the three most irritating words in the english language, or at least, with regards to my weekend festivities, the three most irritating words in the english language at midnight when you’re aimlessly driving around northern massachusetts heading vaguely in the direction of new hampshire where the only concrete knowledge of what town you’re aiming for is ‘somewhere in the vicinity of methuen’
yeah…
in the grand tradition of Impromptu Road Trips — which always occur with my favorite biatch, scooter — we planned to get dinner at the fine dining establishment of ultimate swank: kentucky fried taco (the KFC/taco bell mutate up past porter square) and rent drumline for an evening of culinary excellence and film magnificence. fuck yeah. and of course, the most amusing part was the little epitaphs on our “fire” hot sauce packets at the KFbell…with such amusing bits of sparkingly wit as “I M A HOT T. R U 2?” awesome, right? fucking LAWESOME. heh. anyway, we head down the street and pick up drumline, which, if you haven’t seen, you really should. i’m the best drummer you got!!!!! but somewhere over the course of dinner/movie we decided ‘hey, wanna go to target?’ cuz scooter needed a new purse. ok, cool. i love target.
those fuckers at target. ‘attention shoppers, target will be closing in 5 minutes.’ what the fuck? it was barely even like 10! bastards. so of course, what did we decide to do? ‘hey, let’s go home and watch drumline’? hell no, ‘let’s go to the super wal-mart in new hampshire!’ heh. we’re bloody fucking brilliant, you know that? fuckin’ geniuses.
our absolute brilliance is further recognized by the fact that we had no effin’ clue which town the super-wal mart of our last road trip was at. all we remembered was ‘somewhere near methuen, ma.’ and after scouring various road maps we hopped in the car, high on road trip possibilities and fake-taco preservatives. good times.
of course, the problem with voyaging out into the great beyond when you have no fucking clue where you’re going, and all the shops in the podunk border towns are closed because it’s well-past midnight at this point is…you get lost. horribly, unbelievably lost. especially when you have the super-fucked road signs and whatnot of massachussets to deal with, i mean, god forbid they ever label an exit correctly, so you don’t, you know…MISS YOUR FUCKING TURN COMPLETELY! ::ahem:: i mean, our long and arduous journey of roughly 40 miles somehow managed to take us over two hours, during which we saw the ‘welcome to methuen’ sign more time than any one person should ever have to endure. fuck a methuen, yo.
ah, wal-mart…how i both loathe thee, and am moderately intrigued by your hideously ugly clothes and enraptured by your dance mix music stations and dollar dvds. we must’ve been there forever running around in ugly grama hats and dancing in the isles, also scaring the public. heh, i love the public ;) all i know is when we finally disembarked from the ever-elusive salem, NH (yes, fucking salem! and we forgot that?!?!) and returned to medford it was damn near 4 am.
the next bright course of action: watch drumline. of course.
the next day saw a great bacon hunt, a sojourn to the ghetto mall of medford and me returning to my dorm damn near 24 hours after leaving for ‘a quick bite and a movie.’ fucking awesome. and with just enough time to shower, change, try out my spiffy new winter tights and get all kinds of pirate deluxe, and schlep over to the lizard lounge to see the cello chix. and of course, as per usual, they rocked out. even more fabulously, the boy suprised me by actually showing up there (not that he ever blows me off, anyway) and such. then we all headed to heather’s place for games and relaxation.
after, return to pfoho and return of the jetta! YAY!!!!!!!! note: jetta should not leave ever again, pants are lost, tea becomes heroin, and all hope is lost.
and that, boys and girls, is my weekend. however, since it’s a balmy, sub-tropic 35 degrees out today, i think i’m going to frolick out for some topless sunbathing! hawtt!!
::smooches::
welcome to Methuen, BIATCH!