VD Road Trip, No Penicillin Required

Himself and I will occasionally take a road trip all by our lonesomes, this weekend being one of those occasions.  Plans were made by Himself (the best kind which means zero work for moi) and I found myself at four different quilt shops in North Texas.  Yay!  I also found myself at Dallas Autorama.  Not yay.

Adult roadtrips offer up amazing opportunities to make real-world meaningful observations when your attention isn’t diverted by the task of refereeing people who firmly believe their only purposes in life are to antagonize one another and make gray hairs sprout from the head of their parental unit.  And farting, let’s not forget farting.

For example:

I never noticed that Himself, when listening to Hair Nation on Sirius XM, will accompany the band with his own truly awesome display of air guitar.  Insert the eyeroll here.  It’s doofy in a teenager, disturbing in a forty-three year old.

Big city folks are quite fond of vanity license plates.  I observed an ‘OP2MST’, a ‘FITCHIK’ and a ‘PPD’ which stands for ‘perfect party girl’ according to the window display for her business.  The jury’s still out on whether this means she’s an event planner or an escort.  I’ve decided my vanity plate will read ‘BULSHTR’.  I’m betting the mommies in the pickup line will really love me then.

If the lack of visible Barnes and Noble stores is any indication, no one in the DFW area reads actual books.  Himself says that’s because they’re all rolling in the dough and use Kindles.  He may have a point.

Quilt shows need to take a cue from Autorama and serve booze.  When I ran out of adjectives to describe row after row after row of vintage (and not so vintage) cars, and let’s be honest the only adjectives I had at my disposal were ‘pretty’ and ‘ugly’, I started people watching and on Saturday night, quite a few of them were well on their way to getting schnockered.  It broke up the monotony.  It also kept me from loudly guffawing at the lowriders tricked out in gold-plating and airbrushed portraits of overly endowed nekkid women.  I am, however, thinking of having Tom Selleck airbrushed onto the hood of my mom mobile.

The one thing quilt shows and Autorama do have in common is how close sales tables are set up to one another.  I palmed a complete stranger’s butt without even trying.  Unfortunately, he was elderly and schockered, so neither of us could particularly appreciate the gesture.

Never, ever, EV-ER eat from the Chinese bar at Golden Corral.  Himself and I offer our sincerest apologies to the ladies at Quilt Asylum.  Don’t ask.

Highbrow hotel restaurants are perfect places for rednecks like us to sit back and poke fun at the human peacocks doing their best to be chi-chi and so-fis-ti-cayted.  It also offers up proof that you can utterly F.U.B.A.R. a hamburger.  Lemon aioli and kimchi?  I thought an aioli was someone who cut you off in traffic and Kimchi was the hip-hop fashionista who was married to Russell Simmons.  Learn something new every day.

And last, but not least, these little trips prove that I, Miss Organized, am human.  Forgetting earplugs to drown out Himself’s snoring means sleeping in the hotel bathtub.

It’s now back to reality and the land of The Co-Defendants.  Let the farting commence!






  1. I an envious. I would like to go to the car show – especially if there is booze! Why are there no pictures of fabric or cars? And I realize I am sounding bitchy so I am shutting up. Sorry about that. I am glad you got away and had a sort of good time.

  2. You were at Quilt Asylum? If you tell me that you went to Stitched With Love, which is at most four miles from our house, and didn’t call, you get a great big demerit from me!

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