[Thursday, Sept 11] Tornados. Hurricane. $6 a gallon gas. Country Music. An unforseen car accident. This is the goodness awaiting me in Branson. I can feel it.
Quick rundown of the evening....
Caliber is cool.
Gps got me lost. Dumped me in a trailer park.
I miss country music.
Hillbilly Inn. I love this town.
Cute Starbucks girl flirted her ass off with me. I love this town.
Hotel Hottie. LOL. LOL.
Hotel Hottie: Good evening. Checking in?
Me: Good job. ::cute smile:: Spencer. Nicole.
Hotel Hottie: ::cute smile back:: Wonderful.
::small chat and gratuatous amounts of flirting::
Hotel Hottie: Before the keys, please sign this waiver. It just says you won't smoke in the room or have any pets.
Me: Ok. ::starts signing & stops.:: Damn. You just ruined my evening, ya know.
Hotel Hottie: I'm sorry?
Me: I have a gerbil in my car... what am I supposed to do now?
Hotel Hottie: ::Look of horror followed by insane laughter::
Hello, Branson. You and I are going to get along just fine.
[Friday, Sept 12] Happy Birthday, you! I suck, I know. Hopefully, someday you will allow me to show you how sorry I am for being a part of that. I've missed you, but you're never more than a thought away.
[Saturday, Sept 13] Flight 7958. 5am. It smells funny in here. Really funny. The flight attendant looks like Meg Ryan, hot Meg from Inner Space-Meg... only this one's on a strict Twinkies only diet. Still, something about her makes me want to kiss her and I swear it's not because I'm convinced she's filled creamy goodness.
[7am-ish that same day] It's a law...law of nature or whatever, but every toilet I enter has to have been previously pissed on by someone else. Every one. It's as if they are breaking in toilets everywhere for me. Thank you, oh Superior Diety, but I can handle this one myself.
Quick rundown of the evening....
Caliber is cool.
Gps got me lost. Dumped me in a trailer park.
I miss country music.
Hillbilly Inn. I love this town.
Cute Starbucks girl flirted her ass off with me. I love this town.
Hotel Hottie. LOL. LOL.
Hotel Hottie: Good evening. Checking in?
Me: Good job. ::cute smile:: Spencer. Nicole.
Hotel Hottie: ::cute smile back:: Wonderful.
::small chat and gratuatous amounts of flirting::
Hotel Hottie: Before the keys, please sign this waiver. It just says you won't smoke in the room or have any pets.
Me: Ok. ::starts signing & stops.:: Damn. You just ruined my evening, ya know.
Hotel Hottie: I'm sorry?
Me: I have a gerbil in my car... what am I supposed to do now?
Hotel Hottie: ::Look of horror followed by insane laughter::
Hello, Branson. You and I are going to get along just fine.
[Friday, Sept 12] Happy Birthday, you! I suck, I know. Hopefully, someday you will allow me to show you how sorry I am for being a part of that. I've missed you, but you're never more than a thought away.
And. Fuck all. I was right. There was a car accident. With the hottest guy I've ever laid eyes on or smashed into. Damn his dirty girlfriend.
[Saturday, Sept 13] Flight 7958. 5am. It smells funny in here. Really funny. The flight attendant looks like Meg Ryan, hot Meg from Inner Space-Meg... only this one's on a strict Twinkies only diet. Still, something about her makes me want to kiss her and I swear it's not because I'm convinced she's filled creamy goodness.
[7am-ish that same day] It's a law...law of nature or whatever, but every toilet I enter has to have been previously pissed on by someone else. Every one. It's as if they are breaking in toilets everywhere for me. Thank you, oh Superior Diety, but I can handle this one myself.
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