Day Two: The Honeymoon's Over

Well, it's actually day three now, but I'll get to that in a minute. First, a correction. My sister tells me that those aren't freckles covering the step-dad's belly; they're moles (moley, moley, moley). And she's right. Technically, they're moles, but looking at that thing is a bit like looking at the sun. It's too much to take all at once and really painful to the eyes if you get more than a sideways glance, so freckles, moles, whatever... some brown spots are decorating the buddha belly. I think you get the idea...

Moving on... First let me say that I did not sleep well during night number one with the snoring roommate. I guess I should have known, but I just wasn't prepared for that shit. I mean, I'm not talking about the kind of "Oh, look at the old man snoring" kind of snores. These were violent. And intermittent fart bursts removed even the remote possibility that the snoring might somehow lull me to sleep. I'm not sure how he got any sleep with all that going on. Or how Mom ever does. But whatever.

The morning of Day Two, I walked into the bathroom to take a shower and found his not so tidy tighty whiteys hanging up in there. Ugggh. Yet another great way to start a day.

But wait. It gets worse.

The night before I took a shower and lathered a washcloth with the bar of hotel soap. This morning I got in the shower only to find that the bar of soap now looked curiously rounded much like the hairy, moley, buddha belly I'd seen the day before. And there were now black pubes stuck in the bar. The Jabba's pubic hairs!! G-ROSS! I will get my own bar of soap from now on. I do not share well. Not that anyway. I hadn't even had my coffee yet.

Around 7 a.m., I was sitting in the room waiting for Jabba to get a move on when he headed for the bathroom with the newspaper. Not a good sign. Next thing I know there were groans coming out of him and through that door that would frighten small children. Or 32-year-old ones. I couldn't take it. I left. Put ice in the cooler. Took my stuff to the car. Picked out some different CD's to listen to. 32 minutes and two sections of the paper later, he came out refreshed and ready to go.

Unlike the day before, we got a lot of driving in Friday. Made our way through Alabama, Mississippi (passed Chunky, Mississippi, by the way), and Louisiana, and finally landed in Fort Worth, Texas, for the night. While we made good progress, all that driving meant the step-dad didn't have a lot of people to talk to. I think he must have felt a little talk-deprived because he started saying things to me that no one should really say out loud.

Example #1: "I gotta get this out of my butt" -- said on our way into McDonald's as he arched his back and walked on tiptoes so he could stretch back and reach his thumb and fingers up his crack to pull whatever it was that was stuck in his craw.

Example #2: At the Texas welcome center, he asked to get something out of my car. I didn't ask what it was. Didn't need him to tell me what it was. Didn't want to know. But apparently, he wanted me to know. "I've gotta change these underwear. I'm sweating like crazy in that damn truck, and it's rubbing me raw." (apparently, his underparts are all better now though.)

Example #3: Still at the Texas welcome center. Leaning back with a very satisfied boyish grin on his face and speaking of his long pee in his first Texas toilet: "I christened Texas gooooooood."

That only gets us to about 3 o'clock yesterday, and there's more to tell, but I'm tired, so I'll try to catch up tomorrow (we should be in Tempe tomorrow - yay!) Until then, sweet dreams... Pictures to come...