Friday, January 8, 2010

Poo Crew

I'll let Jenny tell everyone about Baton Rouge, the next stop on our trip after Mobile, since I wasn't feeling well and stayed in that night to do pilates while stoned. Yes I brought my pilates DVD on the road.

Instead I will regale you with a story about the scariest town I've ever been to, and the birth of our road trip crew nick name.

The day started off fine. We were listening to the Moth and cracking up. But then I don't know if it was too much fried food and booze or what, but all of sudden without warning the fart bombs started dropping. And I'm not talking little poofs that slip out when you sneeze and that make everyone giggle. I'm talking about the kind that sneak out of the abyss and are so thick you can taste it. The kind you need to open all 4 windows of a car just to get rid of. It was gross.

We all begged Nicky to pull over so we could unleash the demons, or (as Chris so eloquently put it) free some Shiites from Abu Graib. The town she chose was so frightening I almost pooped my pants. Literally. First we passed a maximum security prison. Then we passed a minimum security prison. Finally we found a gas station and we all ran out to use the bathroom, but let me tell you, this place was spooky scary. All the patrons looked like children of the corn kids all grown up. And the place didn't even sell water! "We dawn sell wuhduh hee-uh," this crazy chick said. They had a jar of red pickled eggs for sale on the counter, but no water.

We ran out of there as quickly as our little legs could carry us and dubbed the town "Shitsville" because it works on two levels, you see. Then after getting back into the car that smelled like deviled egg farts we dubbed ourselves the "Poo Crew."


Anyone who does not get down with poo can't kick it and does not deserve a mention by a crew member - Chris (he emailed this to me after I wrote to him that this particular blog was sure to make the boys come a-runnin')

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