562796733332722006-06-28T23:32:00.000-07:002006-06-29T08:33:38.540-07:00It's International!Today was our last full day in Denver. Sad for us, but the Robbins family pets will likely heave a collective sigh of relief. To start the day, Carrie took Jon and I for a walk. Well, I suppose technically she was taking Ki for a walk, but she probably should have kept both of us on a leash as well.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2429.3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2429.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">PuppyJoy!</span></span><br /></div><br />As a reward for Ki's good behavior on the walk, we took her to the Three Dog Bakery: The Bakery for Dogs!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2434.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2434.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">DoggieBee!</span></span></div><br />Ki got some yummy treats, but Jon and I were not rewarded. (Although we did sneak some peanut butter dog biscuits when we got home. They were a little dry.) After snack-time, Carrie had to rush off to a French horn lesson, so Jon and I accompanied (stalked) her to the Denver University campus. While she was in class, Jon and I dined at "Mustard's Last Stand," a hot dog joint located right smack in the middle of Comedy Jail.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177539951/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/63/177539951_6e5da67428.jpg" alt="Mustards last stand signage" height="500" width="375" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">HotDogShow!</span></span><br /></div>They also had the best poster I have ever seen:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177539947/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/78/177539947_a4f0a448c2.jpg" alt="BEEFED UP!" height="500" width="375" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Elevated YumMeat!</span></span><br /></div><br />After lunch, we wandered the campus a bit and headed back to Carrie's music building, where the <a href="http://www.iteaonline.org/ITEC2006/ITEC2006.shtml">International Tuba Convention </a>was being held. Keep in mind, this isn't just your typical workaday run-of-the-mill local tuba convention. It's International!!! Six Hundred Tuba players from all across the globe all converged in one convenient location!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177539953/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/60/177539953_69333b5e11_m.jpg" alt="PICT2450" height="180" width="240" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Blowfun!</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Carrie was kind enough to show us around to the various exhibits... Some of whom had t-shirts for sale, hilariously depicting the Evolution of Man, with a representative from each stage of mankind holding a different brass instrument-eventually standing upright with a tuba! Did I mention it's an <span style="font-style: italic;">international </span>Tuba Convention?<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177543272/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/78/177543272_d6028f8a18.jpg" alt="PICT2455" height="275" width="400" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >InternationalFunJoy!</span><br /></div><br />Simply incredible. There was also a gentleman on the elevator with us standing facing the corner, blowing into a mouthpiece. (Please be aware, there was no tuba, international or otherwise, attached.) After withstanding more than our share of dirty looks from the tuba-ists (partly for taking a few photos, but mostly for not being "with the tuba.") we made a swift exit.<br />When we got back to Susan and Larry's place, we discovered Bessie the Cow and Syphie had been feeling neglected, and decided to wreak some havoc on their own.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177543275/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/63/177543275_6139072107.jpg" alt="PICT2462" height="275" width="400" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">BadSyphie!<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177543274/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/49/177543274_29e17e1111.jpg" alt="PICT2458" height="275" width="400" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">UdderlySad</span></span><br /></div>As you can see, while Syphie succeeded in annoying Jinx, Bessie the Cow was unceremoniously attacked. (She might have deserved it.) Once we cleaned the feathers up (again), Larry and Carrie took Jon and I to the Bodyworks 2 exhibit. (See Jon's post!). After the exhibit, the animal kingdom decided to exact their revenge on us, and Jon and I were mauled & eaten by wolves. Right outside of the Museum! Honest!!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177539948/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/57/177539948_f2e525ec91.jpg" alt="Bloodyjeff" height="275" width="400" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">BloodyJeffSad</span></span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/177539950/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/57/177539950_9be9d7de9c.jpg" alt="Bloodyjonathan" height="275" width="400" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >JonDriver looking on in abject horror as he tries to fight Wolfburger off with his own legsad.</span><br /></div><br />See you tomorrow! We're going to New Mexico!Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151476823114542552006-06-27T23:36:00.000-07:002006-06-27T23:46:35.906-07:00Someone pooped in it....Part Two!I'm just dropping a line to let everyone know that Jon might have stopped up the toilet at Susan and Larry's house.<br /><br />of<span style="font-style: italic;">course</span>hedid. . .<br /><br />Guess it's time for Plungerjoy.<br /><br />okniteJeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151453994136406882006-06-27T16:29:00.000-07:002006-06-28T09:49:47.126-07:00Which Ones are the Animals?After driving over a thousand miles in two days, Jon and I are spending some quality time in Denver with his family.<br /><br />We took a brief tour of downtown Denver, where music literally rises from the sidewalks. As we were walking around, someone was playing music underground--possibly in the sewer system--and the dulcet tones emanated from the grates in the cement. Not a bad day.