Hey-heaux it’s live blog time! We just had a lively Quality Inn breakfast. Some heavily-Southern accented man came in with big intensity and immediately started fucking with the waffle maker with major confidence. I mean, the way he approached this, it was the air of a man who had made many complimentary hotel waffles in his time. But then it started beeping and he screamed for his wife to help. She came over quietly, did not look alarmed at all even though I was CLENCHED in my seat, and calmly said, “you have to flip it. It’s telling you to flip it.” He tried to argue that this couldn’t possible be the case because he JUST STARTED IT but then she swiftly flipped the thing over and voila, beeping stopped.
“Oh. Ok thanks!” he said, mood shifting back to pleasant morning sunshine mood. But then as we were walking out, HE COULDNT FIND THE BUTTER!!! She was trying to help him rifle through the condiment tower and he was getting angrier and angrier, which brought back memories of 5 minutes earlier when I also could not find the butter after being TICKLED to see biscuits on display (I always want biscuits on these southern road trips obvi) so I said, “Are you looking for the butter? Because it’s in the cooler over there. I couldn’t find it either!” First, they had both whipped around to look at me with this expression of WHO IS THIS YANKEE HARLOT THAT DEIGNS INFILTRATE OUR EARS WITH HER NORTHERN DIALECT but then they quickly softened when they realized I was HELPING so they gratefully thanked me.
Chooch said that he was in there alone with the guy before we got there and the guy yelled “where’s the fucking creamer??” to Chooch, and then screamed for the “coffee girl” to come help, but it wasn’t a girl, it was a man, and Chooch said the same thing, that once the hotel employee pointed out the creamer to him, he apologetically said, “oh my bad!”
We actually walked in on the tail end of this confrontation and I could tell we had JUST missed the heated climax. There was tension sizzling as the man retreated with his coffee.
Anyway, it’s 7:35am and we are making our way out of Georgia after a FANTASTIC evening at Fun Spot last night. Seriously, it was everything I hoped and more, worth driving 11 hours from Pgh for one coaster, but then the little park ended up being very pleasant overall and the experience was worth it.
9:03am: ugh just stopped at Buc-ees. This place is so intense and overwhelming – I can’t tell if I like it or hate it.

Babe, wake up. #followmeto Buc-ees for beef jerky, “world famous restrooms,” and diabetes. And…candles.

This place is fucking ridiculous. But I guess if you like big meats and freedom, it’s for you! And you’ll know if one is in a 200 mile radius because you’ll start seeing billboards every mile.
11:27am: oh where have I been, you ask? Just reading this novella-length article about Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova’s friendship-turned rivalry-back to friendship and how their life has had so many parallels that they even got cancer at the same time. You guys, I’m crying. Their history is insane and knowing that they supported each other through cancer recently is so pure and amazing but also I know feel like I have cancer running all through my body and am paranoid, panicked, petrified.
Also, we are apparently in Tennessee because Henry made the unilateral decision to take a different route home.
2:10pm:

At Lucky Dog Cafe in Winchester, KY after fighting for a solid hour over where to stop for lunch. It always a point of contention. Anyway, look at how cute this town is!

2:32pm: Chooch just said he’s going to use the bathroom so I said please don’t do anything weird in there, and Henry thought I said, “why are you an inbred American?” So now I laughed myself to tears.
This place is nice but they have HUNTS KETCHUP. I question any establishment that chooses to put HUNTS on their tables over HEINZ.
SHUDDER.

2:50pm: Back in the car after a short walking tour of downtown Winchester, home to Ale81 (some white bitch was waiting for her Ale81 DOORDASH when he walked by and then we saw like two other references/ads for it immediately after so I’m just assuming here) and this really disgusting mural:

So gross.

4:11pm: I guess we’re still in Kentucky because we stopped at a Love’s that had Kentucky merch. Anyway, I got tired of waiting for Henry to finish his shit session (ugh) so I went back out to the car RIGHT AS CHOOCH WAS OPENING HIS DOOR BC HE FARTED SO BAD EVEN HE KNEW THE CAR NEEDED AIRED OUT. This made me flip out and go back in the store, where Henry was now roaming around after completing his DISCHARGE, and demanded that we buy air freshener. We got a can of Glade so now our car stinks like vanilla lavender and the stench of Chooch’s lies as he swears he didn’t fart.
4:24pm: Wow finally in WV. This is allegedly the first time we’ve taken this particular route and I don’t know how I feel about it. Kentucky was very boring.
6:55pm: Still in WV. Stopped at one of the worst Sheetz ever – small, no traffic flow, super annoying. Apparently the line for the men’s room was really long because a Coach tour bus had rolled up so King Henry came over to the neighboring BFS, aka Big Fuck Stick, to pee. So high maintenance.
7:52pm: just entered PA!! 58 more minutes, supposedly.
11:13pm: So my blog was hacked again, woo hoo! I wrote this whole ass post on Notes and I’m waiting for the blog police to call Henry back after my blog is restored so I can post this idiocy.
But anyway, we got home around 9pm RIGHT BEFORE A STORM BLEW THRU and idiot Henry couldn’t find the housekey. He started rummaging in the console for it when we were about 5 minutes away from home and it was CLEAR that it wasn’t in there but he just KEPT RUMMAGING and finally I snapped, “OK guy, it’s not in there! Give it up! This isn’t Mary Poppins’ bag, there is a bottom” and for some reason, Chooch thought this was so funny and couldn’t stop laughing and then this pissed off Henry even more.
“It’s probably in your fucking purse,” Chooch scoffed, thus making it my turn to crack the fuck up because Henry has this stupid sling thing that he takes on trips and of course Chooch calls it his purse which makes Henry seethe.
Anyway, it ended up being in his other shorts in his suitcase which he didn’t discover until after we got home and he practically dumped the contents of his purse on the front porch and then I said, “I thought you said earlier that they were probably in your black shorts” so then he started to rifle through his overnight bag in the trunk and there they were, lololol.