J was bugging me yesterday

J was bugging me yesterday about when am I going to update my blog already, ie when am I going to write about HIM already (such a blog hog!). But it looks like things have slowed down enough for a quick scrawl. I know you were hoping for a hilarious expose on the trials of visiting the heartland, but really it was quite pleasant. I only once had to stifle a political outburst (“Hillary Clinton for president? That’ll be the day I head down to Mexico.”) and it was otherwise filled with mashed potatoes, giant televisions, trips to Dairy Queen, and driving around childhood neighborhoods. I did collect some tips for you, though:

Even though taking the bus to the airport is basically free, it is not advisable if it is A) raining, B) a major holiday that sparks a mass exodus out of the city, C) a holiday in which everyone is carrying a huge amount of luggage, D) you need to factor in less than 2 hours travel time to the airport, or D) ALL OF THE FREAKIN’ ABOVE. Although D didn’t turn out to matter because our flight was delayed for two hours. But it was okay, because we didn't have any food and had to drive for two hours once we landed.

Santa Claus lives in a little red plywood house in the middle of Memorial Park in St. Marys, Ohio. He’s a big fan of classic movies and Roy Rogers, but hates the Celina Chamber of Commerce. He once went to visit a little girl who was in a car accident induced coma and when he said, “Santa’s here,” she woke right up and all the local papers called it a miracle. He also goes by Jim.

All the signs in St. Marys, Ohio spell it just like that. “Marys.” Like they’re Latvian. Or perhaps just apostrophe-impaired like some people.

(Doesn’t this just about sum her up? She just needs the matching hat that says, “But I am a racist.”)

But I kid, St. Marys is waaaaay classier than Paris Hilton.

Do not, under any circumstances, go see “National Treasure.” Seriously. Unless you are really into watching a washed out Da Vinci Code with all the art (super super cheesily) replaced by national artifacts. If you were baffled by the backwards handwriting in Dan Brown’s book, or thought that the Pepsi Edge bottle that Mosiac made was totally awesome, “National Treasure” might rock your world.

Geography is edgy!

Do put cream cheese in your mashed potatoes. This is pure heaven.

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