<br /><br />We also came across a bar that apparently offers deep, philosphical questions to its patrons:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/Signjoy.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/Signjoy.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Why indeed?<br /><br />After getting back to the house, Jon and I decided that we were going to hang out with the family pets for a while...unfortunately for them. Jon watched as Hannah let their cockatiel Jinx perch on her finger, and decided to do the same--with somewhat mixed results.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-9FKbsNSuu8" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed><br /><br />Then we tried to play with Albert, the ornery parrot. When he's not tormenting the dog and throwing his food-pellets around, Albert often likes to bow his head to entice you to pet him. Then his eyes dilate and he tries to bite you. Little bastard. When he's not trying to hurt you, he will dance. Apparently, however, he will not do so when a camera is on him:<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qrgwW2GfM00" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed><br /><br />Jon and his cousins are now apparently having some sort of impromptu costume party. . .<br /><br /><p align="center"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/176667298/"><img height="180" alt="PICT2384" src="http://static.flickr.com/65/176667298_a64059ccf8_m.jpg" width="240" /></a></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Costumejoy!</span></span><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/176667297/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/74/176667297_bd83926011_m.jpg" width="240" height="180" alt="PICT2382" /></a><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">CrazyfunYum!<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/176667300/"><img height="500" alt="PICT2388" src="http://static.flickr.com/51/176667300_7a3ef2139a.jpg" width="375" /></a><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Frontin' Cousins</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/176667302/"><img height="180" alt="PICT2390" src="http://static.flickr.com/51/176667302_b7f8bfb3c9.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">CousinDogHatJoy</span></span><br /></div>...so I'm going to join the fray! See ya!<br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a title="Photo Sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/uhjeff/176667301/"><img height="500" alt="PICT2383" src="http://static.flickr.com/54/176667301_d2674685be.jpg" width="375" /></a><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Blamred</span></span> </div></div>Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151389090801391942006-06-26T22:50:00.000-07:002006-06-27T00:36:18.096-07:00100 GrandThe second day of Road Trip was pretty low-key. Jon and I woke up insanely early (Hi, 7:30AM Mountain time, which is 6:30AM in real life...) so that we would be able to get to his Aunt & Uncle's place in Denver before a hundred o'clock.<br /><br />We groggily made our way across the parking lot back to the Garden of Eat'n, which is much better suited for breakfast than for any other meal of the day. Our waitress, Shirls, took amazing care of us.<br /><br />Afterwards, we drove. And drove. And drove some more. Luckily, today's venture started off much better than yesterday's for my poor car. And today, we celebrated a milestone--the Turquoise Bullet's odometer hit 100,000 miles!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2349.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2349.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Milesjoy!</span></span><br /></div><br />After one cross-country trip to move out here in '99, and hundreds of mini-road trips (and of course, <a href="http://emancipationvacation.blogspot.com">RoadTripVolume1</a>), my car has proven to be quite the trooper. Here's to 100,000 more! (Or at least the 1500 miles or so it'll take to get us back to Los Angeles over the next week and some-odd days...)<br /><br />We hit 100,000 miles while viewing the "impossible rock formations" somewhere in Utah. We were pretty high up, and it was quite breathtaking.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN1898.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN1898.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">CrunchyMountainTall!</span></span><br /></div><br />While I was actually in complete awe of some of these spectacular sights, Jon was busy being dirty, and somehow convincing me that I should be gross as well. I refuse to even talk about it...even though he's in the other room blogging about it right now, the mofo.<br /><br />So if you could simply ignore his post, and any images in it, that'd be great. Thanks. GO, TEAM JEFFJOY!!!<br /><br />After the rock trauma, we got back to the freeway and decided that we'd stop for food soon. Unfortunately, there was no food of any sorts to be found anywhere in the rest of Utah. Each exit was plagued with signs that read, "No Service!"<br /><br />With starvation looming, we reached the Utah/Colorado border! Salvation at last! Surely, the people in Colorado need to eat!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/ColorfulColorado.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/ColorfulColorado.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">HappyColorStatePlease<br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div></div>Unfortunately, I was lapsing into a coma from malnutrition, so I could barely even make out shapes, let alone color. . .<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/notsocolorful.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/notsocolorful.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">StarvationSad (Artistjoy's renderingfun of Jeff's initial view of Coloradoyay!)</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Needless to say--we had to find food. Quickly. The first exit in Colorado not saddled with a "No Services" sign was for a town called Mack. We saw the tell-tale blue roadsign with a knife and fork indicating that food was mere inches away! We got off the 70 and headed into Mack, which seemed pretty much deserted aside from some sort of newly built Children-of-the-Corn-type of community, and some empty fairgrounds.