The rest of my Savannah trip told mostly in photo’s

I just ate an entire bag of edamame while laying in bed watching Netflix. That’s better than potato chips or ice cream, right?

I’m wearing my favorite green sweatshirt. I found it for $3 at a good will store two years ago and felt that it had good karmic energy. That same day, I picked up a homeless man and brought him back to his shelter to promote more good karma. It didn’t work, however. I ended up getting lost for three hours in the rough and tumble streets of Wallingford Connecticut after dropping the guy off at his shelter. You know how the saying goes, “No good deed goes unpunished” or something like that.

Anyway, I wanted to finish telling you about Savannah, but the day’s are all clouded together. I’m fully dependant on the picture’s I taken to spark my memory. I left off with the photograph of me and Steph in bed together. This is the next pic in my camera roll;

Holly likes to mimic statue’s. I like to mimic stupid people giving the thumbs up.

Us four wild and crazy girls get our picture taken with a random, friendly stranger (far left). It was very dangerous.

We taken a ride on a ferry which was also dangerous because they didn’t provide any life jacket’s.

We ate at a fancy restaurant and learned about Steph’s strong dislike for onions.

Steph say’s she looks evil in this pic.

Then, according to the order of my pictures, this is when we had to keep waiting for the bus to come get us.

I got bored and started listening to Pandora radio on my iPhone, dancing like a loon and taking picture’s of myself in the street.

We hop on a bus, visit a park, and then wait to hop on another bus to pick us up. I tried to entertain myself with palm tree’s.

I need to start wearing protective gear when I go places.

I don’t recall what else we did that day. Maybe the haunted pub crawl? Yes! We went on the haunted pub crawl that day and to spice things up a bit, I wanted to get high for it.

The premise for this tour was to walk from haunted bar to haunted bar, drinking beer and listening to ghost stories. At each bar, I vowed to take at least one hit off my joint. I don’t normally smoke pot – never, actually. I’m not accustomed to it’s effects on me. I became completely stoned. I was the only one smoking.

We were at one of the pubs listening to our tour guide telling us a scary story when Stephanie secretly and stealthily taps my opposite shoulder wanting me to believe there was a ghost behind me. I knew that if I looked at her, her face would look frozen and transfixed to the tour guide, pretending like she didn’t do anything. Just the thought of the look on her face brought on the giggles. I giggled for three minutes before having the courage to look over at her and when I did, sure enough it was the face I pictured her having; a straight poker face, intensely focused on the speaker. And that’s when I exploded with laughter. I felt horrible and embarrassed, but I couldn’t help it. The poor guy was trying to tell a story of people getting beaten to death, and there I was laughing like a buffoon because someone tapped me on the shoulder.

Steph – “What? What is it?” She whispered.

I laughed even harder.

Mind over matter, I finally regained composure after what seemed like a brutal half hour of uncontrollable giggles. Don’t forget that I was drowning in beer too, during all this.

I don’t condone pot.

After the pub crawl, we get pizza at this awesome outdoor pizza place. I take a bunch of picture’s of Holly because I thought I was a professional photographer at the time. I love telling people how to pose for me – even when I’m not stoned.

The next day we wake up for yet another fabulously fantastic day of bountiful beauty in the historic richness of Savannah.

Holly is REALLY nosey.

See what I mean?

This is where Forest Gump sat on a bench. The bench was just a prop.

I’m so happy I got to see a crazy old coot shouting out protest’s and holding up a sign that was written in gibberish.

We went on a food tour and ate chocolate, BBQ pork, shrimp and grits, bread pudding, and for me, well, I had a big, overflowing cup of cream corn at Lady and Son’s. Lady and Son’s is the most popular tourist restaurant in Savannah because it’s owned by Paula Deen. Paula Deen is apparently a huge deal down there. I still don’t exactly know who she is. I keep calling her Norma Deen.

Me – “Excuse me, but do you put gravy on grit’s?”

We were allowed to fill a cup with only one item off the buffet (because this was part of the tour).

Lady attending buffet – “Well now I don’t personally do that, but those aren’t grits. That’s creamed corn.”

I looked down and seen my cup was totally filled to the brim with creamed corn.

Me – “Ohhh, ok. Cool, thanks.”

After the tour, we chill outside near the water drinking booze.

I like to give powerful and dramatic poses for the camera.

Holly got a little something on her pants.

But she didn’t care. She seemed proud of her wet butt.

