Saturday: Salt lake City

The billboard industry in Salt lake City would put Lady Bird Johnson into a whole new spat of legislative fury.

This market is an awesome and entertaining corridor for anyone with an inkling of advertising blood in them. I outright laughed at some of the creative. Good stuff. And after driving through, I can say this about Salt lake Cityites (or at least, this is what research must have “discovered”):

They fear addiction of any kind. Lots of ads for rehab and treatment joints.

Plastic surgery is, however, quite popular.

God is good (we all knew that).

They enjoy Disneyesque adventure parks for the whole family.

Everything about the town is wholesome. Even Greek Town is wholesome. Subtext: This is not Detroit or Chicago. Oh-Pah!

Refineries are cool places to live and meet friends.

Oh, and the other thing about this place? People drive crazy fast!  The speed limit vacillates between 65 in the city to 80mph in the country. And people do drive the limit. Truckers, too.

Another thing I have to confess I love about this area. The drivers are not passive aggressive. Someone wants to pass you, they do. Without the NW glare. It’s every man/woman for themselves on the road. No one tries to drive and give a morality lesson at the same time.  This is incredibly freeing and dangerous for anyone who grew up in Michigan.

Friday: On the Road Only 10 Hours Past EDT

Well, we finally leave town at the bright and early hour of 6:00 p.m. A new record for Romoser TIme.

I suspect Michael left halfway through prep to get a massage. He is a madly intelligent man.

When we finally hit the road, we stop – many times — for these reasons:

Pick up take-out, because it’s dinner time.

Drop off Mikey’s SAAB at our friend Norm’s garage (to add pads to the metal-on-metal brakes, which we hear actually make cars stop, but in a silent way).

Fill up the tank. About $180 worth of liquid summer adventure!

On the Road: Four hours into the trip

Mikey and I are already eating MacDonald’s shakes, fish sandwiches, fries , Almond Joys, and Heath Bars. We’re superheroes, hopped up on fast-food crack.  I fear a sugar crash is eminent.

We start singing patriotic songs but make up the words or we combine the lyrics and melodies. At this point, I’m just following Mikey a fraction of a second behind his lead. He makes up a lyric, I harmonize, and it’s all slightly off.  Then, without the benefit of a radio, Mikey starts singing Pink Floyd’s “The Wall,” but we don’t know the words, all we remember is “I’ve become, comfortably numb.” That line we sing in a “numb way.” It’s really quite funny.

One Hour Later:

I’m falling asleep and Mikey is quietly singing “Green Acres is the Place to Be.” So I rally and raise him the Beverly Hillbillies “Jed Move AWAY From Thar!”

That keeps us going for about 15 minutes. And then Mikey goes back to quietly singing Hogan’s Heroes.

It’s then, when I realize Hogan’s Heroes has no lyrics but only whistling, that I make the call to pull over. Things have gone too far.

 

Riding the Roomba!

How's it possible that within one day, I see two videos of two different species riding robot vacuums? These robot vacuums, in case you've been living in the same closet with me, are called Roombas. And I want one immediately.

Cat on a robot vacuum.











 

Human baby girl on a robot vacuum. You can tell she's a girl, she's wearing pink. And she's an excellent driver.

Did you know this is a thing? It most certainly is, because I also found...
This:

Duckling and confused shark-cat

Here we have a baby duckling who alternates between chasing a cat that's riding a Roomba dressed in a shark suit, or being chased by a cat riding a Roomba dressed in a shark suit.

Apparently this wasn't fun enough because a dog dressed up as a hammerhead shark makes an appearance toward the tail end of the video. Licking his chops. Could mean he's either hungry, confused or feeling slightly anxious.

And then I found this:

Look closely:

Those, my friends, are prairie dogs riding a robot vacuum cleaner to some bossa nova music. I wish I could say rumba music but I can't.

And finally, although I'm sure there are more tiny animals, babies, and toys riding shotgun on a Roomba, I ferreted out a ferret video just for you.

Ferrets are stinky, even when their scent sac is removed like the "k" from "sack."

The risk with bisque

To whom it may concern:

Thanks for the freaky bisque clown that was left on my porch this morning, unannounced. 

It DID NOT freak me out. 
Your ploy has failed. 

Just bring it on, freaky clown people. 

Bring. It. On.

Poodles, pitbulls and pansies

I didn't see this, just heard about it, but I'm telling everyone. It's like my favorite new story.

So, the other day, my in-laws, Mikey and my dog Zeke are sitting outside on the front porch for happy hour. When all of a sudden, they have the bejeezus scared out of them by a couple of poodles.

Here's how it went down:

Zeke, a sensitive soul

Zeke likes to stand at the top of the stairs and, because he's not in touch with his "inner editor," he barks "hello" at passerby. When he gets their attention, he stops. We've talked about this, and it's something Zeke is working on. Barking alarms pansies. And really, that's all Zeke does. Barks.

Enter the poodle people.

As mom, dad and Mikey are enjoying the sun, two women walk by with two highly manicured poodles on leashes. These pups look like they've been baked at a salon. They've got muffin tops and furry bons bons. They are damn fancy.

Now, for some reason, Zeke doesn't bark at these people or their dogs. Maybe he felt empathy for the ridiculous looking dogs. However...

As soon as the women see Zeke, one starts screaming at the top of her lungs, 

"NO!! NO!! NO!!"

This about knocks the ice cubes outta my in-laws' cocktails. Zeke is frozen in fear. My husband is at a loss for words (See "how to win a domestic argument" 101).

Then the other woman picks up her dog and starts yelling at my family,

"SO. NOT. COOL! SOOOO! NOTTTT! COOOOLLL!!!!" And they storm across the street.

During this scene, and it was an abomination (neighbors came outside to find out who was being skinned alive), my dog never left the porch. He never left the yard. But as soon as the freaky "poodle people" walked across the street, he ran into the bushes, hid and whimpered. My in-laws were just in awe. And by this time, my kids had joined the family on the porch. 

And that's the story. No moral, other than it's nice to see that our neighbors will come out of their homes to see a good fight. Suppose that's reassuring.