<br /><br />After driving a few blocks, we stumbled across the legendary Pork Barrel Cafe. It was barely noticeable on the road, as I was temporarily blinded by Matt Smith's reelection campaign poster.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PorkBarrelCafe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PorkBarrelCafe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Yumporkbarrel!</span></span><br /><br /></div>FoodJoy at last!!! Jon, however, <span style="font-style: italic;">SCREAMED</span> that he was ABSOLUTELY NOT eating at the Pork Barrel Cafe. I couldn't understand what the issue was. Anyplace that serves Coke has to be ok, right? The place looked friendly and warm, and I could just imagine an elderly woman inside, ready to serve us some apple pie with a side dish of smiles and kind words. This was just the kind of place we needed after a long day fighting with nature's giant rocks. (IE: The Mountains.)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PorkBarrel2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PorkBarrel2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">PorkFunBarrelYum!</span></span><br /></div><br />Well...at least it looked pleasant to my hungry eyes. (No, that is not permission to start singing the <span style="font-style: italic;">Dirty Dancing</span> soundtrack.) But Jon was having none of it, and there seemed to be nothing else in this Godforsaken town, so we drove off pretty quickly--fueled only by Jon's squealed protests against the Pork Barrel Cafe, and all it stands for. He seemed pretty confident that we'd end up dead if we tried to eat there. Upon further inspection of the photo above, I actually don't disagree with him on this one.<br /><br />We drove down the 70 a few more miles before stumbling upon a rest area with a restaurant called "Starvin' Arvin's." Needless to say, we ate well...but not as well as we did when we arrived in Denver tonight. When we got to Jon's Aunt Susan & Uncle Larry's place, Susan had a lovely meal prepared for us. Jon's cousins Hannah and Carrie joined us for some relaxation as Jon and I ate our faces off.<br /><br />The food was delicious, and Susan & Larry couldn't be better hosts. There aren't any creepy (but ultimately <span style="font-style: italic;">verynice)</span> dolls in the bedroom like <a href="http://emancipationvacation.blogspot.com/2005/05/welcome-to-dollhouseof-horror.html">last year's road trip.</a> The only doll in there seems to be an African American Raggedy Ann doll, and I don't really see it as a threat...so I'm looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow. Starting riiiiiiiiiightnow.<br /><br />okniteJeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151394509667252492006-06-26T21:41:00.000-07:002006-06-28T22:22:46.520-07:00Day Two : Beaver, UT to Denver, CO<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 495.6</span> -- Jon takes the wheel. Bye Beaver! We'll miss you just a little.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 508.8</span> -- We're now at 6600 feet. Ahhhhhh!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 513.9</span> -- First sign for Denver!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 515.8</span> -- We're off the 15 for the first time in a thousand miles (or 400)!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 518.4 </span>-- Hi, we're 507 miles away from Denver -- Home of the Poop-Free Pools!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 520.9 </span>-- Chapstick O'Clock. Hi, we're bored. And we still have more than 500 miles until Denver o'clock.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2263.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2263.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 523.1</span> -- 7380 feet! It's very nice up here!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN1932.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN1932.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 524.9 </span>-- Giant truck nearly kills us. First official near-death experience of Carjoy (after the Jollibee incident).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 534.8 </span>-- It's very scenic!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2291.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2291.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Mile 540.0 </span>-- Jeff becomes delusional and contemplates being a farmer to "become one with the earth," until Jon gently reminds him that he hates nature.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 550.1</span> -- Hi...it smells like fertilizer. Someone pooped in Utah. Of course they did.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 553.6</span> -- "End of Road Work. Thank you!"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 564.6</span> -- Rogue pebble attacks Turquoisee Bullet at 75 mph. Bullet escapes unscathed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 572.1 </span>-- Gas break...because the next one isn't for 110 miles, where Jeff and Jon ride a virtual roller coaster...for free!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2285.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2285.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />It was still a rip-off.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 575.2 </span>-- Are we lost? We seem to be entering a National Forrest that we already entered once before...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 578.3</span> -- Gooseberry Road! (No Services!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/Gooseberry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/Gooseberry.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />We confirm that we are NOT going the wrong way, based on the fact that we would have remembered a sign for "Gooseberry."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 590.6 </span>-- Frequent Deer and Elk Crossing for the next 12 miles. Please be aware!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 596.1</span> -- Jon sees a "Slippery When Wet Sign" and remarks "What a great name for a rock album!"