I Really Don’t Have Much To Say

I’m just posting for the heck of it. I am completely uninspired to write anything tonight, but I felt a need to post something. So here’s what I’ve been doing lately:

Last week, I went to California . . . California, Missouri that is. Not really much there. I had to take a deposition. The drive was nice. I did see a giant billboard for the (WARNING: the following phrase may be offensive, however, it was posted on a billboard along Highway 54 here in Missouri, so I’m going to write it here:) Testicle Festival. There — I typed it. I am assuming (because I drove by it at about 70 mph) that it is referring to, shall we say, mountain oysters, which I had NEVER HEARD OF until we moved to Oklahoma. Then suddenly, everyone was like, “Oh, it’s calf fry night over at the _______ (insert name of greasy spoon diner). We just love calf fries!” And in my young, dewy-eyed naivete, I was like, “What’s a calf fry?” Sorry I asked. I don’t know how people can eat those things.

And on my trip home from California . . . Missouri, I saw a state trooper radaring cars from a minivan parked in the median of the highway. Not fair! (Of course, I was driving under the speed limit.) I — I mean others — have trained themselves to be on the lookout for the Crown Vics, the Trooper Camaros, Blazers and occasional unmarked Chevy Impalas, but not a MINIVAN. Who’d suspect a state trooper trying to register your speed from the backseat of a soccer mom vehicle?

Yesterday I had to go down to Cape Girardeau for a mediation. . . I just read the Wiki entry. I did not realize Rush Limbaugh was from Cape Girardeau. Born of lawyers, no less! To tell you the truth, I’d rather slit my own wrists than listen to Rush Limbaugh. Can’t stand the man. But that’s just my opinion. He probably wouldn’t like me, either.

Oh, back to Cape Girardeau. I ate lunch at White Castle, which I find to be an adequate substitution for Krystal. I guess there can’t be too many variations on small, square burgers.

On my way home, I saw a giant lemon driving down the road. No, I wasn’t hallucinating – at that point. Evidently, it was in a caravan of carnival rides and booths. At first, from behind, I thought it was a giant yellow squash. But no, it was a lemon. Probably a lemonade stand. Yup. I went to law school and learned all these fancy deductive reasoning tactic-things.

Wow . . . not bad for completely uninspired.

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