It's really more of a flare up.
For more road trip blog hilarity, please see East Infection 2008. We promise that you'll only be slightly disappointed.
Free from the chains of employment, Jeff and Jon are going on a road trip. This is their story...
Happy Mother's Day to MamaNu, MamaRu, and MamaRu 2!!!
Jon and Jeff
PS: Look what Jon got MamaRu for Mother's Day:
Dress-a-Cat is something every mother needs.
No. I’m not drunk yet. This morning, we left the bloody Ramada for the comforts of the Beck’s Motor Lodge. Jill and Lulu are in charge there and they’re one thousand years old and amazing. (Jill’s my favorite. She might be The One.)
It’s pretty incredible how nice everyone is up here in San Fran. People actually grin at you as you cross the street in front of them - and not the crazy grins that you get in LA, either. Actual, genuine “It’s good to be alive” smiles. Even the boys serving coffee at Starbucks are pleasant—especially the hot ones that are missing some fingers! (I think he might be The One, too.) In other news, I’ve decided that maybe what I really need is a disfigured boy with low self-esteem to love me. Is that wrong?
Moving on, Jon and I walked over to Haight Street where I, once again, remembered that I hate the Haight. Why must I be forced to walk up these ridiculous hills? Can’t something be done? I guess the upside is I’m losing some of the weight I gained from devouring a box of Fiddle Faddle during our trip up here yesterday.
While on Haight, Jon and I discovered a videogame called “Ms. Pacman After Dark,” which, despite it’s porny name, is merely Ms. Pacman with invisible walls.
During the course of our day, we walked six miles. (Jon is wearing a pedometer. No, I’m not kidding.) Then we went back to the hotel and took a quick nap. Upon waking up, Jon noticed some creepy guy loitering outside of our room. As we left the hotel to go downtown, we saw a second creepy guy lingering. Apparently, old men like to hang out this motor lodge, looking for some quick and dirty action.
When we googled it just now, the following entry came up in the results:
Eros is the only sex club near the Castro (unless you count Beck's Motor Lodge).
Once again, I’m horrified, and once again, I blame Ruane.
Big shout-out to MamaRu! I love your son and all, but he’s trying to get me killed. “Or raped,” he adds, helpfully.
Now, we’re off to drink our troubles away. Happy Cinco!
Oh! Some of the pictures are now posted on the blog—check ‘em out. Also be sure to check out the photos of our badly decomposing bodies that will no doubt be posted all over the news after our night in THE GAYEST HOTEL EVER.
Happy Birthday Jack! You're all grows up!
Shout out to Donna and the girls of Webcor.
Mile 66 -- Back on Track...and we're fucked. Bad traffic on the 101 at 2:35pm. What the F? It's not even rush hour and we're in Oxnard!!!
Mile 288 -- Road Trip Lesson #1: Carl's Jr. Coffee is not so good, but their cookies are really soft.