We went inside a bar that was advertising happy hour drink prices. A pretty bartender served us and made Holly a special drink just for her called the Holly Berry.

It’s just as well because the whole trip has been about Holly anyway. Holly this, Holly that – It’s always about Holly!!

(Btw Holly, I think it was key lime, absolute vanilla, lime juice, pineapple juice and simple syrup.)

We go back to Paula Deen’s restaurant, Lady and Son’s, for dinner. I got high again before reaching the restaurant. Whenever I get high, it seems like everyone else is high with me. When people talk, I notice that their words don’t match with how they’re feeling, or that what they are saying has nothing to do with the present subject. They sound silly and don’t make much sense to me even though I’m the one stoned, not them. So I sat there during dinner, tried not to talk much and just listened to my friends conversing with each other. I sat there trying to make sense of things. When I get stoned, I REALLY get stoned.

We go back to our hotel after another long, but glorious day and I eat some cricket’s.

I thought it would be a funny blog post if I taken picture’s of me eating them.

Is it funny? I don’t know. I think I grossed out my friends, but I don’t care. I’m like the coolest person I know because of the stuff I do.

Okay, I’m done. I have to sleep.

A little more about my trip to Savannah

Image via Wikipedia

I’m going to try again to write about Savannah even though it’s midnight and normal people are getting ready for bed.

After the 23 hour car ride, we arrived at our hotel to check in.

My feet smelled like some dreadful creature crawed out of a Tim Burton movie, made a nest out of stink weed and then died in my sneaker.  They’re cloth running sneaker’s that gotten wet and been on my feet for 23 hours.  By the end of the car ride, the smell started to seep out of my sneaker’s and into the car while it’s windows rolled up.  I didn’t know what the smell was and blamed in on something outside, but it was me.  I’m almost positive it was me.

We were staying at the Inn on Ellis square in the heart of Savannah, walking distance from everything we could possible need.  The outside was cute, the inside, fancy and clean.  We walk inside our room and was a little disappointed to see two double beds.  A double bed aint that big.

Okay, I’m just going to say it and I’m sorry for saying it, but I have gotten not one good nights sleep the entire time I was in Savannah.  I woke up at 5 or 6 in the morning on the first night, sleeping on my back with my head resting against Stephanie’s who was snoring so loudly that my pillow shook.  The walls of our room billowed like a cartoon.

At that point, I haven’t slept for over 24 hours and was a little, to put it politely, miffed.  Not at Steph, she couldn’t help it, but just that the trip so far was so disastrous that it was enough to piss off the Pope.  And there I was lying awake in bed not being able to sleep it off.  Sleep is my cure for everything.  And I couldn’t even do it.

I’m normally a hard person to wake up.  People have trouble physically shaking me awake (they tried and failed).  Steph and I partook in countless sleepover’s when we were kids.  I slept through her snores before, but our heads were never leaning up against each other.  And each night, coming back to the hotel from an exciting day of gallivanting around town, I would think to myself, “I’m so freaking tired I’m probably going to sleep through it tonight,”  but each night I would wake up either by her snoring, or by being nudged – it was bad.  Not as bad as prison or boot camp, but it still sucked.

And she was the only one with ear plugs!  Industrial strength earplugs that her husband got her from his job.

So anyway, we wake up in the morning, I don’t know what time it was, we shower, eat the continental breakfast downstairs in the lobby and speak with the concierge about a tour.

Holly booked us a tour on a tour bus and needed to find out the details of where it was picking us up.

I thought it would’ve been easier to not book anything online and to do everything there in Savannah.  I was worried that the online booking thing was a scam.  I still think it was a scam because the online booking people never gave us our tickets!

While Holly was figuring out the ticket fiasco, Steph, Tara and I were outside the hotel being approached by the continental breakfast chef.  He was wearing three heavy jacket’s in 80 degree weather.  He was super nice.  A little slow, but nice to offer his services to us.

Chef – “You liked the biscuits and gravy?  I make it fresh each day.  I can give you the recipe.”

Me – “Oh, no that’s okay.  I wouldn’t be able to remember it.”

Chef – “Well, I can come over your house and make it for you.”  He say’s with a big southern grin.  He was sweet.

Holly comes stomping out of the hotel looking  pissed.  I take a picture of her but I’m not allowed to post it on my blog.  She cheers up quickly enough when a white bus picks us up to drive us to another bus to pick us up.

It was our tour bus at last.

