The trip started and ended going through the lines of trepidation and mystery. That being airport security, where I was really ready to impress TSA officials with my massive glutes and hung like a horse attributes.
Unfortunately, no one got a gander at my favorite Speedos with my strategically placed love button. Take that TSA, bitches!
The better part of my trip was spent eating way too much and as much as I'd like to show you pictures of the seventeen times that the table was stocked with enough food to have prevented the Great Depression three times over, and had leftovers for the entire country of Ethiopia, but I failed to remember to pick up the camera in between diabetic comas. Rest assured though, the three trips to the outdoor plumbing facilities to vomit caused from eating 8.3 times the weight of Jerrod the Subway guy, pre diet, multiplied by 4.7387 Kirstie Alley's body mass on Jupiter's surface, is an ingrained memory that I'd be willing to share with you at any time. Just send me an IM and I'll get an e-mail out to you detailing my gut wrenching experiences.
That's how awesome I am!
PSA - During the making of this Thanksgiving there were no living creature harmed in any way, what so ever...except for three turkeys, two hams, Bambi, what I think was platypus, an acre of Idaho spuds, some green goulash stuff that I'm pretty sure once breathed, and my brothers leather loafers after I upchucked on them.
We played card games, but beings it was my Mormon family, there wasn't a lick of alcohol nor bras being tossed, but what was learned was that is that my step mother can toss out a swear word that would make a truck driver question whether he was man enough to drive cross country or better suited driving around the neighborhood in an ice cream truck.
|BCS Selection Committee Choosing Device|
Needless to say, those sort of actions
The final day there a snow storm rolled in. Brilliant! Since the next day the son and I had to make the long trek across the desert from Mtn. Home to Boise to hop a flight what better way to do it than with my uncle who is an ex-USAF fighter pilot. The guy, during his stint with the military could shoot down enemy MIG's, land on an aircraft carrier off the coast of Paraguay and fly through the eye of a hurricane over Bermuda, all before his morning paper arrived. What I found out that he couldn't do while driving on an icy I-84 was carry on a conversation while drinking his coffee, putting on his poloroid shades, picking his teeth, and pointing out herds of elk that had come down out of the hills and probably were going to be road kill by the time he came back around, which he'd discreetly toss in the back of his pick-up and cook up over an open flame later that evening.
The guy scared the crap out of me, which after the ninety-three pounds of food consumed over the four days, was not exactly the prettiest of sights!