We check out of the hotel in Georgia. The hostess says “you girls be careful.” Oh my god what an ominous warning. “Drive safely” would certainly have sufficed.
Kaitlyn is SO PUMPED to go to the Jack Daniel’s Distillery. She is ECSTATIC. On the drive there we play all sorts of movie star hot but and listen to too much Chelsey and Rob’z Mix. Movie star hot but he’s Rob. We’re finally back in Tennessee, listening to every song on my iPod about whiskey.
The distillery is phenomenal. You walk right up to where the creek filters down out of the rocks, Jack’s original office building, THE SAFE THAT KILLED HIM!, you see the distilling, mellowing, the aging and giant vats and barrel store houses.
The town is adorable. Less than 400 people live there, making a living off the distillery. It is CHOC-full of little old ladies. We eat lunch in a BBQ Caboose and listen to a doofy little kid misbehave.
Doofy kid: Mom, which finger is your middle finger? Is it this one? What does it mean when you point it at someone? My friend told me it means you hate god. Is it bad?
Kait: I’m gonna go over there and tell them EXACTLY what that means. Then I’m gonna tell them that Santa Clause is dead.
Jakke and I learn that Tommy Gobes has three stages of mad:
1) Get off my ear.
2) You’re pushing your luck.
3) Cut the shit.
I hear Jack D is buried in Lynchburg, so we get directions to the cemetery. Mustache time! Seriously, the 8 dollars I spent on mustaches in Kentucky is probably the best investment I’ve ever made. The grave has two chairs sitting in front of it, for all the ladies he a’ courted to mourn in. The cemetery is on a huge hill overlooking the town – big green hills across the roadway with a lonely old farm on top of it. Kaitlyn will move there as soon as she possibly can and we will lose her forever.
Up to this point we have known what was coming next. Now we don’t. Two whole days and no giant shit to see. We are floating and it makes me cranky.
Then Jakke gets a hot tip about a statue of Dolly Parton. You can rub her boobs for luck! We drive and drive. Try to go to Wet Slab Cold Stuff but can’t!!
Obviously, we play M*A*S*H.
Turns out, Kaitlyn is married to Ben from LOST; they live in a shack at an auto mall and have 4 kids. She drives a yeti.
Jakke is married to the couple from Mississippi we met in Hurricane Mills. How lucky for her. They live in a shack in a lagoon; she has 3 kids, drives a 1969 Camaro and works as Loretta Lynn’s personal assistant.
I’m married to “Movie Star Hot But Shoushan.” We live in a shack at the Waffle House where Chelsey and Rob broke up and have as many kids as Mrs. Duggar. OOF. I drive a canteen and am professionally Christopher Walken.
Not bad.
It’s now retarded o’clock. Time for beddy bye.
No comments:
Post a Comment