<br /><br />Jeff hates it here.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 603.5</span> -- Utah smells like fertilizer for the second time. And there's a dead deer. Boo!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 607.0 </span>-- 413 miles until Denver! 67 miles to Green River!<br /><br />For those of your following along at home...that means that it's only 120 miles until the Turquoise Bullet hits 100,000 miles!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 646.2</span> -- Miscellaneous debris flies out of the Bullet and into Utah.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 651.7 </span>-- Jeff's hand smooshes into bugs at 80 mph. Ouch!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 668.2 </span>-- It's Noon...and suddenly it's 80,000 degrees out. The A/C is on and Jeff realizes that he is half deaf from the wind rushing pass his ears.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 671.6</span> -- Jon says, "Everything is very expensive in Price...because it's Price-y." He is sentence to comedy jail.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/Price.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/Price.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />He appeals...and is denied. Jeff is suddenly sad that he is only half-deaf.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 676.0 </span>-- Stoppage in Green River for another potty break.<br /><br />Jeff and Jon trade places...so Jeff can be at the wheel when theTurquoisee Bullet crosses 100,000 miles.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 676.1 </span>-- Snacktime! Jeff and Syphie enjoy Fiddle Faddle on the road.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2334.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2334.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Mile 676.5 </span>-- Bessie chokes down a pack of Mentos Sours.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2335.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2335.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 679.4 </span>-- It's official. "Someone pooped in the pool" is the best bit ever.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 692.9 </span>-- Why is there so much construction on a highway that four people drive on?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 697.5 </span>-- We're departing Route 70 for Arches National Park!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 704.5 </span>-- We're at a dead stop, everyone. More stupid road construction.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 719.5 </span>-- Where the F*CK are the stupid arches???<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 722.6</span> -- Only 6 more miles until the Turquoise Bullet explodes!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 724.2</span> -- We're finally at the Arches National Park! Jeff and Jon both do an <span style="font-style: italic;">All in the Family</span> bit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2343.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2343.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 729.3</span> -- WOooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOO! TheTurquoisee Bullet reaches 100,000 miles.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN1858.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN1858.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Surprisingly, it doesn't blow up.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 734.3</span> -- "Incident at Balanced Rock" occurs.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 740.2 </span>-- WoOOooOoO! Pretty Pretty Arches!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 754.0 </span>-- Bye Arches! That was totally worth the detour! Seriously.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 770.2</span> -- We're at a dead stop. Again.<br /><br />And we have no more Fiddle Faddle to comfort us.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 777.7 </span>-- Hi...we're at 777.7!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 799.6 </span>-- For the second day in a row, Sister Ru's Yan Yan Snack Treat that she bought us a road trip gift saves us from eating each other.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 805.5 </span>-- 45 miles to Fruita! Somehow, this offends Jeff.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 817.8</span> -- Jon is over the whole "No Services" exits on Route 70...while Jeff wonders if the bucket of Chickenjoy has magically refilled itself.<br /><br />It hasn't.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 822.5</span> -- Exit 227! No Jackee Harry! And no services! Worst. Exit. Ever.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 827.4</span> -- Welcome to Colorful Colorado! Fancy!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 828.9 </span>-- Exit sign for Rabbit Valley and the "Trail Through Time." Still no Services. Like Poison!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 838.3 </span>-- We're in Mack...looking for food. It doesn't look good.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 839.5</span> -- Still in Mack. The "Pork Barrel" incident occurs. Jon announces that he is keeping Kosher until the next exit.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 840.9</span> -- We give up the search for food in Mack. Stupid Mack. Apparently, no one in Western Colorado eats.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 839.2</span> -- We stop in Fruita. And eat at "Starvin' Arvin's." Ofcoursewedo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN1915.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN1915.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />There was a dinosaur head inside the restaurant. Ofcoursetherewas.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN1916.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN1916.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 839.3</span> -- Back on the road! Jon is back in the driver's seat!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 853.1</span> -- "Extreme Fire Danger!" Apparently, they heard we were coming.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 867.3</span> -- Hi, Rockies!