Part V

Rossman's Travelogue (June 13, 2003)

Oh man. Yesterday was a travel day of sorts. We didn't get going until about 1 or 2 in the early afternoon though, cause that's when the hotel staff started banging on our door to get us up and out of the room, since it was already booked for that night and the fat fucks from Wisconsin (or someplace just as annoying) who had booked it had already arrived. Fuck those obnoxious cheeseheads!!!

So we groggilly got our stuff together, cleaned up as best we could (though Matt^3 left quite the mess in and alllll around the bathroom... which is why all of us were too afraid to shower... which made for a very memorable road trip that day I'll tell you), and then shuffled down to the car. We found Heather asleep under the car when we got to it, so we woke her and told her that it was her turn to pay for the room (just like the last three times). She then wandered off and we shoved everything we could in every space we could find in Big D's gigantimus SUV. I don't know if we're just getting shittier at packing, or if we are buying more stuff than we lose at every stop, but our ride is really getting crowded. We voted on whether to leave Heather behind so that we could pack the 23 beer steins I nabbed at Cheers, but it was at that point that the Heath one came sprinting back into the parking garage yelling "GO!!! Fucking start the car! Go! GO! GOOOOO!!!" We complied when we noticed that she was being chased by some guys in suits with nametags on from the hotel. We waited for Heather to jump in (against my better judgment) and then tore ass out of there while the chasing men started cursing and throwing their shoes at us. Heather said that they were just mad that she didn't give them an autograph when they asked for one... Which made about as much sense as her last story of "Oh, the food money that everybody gathered and gave to me to buy lunch today?... A midget with a knife stole it. All these fast food wrappers and empty fry cartons around me... That's just decoration." So I just let it go. Once she tells us a story she sticks to it, even if it's the gayest and most mongo story you've EVER heard in your entire retarded life.

So anyway, thanks to Big D driving like he was behind the wheel of the powerful Mach 5, we made it to Colonial Williamsburg, the world's largest Renaissance Fair-like place, before the sun went down. We didn't want to walk through the whole place at night, so we put that off till the next day (i.e. today, but I'll get to that soon). But we were all hungry as the Pope shitting in the woods, so we did go looking for this one restaurant that my cousin used to waiter at when he was in college. It was a good place, though in order to keep the whole "We be-eth not in the 21st Century, deceiver! Forsooth, this is the 1600s, and your devil-electricity has yet to taint us" atmosphere going, everything was candlelit. Which was nice... If not dark. And the meals were a bit pricey as was the mead, but they were tasty. Our waitress was practically BURSTING out of her low cut colonial maiden (harlot?) dress, so that was nice. After dinner we all went nighty night in order to do the whole touristy thing in full the next day.

Heather's Journal (June 12, 2003)

Yesterday and today were fun. Oh yeah, I love getting ditched in a strange city and then having to whore myself out to drunk fucks and sleazy baseball players just to get directions and a ride back to my hotel... Only to find that my "friends" switched rooms on me. After trying to get some shut eye in the lobby, and getting yelled at by Rico Un-suave and his lame manager, I had to sleep under Big D's Ford. Oh yeah, I have to remember to tell Big D that his car DRIPS OIL. That can't be good.

So then the next friggin' morning the assholes come and wake me up, and then tell me that I have to pay for the room... Well, if my purse wasn't stolen by the left outfielder for the Red Socks the night before don't you think I would have gotten myself a room instead of sleeping on the concrete? Hmmmm, maybe.

So I went back into the lobby, found Rico and said, "That room that those smelly 20-somethings just came out of, well, here's the address to send the bill to." I gave them the Rossman's home address but Rico tore it up and called security. I tried to run, but he grabbed my arm, so I wound up and kicked him right in the money-maker. He crumbled like the remainder of my dignity and then I bolted! If I had any other way out of the situation I would have taken it, but I didn't so I was forced to run back to my travel companions with the hotel fuzz on my butt. After Big D backed over a few of our chasers, we just kept driving... You know what, Journal?... Just fuck it. This is my last entry. Even if we fucking meet Sasquatch humping the Loch Ness Monster while being anally probed by aliens... I refuse to write any more about this trip.

