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Today, I'm in Houston, TX. Actually, I'm in a hotel room in Houston, TX. I didn't leave the hotel until 6pm when we decided to get up and eat something other than candy corn and cough drops. How much fun shit can happen in 30 minutes? Well let me tell you...a lot.
Destination Hard Rock Cafe pin collector took us about 15 minutes away to the Theatre District of this fine Texas city, but no sooner than before we got past the corner of our hotel.....we came upon a sight to behold - the WienerMobile.
"Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooh, I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener!" could not have been sung with more gusto from two women approaching their 30's if you paid us to. What an incredible fucking ride. What I wouldn't give to steer that giant penis shaped mobile down the sprawling sidewalk or across the open highway. I guess my picture with my booty backed up against it at the corner of Hidalgo and Sage will have to do.
Arrival dinner time - public parking garage at the Hard Rock Cafe complex. We parked in section orange, which I only know because of Paul Blaart Motorized Mall Cop who quizzed us upon exiting the parking complex. He asked us where we were going before we even had the car doors locked...in hindsight, he was a little odd.
"You're going the wrong way. Hop on." Those words will go down in infamy some day, I know it! Tonight was not the night for that though. Tonight two hefty girls hopped on the backwards facing golf cart seat, putting a strain on the shocks and minature horse power and zipped along the parking garage to our underground stairwell. It was walkable, but who can really say no to motorized mall security. Not me. Not me.
As we bid our security farewell and began our ascent up into San Juan Capistrano, the greeting of a thousand tree dwelling birds rang in our ears, second only to the mass quantity of bird shit covering the stairwell, steps, and handrails. "We're gonna get shit on ," I declared as if it were one of the commandments itself.
Of course what would a big city be without a wayward transient citizen milling about the only open dining establishment on the block? Not a big city, that's what. Just then as a waft of urine and booze hit us, our neighborhood hobo frustrated with the garbage selection, threw a glass bottle back into the can which was just as effective as shooting the birds out of the tree with a pellet gun. Two words = shit storm. Somehow in the chaos, I managed to avoid the white rain falling down from the sky, but my dinner date was not as lucky.
"Lauren!"
"What?"
Angry with disgust and disbelief she demanded to know..."is. there. shit. in. my. hair?"
"Uhhh...(stifle), no, just a bit of a streak right there on your sweater."
"I knew I was going to get shit on today."
(long pause) "So then I'm guessing you don't want to sit outside on the patio then?"
Today was more fun than a circus.