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 879.1</span> -- Dam! (Alas, no DAMBURGER.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 879.7 </span>-- Hi...we're in the mountain! Weeeaaaaaooooo!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/DSCN1934.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/DSCN1934.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 922.2</span> -- Jeff wakes up from a nap...just as we drive past a sign for Garfield city. Jon declares, "Thank God it's not Heathcliff. I hate that cat!" Jeff returns to unconsciousness.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Mile 926.7</span> -- "Welcome to Silt." Home of the "Kum-N-Go." We don't stop.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/kumngo.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/kumngo.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 947.2</span> -- No Name!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/Noname.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/Noname.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1000.0</span> -- 1000 miles! 100 miles to Denver!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1001.4</span> -- We're in Vail! At 8150 feet!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1003.6</span> -- Jon gets *clack, clack* juice on the rear view mirror.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1012.5</span> -- Hi...my ears are popping! Ahhhh!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1013.8</span> -- Both iPods are officially dead. What are we going to do now? Talk???<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1014.0</span> -- Jeff and Jon discover that all radio stations suck here. Jeff and Jon are forced to make small talk. Will they live to tell the tale?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1024.0 </span>-- Jeff wonders why it's so cold here in the mountains, somehow reasoning they should be warmer because "they're closer to the sun. . ." Jon declares him an idiot.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1024.1</span> -- They try the radio again. Thank goodness for Crystal 93!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1057.2 </span>-- Stop in Georgetown at the Visitor's Center. Jeff and Jon are <span style="font-style: italic;">verybusy </span>for a second.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1063.4</span> -- Jon starts FRONTIN'! Jeff decides that he is only going to talk to Jollibee for the rest of the trip.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1090.6 </span>-- We're in Denver! 20 minutes to Aunt Susan and Uncle Larry's house!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 1104.8</span> -- Hi...we're here! Jon is immediately forced to call Momma Ru to confirm his arrival.Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151299399279693752006-06-25T22:05:00.000-07:002006-06-26T01:18:37.210-07:00BeaverJoy (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!<br /><br />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. . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">**BOAM!**</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Carjoy instantly became Carsad. Just add stupidity.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">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?<br /></div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2173.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 249px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2173.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sadjoy</span></span></div><br />After surveying the damage, the car seemed to be holding up just fine. (Aside from the giant concrete block beneath it, of course.)<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/FloodJoy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/FloodJoy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >DumbSad</span></div><br />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.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2175.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 341px; height: 255px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2175.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>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. . .<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2178.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2178.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Bessie the Cow. . .<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2176.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2176.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Syphie . . .<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2177.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2177.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">And our newest travelguest...Jollibee himself!</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">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:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2196.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Purple Yumpurple!<br /></span></span></div><br />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 <span style="font-style: italic;">AND </span>gaudy-licious!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2197.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2197.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2198.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2198.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2203.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2203.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Even the sugar was flashy!<br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2209.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2209.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Sweety SugarJoy!<br /><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2205.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2205.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2206.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2206.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Crunchy YumPellets!