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Put the hooker in the box, and the bird in the closet.

Laughing Gull Mating Plumage

No, wait. I think Charlie Sheen said ‘Put the hooker in the closet‘.

Ok, then the bird should go in the box. Got it. Good thing, too, since the closet is quiet full of my clothes and skeletons.

A closet full of clothes and skeletons.

There's hardly enough room for the skeletons, let alone hookers.

As many of you may know, I have a penchant for rescuing wounded things. Birds. Mammals. Men. One might assume that while driving around the country I would not have as much opportunity for rescuing wounded beings.

Sadly, no. Like moths to a flame, they seem to find me wherever I am on the planet. 

They may leave for a brief period to temp the fate of being eaten by a hawk or to join the circus. And when I say one left to join the circus, believe it or not I am NOT referring to one of the rescued animals. One now-ex-boyfriend actually left for a brief period with the intention of joining the circus.

!!!

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

Don’t stop now! Continue reading Put the hooker in the box, and the bird in the closet.

From the Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge to the Bridge to Nowhere, and shaking your dates in between.

The Bridge to Nowhere. Or is it really "The Bridge to Now Here"?

The Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge was the only way to go coast to coast back in the day.

The Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge has spanned the Colorado River in Yuma, Arizona since 1915. If you were heading from coast to coast at that time, the Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge was the only place to cross the river, and it meant going miles out of your way to do so.

Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge in Yuma, Arizona

It lights up at night. You'll have to take my word for it because this picture is as good as it gets on this blog.

And that, my dear Kernutties, is your history lesson for the day. Never say I didn’t teach you anything. Notice I didn’t say “important”. Useless trivia is my specialty.

Shake Your Dates

Since my first trip to Slab City, California this past winter, all I heard was that I had to have a date shake.

“What’s a ‘date shake”‘, I asked. “Is that a shake you share with a date? What if I don’t have a date, can I get one on the side?”

*rimshot*

Yeah, I know. Sometimes I’m the only one laughing.

It comes with ice cream. Ok, good enough!

There are Don’t stop now! Continue reading From the Ocean-to-Ocean Bridge to the Bridge to Nowhere, and shaking your dates in between.

The Center of the World, and two blondes in Mexico.

For the first time in my adventures, I’m about to tell you of an “attraction” I will never again go to. Nope, it’s not Mexico.

Not far from the border of Mexico, is the small town of Felicity, California, the self-proclaimed “Center of the World”.

The Center of the World?

The Center of the World?

After a long road trip to get there, my rig/house guest (who has long since returned to their day job) went in and asked to use the bathroom only to be told by the non-too-pleasant greeter it would cost three dollars. The owner, with whom I had a separate conversation, quoted me five dollars – with a similarly unfriendly demeanor. Our experience was unpleasant, to say the least.

Skip this “attraction” – we did. My poor friend really had to pee, but we felt it wasn’t worth prolonging and compounding the bad experience we’d already been given by being charged for it.

All you need to know is EVERYWHERE is the true Center of the World. Wherever you are at any given moment, even right now while reading this post, you are on the center of the world.

Two Blondes in Mexico

Don’t stop now! Continue reading The Center of the World, and two blondes in Mexico.

We Say 'Dude' In These Here Parts

There's a magazine about this?

I’m fascinated by linguistics, especially the colloquialisms specific to a certain region. We all have them, and those little words can give an indication of where you grew up, or lived for many years.

Also when you grew up.

A friend is visiting from Minnesota. He’s never been to California so I’m showing him the sights. The other day I used the word ‘dude’ when relaying some meaningless important story to him.

Yes, maybe I’m a hopelessly outdated Californian, but that’s not the point.

He’s been here three weeks and I’m the first person who’s said ‘dude’ to him. WTF? Don’t stop now! Continue reading We Say ‘Dude’ In These Here Parts