May 8, 2007


Trying to find wi-fi in Arkansas is one hilarious exercise in near-futility. I say "near" because I'm plugged-in, obviously. I'm at a truck stop just outside of Brinkley, Arkansas, blogging away while sitting under a speaker listening to country music ("I'm gonna haaaate myself in the mornin'/but I'm gonna looove you toniiiiiight"), watching some employees of the adjoining fried chicken establishment go about their pre-lunch rush work and eavesdropping on two truckers having lunch ("Dang! I told that sumbitch to git that dang thang out my driveway fore I bulldoze it clear into his own yawrd."). I need to steal a plastic fork so I can eat my balsamic garbanzo salad in the car. Can't forget that.

Anyway, where did we leave off? Oh right, leaving Chicago. So, I left Chicago and it took a while to trudge through the prairie and arrive in Memphis, but I did. I eventually met up with Uncle Triathlon and Auntie Marathon and went to dinner at Spindini, a new restaurant their friend opened recently and we killed a good bottle of wine and some eggplant rollatini. Yes, yes and yes.

Uncle Triathlon and Auntie Marathon live next door to, of all people, David Guest, so in a pre-bedtime attempt to see if I could get a wi-fi signal, I found it eerily odd that I saw the name of his network (password-protected, as you probably could have guessed) pop up on my laptop. I wonder if I tried a password like "lizasux" I could have logged on. No, I don't think I could have swiped wi-fi from David Guest. That's too weird, even for me.

Anyway, even with a little cappuccino after dinner, I was dead to the world minutes after hopping into bed. I needed the sleep, though and slept like a champ. It's always a good sign when I wake up in the center of a big comfy bed. An experience I always value, really. This morning, I met my tiny cousin for the first time as I ate breakfast. She (my tiny cousin) is too tiny to speak just yet, so our meeting mostly involved a shrill wreeeeeeeeeee noise followed by yanking my glasses off my face and trying to eat them. Still, when you're that cute, such things are okay, if not downright hilarious.

I collect vintagey-looking postcards, like this one, but I have yet to acquire an Arkansas card for my collection. So far, do dice. I have found several for sale that have Jeff Foxworthy jokes on them, but, uh, that's not really what I'm after. Anyway, a country cover of a John Waite song is on, so I think that's my cue.

Anyway, Austin awaits. Later skaters.


brian said...

Look for postcards in Texarkana!

sparkypoo said...

I love your roadtrip stories. :)
Safe travels across Texas--I will be thinking of you outrunning storms tonight!!

Eric Spitznagel said...

Can we begin placing bets about what that "sumbitch" put in the trucker's driveway that must be removed immediately lest it be "bulldozed clear into his own yawrd"? He didn't mention towing, so I assume it doesn't have wheels. What could somebody possibly put in a driveway that can't be removed without a bulldozer? My guess: He's building an ark in anticipation of the coming apocalypse.