Rossman's Travelogue (June 13, 2003, part 2)

Today we walked all around the whole colonian town. That's pretty much it. We had all the people who make careers out of pretending to live in the 16 and 1700s tell us all about what life was supposedly like back then. A few of them even used the "n" word when referring to humans with darker skin than me. I was floored! Granted, back then I'm sure they used that very bad word all the time, but even if you're acting a role (especially in front of children and darker skinned people than yourself), you should keep the racial slurs to yourself. Rodney was not too pleased. The first time the innkeeper said it Rodney was like, "What the FUCK did you just say, cracker?!?!" Now, the innkeeper didn't say it in reference to my amigo, but he did say it in regards to who he'd allow to rent a room in his place. Apparently no "n" people were acceptable to him. Holy crap! Big D and I had to tackle Rodney to keep him from doing any (major) physical harm to the inn guy. In retrospect, the innkeeper did take his job a bit too seriously though, and we probably should have let Rod "swing away" with his makeshift baseball bat made from that historic table leg. That might have straightened the fooker out.

The rest of the day was spent walking around, eating ice cream (now that we were back in the South the weather got muy caliente again... Ice cream was very cooling), and listening to the pipes and drums marching band. Good stuff. We ate again in Williamsburg for dinner, and then played cards before going to sleep at around 10 (well, I'll be going to sleep shortly now, but it's only around 10:04). Tomorrow we head home.

Karen's Hello Kitty Diary (June 13, 2003)

It's sad to know that today was the last real day of fun stuff. Tomorrow is driving time, and the next day is "back to the real world" day. When all is said and done I think I'm gonna miss the Rossman and his crazy hijinks that we all had to suffer through for the past couple of weeks. At least his idiocy made this trip memorable. I don't think I'll ever forget when he set up shop in the Williamsburg market and tried to sell of a bound and gagged Heather to some Iranian guy looking for a 13th wife. Or the time that he asked the smithy how much it cost to shoe a horse, and when the smithy asked, "Boy, I need to have the horse here to do the job proper. Heh heh, do you have your horse with you?" And the Rossman said, "Jeez! She's standing right next to me," and he pointed to Heather. Ahhhhh. Classics. You know, the only way to make sure that the Rossman sticks around and lets me join in any further stupid adventures may be to get him to knock me up. Could at least be fun trying.

Rossman's Travelogue (June 14, 2003)

Well, it's over. Back home now and trying to figure out how to trick my neighbors into mowing the jungle that my lawn has become. Looking through my bills now too and seeing that 3 are already past their due dates. At least my place wasn't broken into like Heather's because I told Malcolm Z and his buddies that she'd be gone for two weeks and that she doesn't have a security system or a dog. Now to go look up my favorite sites and see what kind of great pics were updated since I last surfed the web.

Little J's Diary (June 14, 2003)

Now that we're back I have to run out and buy seasons 1-3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have to see what the original deal was with Faith and the Mayor. And see why Angel had to leave for his own show. And I have to see if Spike was really a big pussy the whole time, or if he really was a tough bastard before that chip was put in his head. I can't wait for season 5 to come out now!!! The cheese man is awesome ^_^!

Editor's NOTES: Once again, I'm very glad that I chose not to go on a trip with the Rossman (and if anyone tells you that I just wasn't invited... Well they're just assholes). He did ask me to help him to pack before the trip while he got drunk, so I just packed him 3 suitcases full of Beef-A-Roni. This makes me wonder though. I mean, he never once complained about it or even wrote about it in his travelogue. Does that mean that he never once went looking for fresh shirts or tidy whiteys? Good GOD! I can't even imagine what the stench in the car must have been by the ride home.

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