Zombies, RV Life, and Random Craziness
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By Kernut, on February 1st, 2012%
 The scene: An empty two-lane highway at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday night.
My car: The nice tow car previously pictured, carrying two blond-haired white people (me and the aforementioned house guest) slowly driving back to their campsite in Slab City after a day at the nearby RV park pool, hanging with sober people. (The sober part will be of significance further in the story.)
Behind us: A car is tailgating. For almost 15 minutes.
They could easily go around us on the empty highway.
A couple extra white lights come on over their roof. Then the side spotlight as seen on cop cars comes out. Within seconds a red light comes on, so I pull over.
Two dimwitted Border Patrol agents creep up on the right side, stop about ten feet away, and peer towards the interior of the car, fear and suspicion on their face. Don’t stop now! Continue reading Border Patrol = Reno 911
By Kernut, on January 22nd, 2012%
 This post is a mish-mash of the highlights from the beginning of my new year, much of which seems like an episode of the Twilight Zone.
I’m not able to post as frequently as I’d like since I’m on the road in remote locations. My internet is spotty and electrical hookups aren’t always available. That’s what boondocking is like. And you all know how I feel about the boondocking.
Ladies and Gentlemen, next stop The Twilight Zone…
 Caution: Reality Ahead (but it only *looks* like reality) A house guest, I have one.
For a few weeks. Holy Shatner! I can’t believe it, either. This one seems to be a very good one. One who cleans up, and helps around the rig with BBQs and hooking up the new toad. We are heading toward Arizona for a couple weeks before my house guest returns to their home state. [The name of said house guest is withheld to protect their reputation (notice I didn't say 'to protect the innocent') because associating with me might, well, you know, not be good for someone's reputation. Besides, we're still trying to decide who is the Gypsy and who is the Tramp.] Don’t stop now! Continue reading Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves. Allegedly.
By Kernut, on October 23rd, 2010%
I was immediately pulled over by the cops. Normally, a short skirt and long blond hair are enough to get you out of trouble in L.A. It helps if you’re also a celebrity or able to make a large “donation” to the police department. They didn’t even give me a chance to run over a stop sign or drive crooked. Mighty unfair of them. . . . → Read More: I Break Out in Handcuffs When I Drink Alcohol
By Kernut, on June 12th, 2010%
 This should totally be mine. The Earl of Socks, and other relatives
Rumor has it my family is related to a bunch few famous people. Most of whom you’ve probably never heard of.
Ted McGinley, the cute actor. One of his more well-known roles was as Jefferson Darcy on ‘Married with Children’. Yes, that guy! He really does look like the male members of my father’s side of the family. My aunt knows the details, but we’re distant cousins or something… which is too bad because otherwise he just might have made my last list.
On my mother’s side, we’re related to Bertrand Russell, 3rd Earl Russell, a philosopher, mathematician, humanitarian, and Nobel Prize winner. (Apparently, the “smarts” aren’t necessarily hereditary, otherwise I’d be famous rather than infamous.) We’re related through the Duke of Bedford. By all accounts a nice guy, but it seems Bertrand’s life was a bit of an emotional roller coaster at times. Here’s a quote from his biography: Don’t stop now! Continue reading The Earl of Argyll Socks, and Other Relatives
By Kernut, on May 1st, 2010%
Me, to the bartender, “I’d like a carafe of Margaritas, salt the rim of the carafe, and stick a straw in it.” . . . → Read More: 18 With A Fake ID
By Kernut, on April 28th, 2010%
I learned to mix drinks, quite well actually, and we all had a grand time drinking up the liquor cabinet after school. When the booze would run low, Dad would just replace it. Awesome. *hiccup* . . . → Read More: Drinking and Smoking: My Childhood Memories
By Kernut, on April 8th, 2010%
Have you ever been to a brothel? Of course you have! Well I have, too. Three, actually. All on the same day. I’m a studdette like that. . . . → Read More: Sex in Carson City: My Trip to The Brothels – UPDATE
By Kernut, on April 2nd, 2010%
 The Rispin Mansion, Capitola, CA. Front entry way. The Time Penny Was Attacked by The Killer Bees
When I was a delinquent young teenager in Capitola, I had some friends with whom I regularly got into trouble had adventures. (See: My First Brush With The Law). One of the places we would regularly go to find trouble was the colloquially named ‘monastery’, formally know as The Rispin Mansion.
(Side note: If you view the more recent photos, note we did NOT spray paint the place, or destroy the statues, and were quick to lecture those who did. We loved that place. I would like to see it restored but it’s going to be torn down and turned into a Bed & Breakfast or something.)
The monestary/Rispin Mansion was once a beautiful mansion built in 1922 by a wealthy man, reported to have transported liquor during the Prohibition.
It seemed only fitting we should go there to drink illegally.
The place once had beautiful parquet floors and statues. It still had secret hidden rooms, and a sliding bookcase. People, I couldn’t make this shit up – I’m not that imaginative. IT WAS AWESOME!
The place was abandoned around 1958, and it’s considered trespassing to be on the grounds.
Yet another good reason for us to go there. Regularly. Don’t stop now! Continue reading Penny and The Attack of The Killer Bees
By Kernut, on March 29th, 2010%
 The Four Seasons Golf Resort - probably not the one we were at. Golf Carts Don’t Float, But Golf Tees Do – Who Knew?!
For a little while after my parents got divorced my father stayed in the general Santa Barbara, CA area. My sister, Chickenbone, and I would spend weekends and long summers with him where we would learn all kinds of grown-up things (much against my mother’s wishes) like playing poker, driving before we were even in our teens, and eating junk food all day long.
My father raised us very differently than my mother: My mother was a fairly strict and conservative parent who raised us on health food, while my father pretty much let us do absolutely anything we wanted. (See My First Brush With The Law for an example.)
And he would often help us cover up the crime.
We were too young to be legally left alone (not because we couldn’t take care of ourselves, but more likely we’d have burnt down the house). But my father liked playing golf, so he had to bring us along.
Just imagine two independent, but restrained-9-months-out-of-the year-then-suddenly-unleashed kids running amok on the golf course. Don’t stop now! Continue reading The Time I Learned Golf Carts Don’t Float
By Kernut, on March 25th, 2010%
It was a match made in heaven: Three gals, three guys, a wee party, and an illegal bonfire. . . . → Read More: My First Brush With The Law
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