</span><br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">At first, we were unsure if it was even sugar. Upon closer inspection, it looked like something someone suffering from <a href="http://www.morgellons.org/">Morgellon's Disease </a>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.<br /></div></div><br />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.)<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Insert joke here. (Along with anything else you insert in Beaver! <span style="font-style: italic;">HEY-O!!!)</span><br /><br />*ahem* Anyway...Beaver is the birthplace of Butch Cassidy...and they sell these fabulous Coonskin caps at the gas stations!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2260.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2260.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">DeadRacoonYay!</span></span><br /></div><br />After a delicious, somewhat incident-free dinner at the Garden of Eat'n. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/1600/PICT2258.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6445/1082/320/PICT2258.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>...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!<br /><br />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."<br /><br />Let me give you a moment to let that sink in:<br /><br />Someone was swimming in the hotel pool...and <span style="font-style: italic;">pooped</span> in it. And the woman at the front desk <span style="font-style: italic;">TOLD US</span>, IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"SOMEONE POOPED IN IT."</span><br /><br />REALLY?! Did she <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>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...<span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> 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."<br /><br />Somehow, <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> 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.<br /><br />Well, I guess it's better than<a href="http://emancipationvacation.blogspot.com/2005/05/blind-ambition.html"> jizz in my eye. </a><br /><br />Jon is SO not allowed to pick the hotels anymore. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">And this time I mean it!!!</span></span><br /></div></div></div></div>Jeff!http://www.blogger.com/profile/02038054444885051763noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29571448.post-1151308857393776452006-06-25T21:59:00.000-07:002006-06-26T01:17:01.043-07:00Day One : Los Angeles, CA to Beaver, UT<span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 0</span> -- Goodbye Jollibee!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 0.0000000000000000000001</span> -- Drunk on Chickenjoy, Jeff drives over the parking block.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2174.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2174.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Could this be the end of Carjoy?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 0.1</span> -- After some careful navigating by Jon and some spectacular stunt driving by Jeff, we're back on track!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 8.8 </span>-- Lost? Already?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 9.1</span> -- OK. Not lost.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 9.2</span> -- Jon declares that Jeff is one "hot mess."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 43.9</span> -- First sign for Vegas! Waaaaaaaaooooo!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 57</span> -- Bit goes haywire as Jon actually opens his door while the car is in motion. Oops.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 57.5</span> -- We hit traffic.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 69.3</span> -- Everyone is breaking down. Hopefully, Jeff's Turquoise Bullet won't follow suit.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 69.5</span> -- Jon discovers that after being exposed to high temperatures...Sugarfree Mentos leak.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2180.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2180.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 75.3</span> -- Billboard for "Adult Fun Zone." We don't stop.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Mile 75.5</span> -- Sign for "Bear Valley." Grrrrrrrr!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 84.3</span> -- We see smoke. Jeff wonders what it is...but decides whatever it is...he is relieved that it's not his car.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 128.7</span> -- <a href="http://www.meiji.com.sg/html/products_lo_yy.htm">Yan Yan</a> Snack Time!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2189.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2189.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2182.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2182.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2185.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2185.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />(brought to you by older sister ru!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 155</span> -- WOoooOOoooOoo! 116 Miles to Vegas!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 171.1</span> -- We see a sign for Zzyzx Road. Jeff screams like a giant woman.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 178.7</span> -- World's tallest thermometer claims it's 121 degrees outside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/hotjoy.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/hotjoy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Human Thermometer Jeff double checks by sticking his hand out the window. He agrees with the tall one.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 227</span> -- Where's <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0366049/">Jackee Harry</a>?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 228 </span>-- We're in Nevada!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 232.2</span> -- Boo! Traffic!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 263.1</span> -- Vegas, baby!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 265.4</span> -- We almost melt trying to get to the purple restaurant known as <a href="http://www.usmenuguide.com/peppermill.html">"Peppermill."