Well folks, I made it to beautiful Provo, Utah. Got an early jump out of Reno at about 7:30 a.m. In typical DR-fashion I popped in Springsteen’s Born to Run and rocked out to “Thunder Road” on my way out of Reno. The last line of the song is my favorite. Bruce says “It’s a town full of losers…and I’m pulling out of here to win” before Max goes crazy on the drums. Great stuff...3:42 in...don't pass this one up.
Ladies of the Night
Its official…I have left Nevada without ever setting foot in a whorehouse. I have always wanted to go…not for any “services”…just to check it out. I could never find anyone to go with me…so here I am…whorehouse-free at 27.
The Drive
Driving through Nevada is exactly how you’d imagine it…shitty. Lots of hills, mountains, sagebrush, and nothing else. Luckily, the speed limit is 75 so you can set the cruise and sit back. Kind of like the Ronco Rotisserie…SET IT, AND FORGET IT!
My first stop of the day was in Valmy, Nevada. I didn’t need gas…just couldn’t hold it anymore. Damn you Vitamin Water! Valmy is an interesting place. If I had to ballpark the population, I’d go with about…6. I stopped at the Shell gas station which also served as the local corner store, bar and grill, RV park, and…oh yes…post office.
From Valmy I continued east on I80 until I hit God’s country…Utah.
From my phone’s voicenotes:
12:02 p.m.
“Wow. FM radio. We’re truly in God’s country…nothing but fucking God rock and country pop bullshit. I’ve settled on 94.1. Listening to “Broken Wings”. Never realized how terrible this song is.”
Reader’s Thoughts
As I entered Utah I sent a text saying “Utah says hello” to many of my blog readers and received several responses. Here are my favorites:
Ukraine: Remember: In Utah, birds have the right of way on any public highway.
The Choz: Fuck that state. You tell them Keith Van Horn was overrated.
Barty: Congrats on making Utah. You should settle there and breed with many wives.
Schu: Sweet. Get some of those nice Mormon ladies drunk and let the party begin.
Noodle: Johnny Utah? Sweet bro!
MDR: Fuck Mormons.
And the winner is…
Big Head: Lunch beers before class say hello.
The Mo’s
Not sure if I hate anyone more than I hate the Mormons. I mean, the Catholics are pretty fucked up…but at least they tip the glass. The “bait” I usually use to “lure” the high school girls into my car (4-pack of Bartles & Jaymes – Strawberry Daiquiri) doesn’t seem to be working out here.
For those of you who are thinking, “Oh…we should just leave them alone…they’re good people”, here is some expanded reading on the crazies:
History of the LDS...see “Early History”
Provo
From my phone’s voicenotes:
5:54 p.m.
“I’ve been cruising around Provo and fucking BYU for about half an hour. No bars, no one smoking cigarettes, and no black people. Fuck Provo!”
6:12 p.m.
“Miraculously getting some Rage on the radio on some random radio station now. You know…for all those angry Mormons.”
The World Revolves Around Me…and My Associates
On Monday I was watching the new episode of the show How I Met Your Mother. The entire episode was based off the classic line from Lethal Weapon..."I'm getting too old for this shit Riggs". The very line that myself, Remmi, and CG were reciting last week…proving, once again, that the world revolves around me.
Other instances of a Dan-centric world:
Last week at lunch I was discussing the song “Brick” by Ben Folds Five with Sooz and CG. What song did we hear only moments later? You know exactly what song.
In October of 2003 I was riding in a car with Cliff from Ames to Iowa City. Randomly, I state, “I would love to hear “Big Balls” by AC/DC" (sorry…no lightning bolt key on my keyboard). What song was on when I changed the radio station? You know exactly what song.
Ojos Azules
“Blue Eyes” by Timmy Curran
“I’d Love You to Want Me” by Lobo
“Blue Eyes” by Elton John
The Drive...Revisited
I’m heading out tomorrow morning en route to Denver. Interstate 15 to Highway 6 to Interstate 70. Unchartered waters for me…hopefully I’ll see some cool shit.
Daily totals: 8 hours driving, 588 miles, 1 ½ tanks of gas, 1 bag of Skittles, 1 corndog, 3 listens to “Poker Face”, 2 Mr. Mister songs ("Kyrie" was the 2nd).
Side Note
Yesterday at dinner a few people told me I should keep my blog posts short because they don’t like reading the long ones. Fuck you. Yeah…you heard me…you know who you are…fuck you. This is my blog. I do what I want.
Anyone else got a problem?
Side, Side Note
Hey Byl!
Posts
Maybe if those High-desert queers didn't spend so much time "at dinner", they could read the long posts.
ReplyDeleteKeep them long.
So I decided to make today an “indoors day”. This is a term coined by DR, and is something we un-employees like to do every once in a while where you don’t step outside for the entire day. Fuck Vitamin A. I clicked on DR’s link to the Wikipedia site for the Church of LDS, began reading. Didn’t take long for me to be sucked in. What really fascinated me was these Golden Plates being the basis for the Mormon religion. Clicked on the side article for Golden Plates to learn more. Here’s a few fun facts for you non-believers:
ReplyDelete-The angel Moroni (not to be confused with the angel Macaroni) told Joe Smith the secrete location where the plates were buried. Joe went there, read, and translated the plates. Later when asked where the plates were, he said pointing to his head “It’s all up here.”
-The plates were written in an ancient Egyptian language so how did Joe Smith translate them so us Joe Six Packs could understand? Rosetta Stone CDs? Night classes at the community college? Well, you don’t need these things when you keep a “seer stone” in your hat to tell you what the words mean! Yes, a fuckin’ seer stone.
-There was a toad-like creature that was in the box that kept the golden plates. The toad would hit Joe when he mishandled the plates.
-Joe Smith was the only one to have ever seen, handled, etc. the plates so all of this is based on his here say. Which leads me to wonder why no one believed me when I said Bonanza S. Jellybean (my cat) told me the word of God was written on the back of a PBJ sandwich, except it was in Flemish, and the only way to translate it was to do a somersault, smoke two marijuana cigarettes, then hit myself over the head with a size 11 boot, at which point I would need to travel throughout the country on a retarded horse named Buttergrits to spread his word.
In conclusion, it must have been great to be a “prophet” in the early 1800’s. Now back to my agoraphobia.
Oh, and it's still a hard time for all Americans.
ReplyDeleteI would just like take a moment to point out that Joseph Smith, Jr. founder of the Mormon church, and his brother Hyrum were assassinated in Carthage, Illinois, by a mob on June 27, 1844. Yet another reason why I love Illinois.
ReplyDeleteJR...you are the last true family man.
ReplyDelete