The rest of the night in Nashville was a blast, which is clearly illustrated by the mad libs Kaitlyn wrote in the car:
Yesterday was
squirrely (adj.). We wake up at
0800 hours (time) because the night before we had
racketeered (activity) until
DEATH:30 (time). When we were
racketeering (activity), we met
12 (#)
horrific (adj.) men. They asked Jakke to
douche it (favor/request). Of course she agreed. Maeve told her not to, but then joined in. Meanwhile, Kaitlyn was busy
sprinting (verb) the bartender. At the end of the night we
cajolted (verb, past tense) into the
skee-do (mode of transportation) and high-tailed it back to the Holiday Inn. Boy, Nashville sure is
wiley (adverb).
Author's note (to my parents): "douche it" refers to leaving quickly, as in "let's douche it out of here." The other kind of douching is far too lewd for mad libs.
We wake up in the morning and go to the Grand Ole Opry.
We eat grits in a Cracker Barrel,
go to the DUKES OF HAZZARD MUSEUM!,
and the Country Music Hall of Wax.
That is IT. I am moving to Nashville.
We start to drive out to Hurricane Mills to Loretta Lynn's ranch. It's raining, everyone has their cranky pants on, and Christopher Walken keeps trying to take us back to Scranton, Pennsylvania.
Christopher Walken takes us up the side of a mountain on a dirt road. Kaitlyn dies a little.
Loretta Lynn's is beautiful. Her mansion is across from the creek, the old mill, the replica of the Butcher Holler house, a recording studio, a simulated mineshaft, etc. It is absolutely gorgeous.
We take the tour through with a coup0le from Mississippi. All three of us die a little. "WELL I'LL BE JOHHHNNN BROWN!" We actually had to call Tommy Gobes to ask who John Brown was and why a fat obnoxious man from Mississippi would be him. Anyway they welcomed us to Dixie and made us want to rip our faces off.
Hiyyoo, John Brown.
We almost lost Jakke there. It's perfect for her. It was really hard not to just leave her where she belongs.
We drive toward Alabama. It appears that the CB radio is actually interfering with other signals. We keep hearing transmissions about "ladies." Us ladies? We can hear the car accelerating
through the CB. We eventually just turned it off. We've all seen the movie Joy Ride, nothing good ever comes of dicking around with a CB radio.
The drive to Alabama is so dark. Darker than Amish country. That's because when you drive to Alabama you are actually driving straight to Hades. We survive by playing "Movie Star Hot, But..." for four hours. Fort Payne, AL is abandoned. We take pictures with bronze statues of the band Alabama... in Alabama.
"That's the kind of thing that makes your vagina slam shut like a bank vault."
Georgia doesn't smell so hot. We can't find the family of Muffler Men we came to see. We eat peeps and listen to vintage horror radio programs, then check into a Comfort Suites. A minor league baseball team is also staying there. We don't like them so much.
I don't even know how Kaitlyn slept that night, knowing what was coming on Day 5.
<3
