Happy Friday! What a week, eh? But can you believe how fast February has gone? It’s crazy. But I’m so ready for spring now. Buh-ring it.

So when I was in Nashville, my friends and I stopped in a boot store. These boots are for rich cowgirls.

“Sell a kidney and take me home!”

They were like $2,200 dollars. And they were sitting on the shelf with the cheapo $300.00 ones. Who pays that for boots?  I’d have to hawk my car and my Chris Tomlin CD collection to afford those things. And are cowboy boots really comfortable? I know people say they are, but really I’ve always thought this was just a conspiracy by western wear folk. Nike’s are comfortable. But pointy-toed stiff leathery things? “Inconceivable!” (Name that movie)

When we were on our home tour of Nashville, we drove by this huge building below. It’s the AT&T building.

When we went by it, my friend Leslie said, “That’s looks like it’s from Batman.” Later on the tour guide says, “We call that our Batman Building.” Can you believe that?! Leslie’s like architecturally prophetic!

Everywhere we went there seemed to be Elvis statues. And they were all terrible. It’s like they were really statues of Elvis impersonators.

This one is Jerry Lewis as Elvis.

Andrew Dice Clay as Elvis.

Even the hot dog stands are Elvis related.

Then there was this fountain of naked people.

I don’t know what they’re supposed to be doing, but it looks a little more than Rated PG frolicking to me.

We stepped into Tootsie’s Orchid lounge and saw the back of this guy as he played.

He had a tip jar, but I didn’t think it would be too polite if I stuffed a box of Miss Clairol in there.

You know, it always gets interesting when you travel with people, whether they are family or friends. First of all, our hotel was apparently pet friendly. Dogs all over the place. Which made me wonder about my bed. I’m not a hotel fan anyway, though I’ve gotten a lot better about it. My friends always check the bed for UHN (unidentified hotel nastiness), but I just don’t even want to know. I’ve seen enough Dateline to know the truth. So we get to the hotel, and in the elevator the next morning some woman says, “Are you here a choral kids’ mom?” Um…no. I have a mentally challenged cat that seems to be bulimic. But singing children? No. I don’t have any of those. Then we sit down to breakfast and notice all these people who looked like they stepped out of a Cabella’s catalog. Some guy next to us asks another, “Are you here for the turkey convention?” I don’t know what that is, but it explained all the camo, waterproof boots, and sideburns we saw. A turkey convention. That made me laugh out loud.

Another time I was in the elevator this man was in there with his little rat of a dog. The thing was seriously like three inches by three inches. And I said, “Oh, cute dog. What’s his name?”  He says, “Moose.”  And of course I said, “Wow, that’s a big name for such a little dog.”  And he sniffs and says, “That’s mousse as in the dessert.”  Oh. Right. But you have to admire a man for honoring such a fine confection.

Girls traveling together can sometimes be a little iffy. We ladies are so moody, aren’t we? And it was like at least in the car (nine hours one way), we never could get in sync. When two of us would be hyped up and giggley, the other would be passed out in the back, eyes rolled to the back of her head. And then the last few hours on the way home, I hit a wall of fatigue and wanted to play the quiet game, but my friends were getting their second wind. Here’s a snippet of road trip conversation showing how mature we can be, and also maybe that it was time to go home.

Me: My hands are swollen
Friend 1: From driving? You got issues.
Me: I know. I need a taco.

And then Leslie came up with this STUPID “find the hawk” game as we drove. Whoever found the most won. Well, I rarely saw them, and it just ticked me off. Plus I was supposed to be watching the road and NOT for stinkin’ birds who don’t have any more sense than to hang out on fence posts near the highway. I mean, if I was a bird would I be hanging out by the road? No. I’d be flying somewhere cool.

Me: I’m so bored. Driving bores the crap out of me!
Leslie: Play the hawk game.
Me: The hawk game stinks.
Leslie: Your butt stinks.
Me: Your great aunt Betty stinks.

Me: I like Taco Bell, but it gives me a bad taste in my mouth. Hand me the M&M’s. I’m gonna take care of that.
Leslie: That’s the only reason you want them?
Me: Uh-huh.
Leslie: Keep telling yourself that.

Okay, and I have to admit that all my life I’ve slept with two pillows, one being a very small pillow. My sister in law calls it my woobie. My friend Leslie calls it my baby. I call it “extra lumbar support and please shut up.”

Leslie: I couldn’t sleep last night for your baby hogging the bed.
Me: It’s not my baby.
Leslie: Your baby smells.
Me: Your butt smells.

One night I had to sleep in the same bed as my friend Kim. I was flopped over and ready to go to sleep.

Me: “Hey!”
Kim: “Where’s the remote?”
Me: “That wasn’t it.”

So now the trip is over and it’s back to school and back to writing. Have a lovely weekend. I will be seeing Madea Goes to Jail and writing like a fiend. A lazy fiend, but still, a fiend.

JEN

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