</a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 267.4</span> -- We finally arrive at the purple "Peppermill." Two miles...and 40 minutes later.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/DSCN1834.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/320/DSCN1834.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's delicious. And ridiculous.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 267.5</span> -- Jeff and Jon try to find "Old" Vegas.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 270.2</span> -- Park at Neonopolis. Across the street from "Old" Vegas.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 270.3</span> -- Back in the car, Jon declares that he hates "Old" Vegas just as much as he hates "New" Vegas.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 275 </span>-- Jeff and Jon try to find wireless internet in "North" Vegas.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 277.6</span> -- Jeff and Jon give up the wireless search and try to make their way back to the 15.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 278.2</span> -- After gassing up, Jon is very excited to find Coca-Cola Blak.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2223.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2223.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ofcourseheis.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 278</span> -- Bye "Old" Vegas! You smell like BO and cigarette smoke!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 278.3</span> -- Back on the road, Jeff and Jon head for the mysterious land of Utah.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 281.7</span> -- Prison Area. Hitchhiking prohibited. Hot!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 283.4</span> -- We pass a billboard that declares that Utah is "less than a tank of gas away!" Good thing we just filled up!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 306.4</span> -- Valley of Fire! Hot!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 312.3</span> -- At 90 miles per hour, Jeff's side mirror refuses to stay in place...instead it decides that straight down is a much more comfortable position.<br /><br />Don't worry Mama Ru!<br /><br />We're slowing down.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 322.3</span> -- We pass a sign announcing an Indian Reservation. Jeff declares that they have a "24 hour cancellation policy."<br /><br />Jeff claims that the joke was for <a href="http://www.mandelweb.com/">"Mandel."</a><br /><br />Uh...that will NEVER be an excuse.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 327.8</span> -- Jon notices that we've been jizz free for almost 7 hours. A new road trip record!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 353</span> -- Jeff declares that East Mesquite is SO cool...because of the pretty mountains.<br /><br />Pretty? Yes.<br /><br />Cool? Never.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 354.9</span> -- We're in Arizona. And it's still on fire.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 357.8</span> -- Driving towards the smoke, Jeff declares that he is STILL relieved that it's not his car.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2246.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2246.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 364</span> -- Arizona smells like BBQ.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 366.8</span> -- We're driving into the mountains. Literally.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 369.3</span> -- We're crossing the "Virgin River." Hot or not?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 384.2</span> -- We're in Utah! Where are all of the Mormons?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 391</span> -- Family Fun Center in Utah! Jeff wonders if they have wireless internet access.<br /><br />We don't stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 413.2</span> -- We pass a sign for Browse, Utah.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/browseutah.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/browseutah.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jeff wants to "look around," because we're in "Browse."<br /><br />Jeff tries to use the "Mandel" defense again.<br /><br />It doesn't work.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 421.2</span> -- Bessie, Syphie, and Jollibee enjoy the beauty of Utah.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2244.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2244.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 428.3</span> -- Potty Break.<br /><br />Jeff and Jon are suddenly confused and disoriented by Mountain Time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 454.5</span> -- Race against the clock!<br /><br />We have to get to Beaver, Utah by 9:30pm...before <a href="http://www.go-utah.com/Dans-Garden-Of-EatN/">"The Garden of Eat'n"</a> closes.<br /><br />It's 8:30pm and we still have 40 miles to go.<br /><br />AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 459.6</span> -- Jeff freaks out over an invisible bug that has made it's way inside the car.<br /><br />Jon diagnoses Jeff with <a href="http://www.med.umich.edu/1libr/aha/aha_dtremens_bha.htm">DTs</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 479.5</span> -- Beaver in 15 miles! We're gonna make it!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 484.6</span> -- We've entered Beaver County!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 495.5</span> -- We're in Beaver and at "The Garden of Eat'n!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/1600/PICT2258.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/519/1080/400/PICT2258.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It looks amazing....but the salad bar was not.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mile 495.51</span> -- We call it a night...and check in at Beaver's finest motel, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g56931-d73105-Reviews-Best_Western_Paradise_Inn_of_Beaver-Beaver_Utah.html">"Best Western - Paradise Inn."</a>Marble Notebookhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07942850009376646586noreply@blogger.com2