Meg and I almost died laughing when we saw this one:
My buddy Tim just posted about the cartoon genius that is Bruce Eric Kaplan.
Meg and I almost died laughing when we saw this one:
My buddy Tim just posted about the cartoon genius that is Bruce Eric Kaplan.
The brainiacs who stole our car left a couple of their belongings behind. The first was an e-mail that was printed out for some clerk at Austin Community College. It has a couple names, a social security number, and a a post-it note with an e-mail password on it. The second thing was a pair of prescription, rose-colored sunglasses in a Laura Ashley case. The third was a piece of window metal from a 1995 Honda, which means they stole more than one car Saturday night. As for Betsy 2, I’m guessing that they had to abandon her quick. It probably had something to do with the crack in the windshield. Who knows.
Either way, we’re getting THE CLUB this week, and I’m also thinking about pulling the wire that runs from the distributor to the ignition every night. We’ll see. I’m also thinking about finding the person the e-mail was addressed to, and doing this.
After putting a $1000 into my 1997 Honda Accord with 160,000 miles on it to get it to Texas, after it running like a freaking champ the whole 1500 miles down here, two days after it was full of expensive electronics, Ikea furniture, and my life — after all that, some asshole stole it out of our parking lot last night. The police officer I talked to said that 3 late-90s Hondas were stolen in the area last night, so most likely my beloved car is being chopped into a hundred pieces. We were having such great luck so far, too. Damn.
We made it. 1400 miles. The Honda took the trip like a champ. Our life was crammed in the trunk and a rented mini-van. Our apartment is great, but empty. The neighborhood is great. The city is great. Tacos and lemonade for dinner. It’s hot and beautiful. The air conditioning is on. I’m trying to put together an Ikea chair without instructions. Boxes are everywhere. I have a job interview at ten in the morning. Life is good.
It’s 11 o’clock Texas time, and we’re chilling at the LaQuinta Inn in Greenville, Texas, 45 minutes east of Dallas. In Greenville, they used to have BLACKEST LAND, WHITEST PEOPLE, painted on the water tower. Luckily, that isn’t the case anymore.
We swam in the pool, grabbed warm chocolate chip cookies at the front desk, now we’re watching some cable. Today we drove to Memphis and did something I never thought we’d do.
We went to Graceland.
Fun facts about Elvis that I did not know, and did not learn from the Graceland tour, but from my mother-in-law: that Priscilla was 14 when she met Elvis, and that “the king died on the throne.”
Here’s a fun sign on Vernon Presley’s (Elvis’s dad) office door:
I couldn’t get a good picture of Elvis’s office, but there were books about football, karate, World War II, and, oddly enough, Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha.
We drove out of Memphis, through Little Rock, and ate at the Whataburger in Texarkana:
The drive from Texarkana to Greenville was gorgeous. Meg saw her first armadillo by the side of the road.
Tomorrow, we’ll be Austin, in our new apartment. Unbelievable.
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