I taken a lot of pictures with my coolpix, but I’m not about to post them all here.  Making a picture college on WordPress sucks the life out of me – it’s so frustrating!  You’re just going to have to view them on Flickr if you want to see them that badly.

The day was beautiful, we were in an old historic town (the biggest historic district in the US), and we were healthy and happy – what more can you ask for?  I was beginning to perk up even though I was going on 48 hours of no sleep.  All I need to survive in this world is one drop of dew and the energy of the universe.  I taken that from Kung Fu Panda, but it undoubtedly applies to me as well.

We get off the tour bus near a harbor that had a bunch of shops, bar’s, and restaurants along the water.

And we ate at a seafood restaurant that served the best tasting grouper I ever had in my life.

That’s Holly and her sister, Tara.  I told Holly to smile bigger, and I snapped another photo.

She looks the same.  Smiling a little less, actually.

Then I told Steph to take a picture of my hands because I never seen them look so pretty.

I forgot what else we did that day.  I only remember from the picture’s I taken.  The next picture was taken with me and Steph in bed.

We were all exhausted and not looking our best, but for some reason, I looked great.  So I taken more of me.

 Okay, I’ll continue discussing our trip.  You are here to read about my trip, not ogle picture’s of me.  But here’s one more.

I think I’m going to watch a movie, actually.  I started this post last night and wanted to finish it today after work, but I’m feeling lazy.

I’ll write more (hopefully the rest) of the trip tomorrow.  Or maybe later on tonight after my movie.

Peace out Y’all.

Driving to Savannah, Georgia

I should write about Savannah.  It’s already starting to fade into the dense thick jungle of my memory.  The monkey in my brain is scratching it’s head, eating a banana and wondering where he put the Savannah file.

Poor Stephanie is already back at her job working as if nothing happened.  She’s making status updates of how dreary the day is and how much it sucks to be back to reality.

For me, the vacation was like an ice cream sandwich.  Ice cream wedged between two slices of southern deep-fried crap.  But the ice cream was good.

The first slice of crap was served to us on the car ride there.  We left Cheshire at six in the morning on Saturday and arrived at our destination 23 hours and 10 bathroom breaks later.  Ten of those 23 hours were spent in bumper to bumper traffic.  I’m so happy none of us had our period.

My Mother called me every hour because she was scared we might run into tornado’s.  When she called, she would give me the latest weather update’s in states that I wasn’t even near.  I was annoyed, but my friends wanted me to put her on speaker so they could hear her talk about the group of tornado’s following our car.

Me – “What do you want me to do if I run into a tornado?  Call you while I’m spinning around in mid-air?”

I was beyond tired, but couldn’t fall asleep.  I was anxiously content, if that makes any sense.  I was jumpy.  Easily rattled at that point.  But still happy I was out of my house for a week.

We ran into tornado traffic.  We left the day after a bunch of tornado’s ripped through the Carolina’s.  We drove past a house split in two with it’s owner outside just staring at the wreckage.  It wasn’t a fabulous house to begin with, but still.  It was one of those highway houses.  A sporadically placed home surrounded by nothing, built to face the highway like it was a gas station welcoming car’s at it’s door.

Whenever we drove by one of these houses, I would think about a family driving down the highway and running out of gas.  The Dad announces, “Well, this is it kids.  The end of the line.  Everybody out and let’s make us a home cause we aint goin’ any further.”

That’s not too far from the truth.  Gas prices are up to $4.07 in some places.

I didn’t want to drive because it was Tara’s new car and I wasn’t sure on how much of a backseat driver she was, or how nervous she would be in entrusting me with the keys.  So I sat quietly trying not to drudge up the fact that I wasn’t offering my services.

Eventually I had to bone up.  We were approaching two or three in the morning and we were all tired.  I started reading highway billboard signs without fully understanding their meaning’s.

“Vet’s for pet’s?  Why would anyone want to keep a vet for a pet?  Is it backwards world?”  The sign was for veterinarians attending to your pets, but I couldn’t wrap my head around that concept.  That’s when I got asked to drive.

I plugged my headphones into my iPhone and listened to golden oldies on Pandora radio the whole time I drove.  I Belted out old song’s to keep me focused.  It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  I bought myself a pepsi and drank just enough to keep me awake, but not enough where I would have to pee.  It was a delicate balance.

I don’t know what else to write about the road trip there.  It feels like forever ago and all the fun stuff that happened after, smeared away the deep fried crap portion of the trip.

I’m tired, I have to sleep.  I’ll try to write about the rest of the trip tomorrow.