Sippin On Coke and Rum, I'm Like So What I'm Drunk, Its The Freakin Weekend Baby I'm About to Have Me Some Butt

So we packed a U-Haul and left for home on Monday morning. It took us a while and there were some detours, but we eventually got on the road. Katie took a nap in the middle of Wisconsin and virtually right after that moment, we stopped. Thats right. We stopped, in the middle of the highway, for approximately two hours. When we eventually got driving again it appeared that a truck had careened off a bridge, on the other fucking side of the road. Why that stopped 94 traffic in the afternoon going the other way made little sense to me, but whatev. Besides that moment we made great time. We spent our honeymoon night, from about 1:00 am until the next morning, in the lovely room 314 of the South Bend, Indiana Super 8. Nothing's too good for my wife, I tell you.

You might ask, whats so special about room 314 of the South Bend, Indiana Super 8? Nothing, I would tell you, but that wouldn't be the end of the story. Because when you stay at the Super 8 you don't need the presidential suite to enjoy yourself. Its the Super 8 motherfucker, thats like 2 more than the Motel 6. Think of the finest hotels in the world,. the Ritz-Carlton, Georges V in Paris, the AmericInn in Apple Valley. They don't even have a numberal in their name, except for George V, which does have a numeral in its name, but its fucking Roman. You know what kind of ammenities Roman motels had, fucking vomintoriums and thats about it. They should just make that their ad, want to purge, come to the George V. As I figure it that means the Super 8 is to hotels as the manta ray is to large flat fish, the king of them bastards.

Anyway, the rest of the drive was largely uneventful. We had some continental breakfast, some lunch at Jody Maroney's Sausage Kingdom, some chocolate covered almonds. We got home late and I had to be at work the next morning. Basically we brought only the bare ass minimum from the trailer and Katie did almost the entirety of the work over the next two days that I was at work. I brought up a couple of the really heavy and awkward shit, but since a majority of things were fairly small and light, she really deserves the credit. She also unpacked and organized the whole fucking apartment, most notably the kitchen. We got a bunch of new shelving, accomodating our growing alcohol collection, we put together our wine rack, which is really pretty cool. We have another table, Katie's beloved console table, which sits behind the couch in an almost entirely useless fashion. I mean, Katie loves it, and I get to feel like I'm on a sitcom when I come home from work and set my keys on it, but besides that its a little weird.

The coolest thing about the console table is the picture on it, which I manufactured with a bootlegged version of Photoshop. Its a beautiful close-up picture of Katie with her bouquet. I desaturated (removed the color) from everything except the flowers and it looks really fucking cool, like a non-saddening or depressing or genocidally related girl at the end of Schindler's List. Bad analogy, but it looks fucking cool. I have it on my computer, maybe at some point I will find a way to put pictures online. If I do, I will let you know. We put it in this really cool frame that someone gave us for the wedding that is all glassy and curvy, really styling. We have a whole fuckload of picture frames and knick knacks now, sitting on shelves and desks. We have some cool vases, which Katie got me some very cool rocks and marbles for. I really dig the set up of the whole place now, especially the kitchen, which somehow has been arranged to accomodate an entire new kitchen's worth of shitty.

Last week I began work on my obsession with chocolate martinis. Katie unfortunately discovered that she does not like chocolate or cream in her alcohol, which means that I try them alone. I have gotten much closer to the recipe that I am looking for, though a few tweaks are still necessary. We not only have the high class chocolate liquers necessary for these drinks, but the sophisticated bar tools to properly measure, shake, stir, and add ice.

I was at work not too long ago, printing some pictures, and along comes an envelope labeled Wolf. This is not a completely uncommon last name, so it didn't take me much by surprise. Then I noticed the first name. I am not shitting you about this. The woman who dropped off these pictures is named Star Wolf. Thats her fucking name. That is how it is spelled. That is her name. Her name is Star Wolf. It seriously sounds like some sort of intergalactic pirate. Who would do this to their children. Why not just name her timber or were. I am Star Wolf!! I will reclaim the planet Norglock for the Federation. No one at the lab seemed to find it as amusing as I did, but they are all a bunch of buttwads anyway. Well, not all of them, but many of them are buttwads.

Back to the good old days of random pointless blogging and regailing ya'll with tales of stupid Wal-Mart customers and their stupid names.

Peace,

MB-K