June 22nd, 2012

krazy koati

With no particular place to go

[ Posted using the Livejournal post-at-a-scheduled-date thingy. Also, posted without the trimming down to 700 words because I do not have the time to deal with that today. Also I don't remember the proper code for livejournal cuts so I'll fit that in later on in an edit. ]

There's nothing for a long car trip quite like keeping a log, since it serves as a clear warning against trying such a thing again. New technologies employing cell phone technologies allow one to do away with old-fashioned problems like map-reading, staring at traffic signs with messages like ``Carble Jaxnor 14 mi Except Single Taxpluppiess Married Jointly 4-7:30 am''. Now you can just take your satellite navigator and rub it against the north-facing or ``moss'' side of a tree and find that they got rid of moss as part of federal cutbacks in during the Reagan Recession. Here's excerpts from my big road trip this week.

  • 8:04 am. Mileage: 0. Set courageously out from the old home.
  • 8:07 am. Mileage: 0.2. Return courageously because I left the journal at home.
  • 8:08 am. Mileage: 0.2. Set courageously out from the old home and immediately stop with nostalgic sighing over spotting an adorable baby chipmunk running back and forth under a parked car.
  • 8:10 am. Mileage: 0.2. Set courageously out from the old home when the chipmunk has enough and starts kicking my tire.
  • 8:21 am. Mileage: 5.3. Return ostentatiously to library because I did have this one last book out, sorry about that.
  • 8:22 am. Mileage: 5.3. Wait lugubriously for library to open because it doesn't seem right to not even tell the librarians why I won't be around.
  • 8:27 am. Mileage: 5.3. Librarians awaredly inform me they don't really know who I am and can now leave. Total overdue book charge: $1.05.
  • 8:36 am. Mileage: 9.6. Automatic car wash ergonomically earns me the next wash free.
  • 8:45 am. Mileage: 10.2. Salubriously stocking up on supplies against father's warning that there's nothing to eat on I-80 in Pennsylvania, and this whole ``Pennsylvania'' thing is a pretty sketchy concept too. Picked up from the supermarket are: 12-pack diet ginger ale; apples (2); enchanted apples (1) in case of fairy princesses or toads (make that ``apple''); stubby vanilla wafer crackers (30-35) in case I need the taste of vanilla without needing to feel parched; food supply (8 pounds); elk (just a semi-vocal ejaculation after almost running directly into a pack of shopping-cart-wielding eight-year-olds); free coupon for $10 off my next purchase here for being a loyal customer.
  • 8:47 am. Mileage: 10.3. Updatedly set out again.
  • 8:53 am. Mileage: 12.5. Back neoterically home to go to the bathroom, snifflingly interrupt parents dancing with neighbors, cats, TV remotes, one another.
  • 8:56 am. Mileage: 12.5. Healingly apply liquid skin to where the cats scratched.
  • 8:58 am. Mileage: 12.9. Hesitatingly set out again only to be stopped by the gate attendant who wants to know why I came in and went out right away with the back of my car full of stuff. Allows me to leave in exchange for a half-bag of stuff, one oxen, two wagon axles.
  • 9:12 am. Mileage: 16.5. Littorally merge onto US 9 North heading for my new home.
  • 9:14 am. Mileage: 17.3. First historically traffic jam of the day.
  • 9:23 am. Mileage: 17.5. Turn memorably off onto back roads to evade traffic jam.
  • 9:41 am. Mileage: 21.3. Jejunedly discover previously unsuspected portions of Lesser Squankum Pines Park. Phone service nonexistent. Car sinking slowly into bayou swamp. Trailer eaten by crocodiles who retreat to digest, thus justifying purchase of decoy trailer. Note made that my father will be able to say ``told you so''.
  • 9:49 am. Mileage: 22.1. Signal flare moisturizingly answered by units of the Barnegat Lighthouse shore rescue service. Scion towed to port off Asbury Park somehow, set up for tourists to witness at 25 cents a crack (35 cents to hop on the hood, 45 cents to lounge across the moon roof).
  • 10:04 am. Mileage: 23.2. Tourist trade jocosely turning out pretty well; submit applications for basic casino games to the regulatory agencies.
  • 10:14 am. Mileage: 23.3. Tide noctilucently going out. Regulatory agencies have as a result of understandable typographical errors rejected the placing of power-generating nuclear power stations at lottery booths. Doesn't seem to involve me at all.
  • 10:22 am. Mileage: 23.4. Tide unabashedly out. Well-meaning onlookers push the car off the beach and back into the waves, where it frolics with a pod of dolphins who thought this was Nantucket or something.
  • 10:23 am. Mileage: 24.8. Egressedly pick up the Garden State Parkway outside the Frolicking Dolphins toll plaza. Drop immediately as too heavy, hot in the sunlight.
  • 10:44 am. Mileage: 35.0. Return faineantly to old home and hide between the mattress and that thing that's under the mattress that looks like another mattress but isn't and somehow it's needed anyway.

Pictures to irenically follow.

Trivia: ``Grasshopper Jim'' Whitney, pitching for Boston in the 1880s, would routinely throw overhand, despite the rules of baseball prohibiting it, and trusting the umpires would not dare call him on it. Source: Fifty-Nine In '84, Edward Achorn.

Currently Reading: Love Conquers All, Robert Benchley.