Dear Blob!
Who are these talentless, time-wasting, horse-faced whores from "The Hills"? and when will they cease gracing the covers of my US Weekly magazines? I much prefer to learn about Brangelina, Kate Hudson's latest lovers, and other sordid sagas of real celebrities. The tacky, rather ugly girls from "The Hills" do not hold the appeal of Jennifer Aniston's rocky, but juicy, love-life or the ongoing drama of good old Brittney and Jamie Lyn and newly-lesbian Lindsey Lohan! You go Lindsey!
In other news, I just spent 11 days on a cross-country roadtrip with True Love (TR), from Georgia to Laland. Highlights included humid Southern-artists wedding in rural Alabama, which had superlative wedding barbecue and all-you-can-eat-shuck-your-own-oysters, an unheard of luxury
on the west coast, but apparently food-of-the-people, in the South. On the way to the Alabama wedding, TR and I stopped for gas and upon purchasing, I inquired of the salesclerk, "What town are we in?" and she replied, "Alabama." Again I said, "Yes, but what town?" "Alabama." "I know, but what town is this?" "Oh. Selma."
TR and I quested for the folk-art grocery-church in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and came upon a rainbow-painted cinder-block, mardi-gras-beaded, ramshackle extravaganza, which resembled Lady Elaine of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood's, house. Reverend Herman and his wife, Margaret, the very black and very quirky 93-year-old host and hostess , sat on the porch and were thrilled to have visitors. Reverend Herman built the folk-art grocery-church for Margaret and repeated the same 3 phrases throughout our visit: 1. You can leave a donation, but you don't have too! 2. Don't drink or gamble and bring all your money home to your wife, who is your angel! 3. Take pictures of my church I built! It was surrealism in action. No need for The Ukulady to go to Burning Man - magical adventures and surrealism are everywhere.
TR and I hit the Carlsbad Caverns, which are a Must-See for anyone interested in beauty; the Grand Canyon, another beauty Must-See; a ridiculously windy Mojave desert, complete with 3 inch white spiders.
I was surprised that Louisiana is seemingly all-swamp and Mississippi is full of magnolia trees. Texas is huge and apparently smoking is still legal, in eateries. In San Antonio, New Mexico, we came upon the 7th Best Burger in America, at a tiny hole-in-the-wall called The Buckhorn. GQ magazine had somehow stumbled upon the blink-and-miss-it town, and sure enough, the green chile burger was awesome.
No roadtrip can be summed up in a mere blog/b, but I wanted to alert you, oh Blob, and readers, as to my slacker whereabouts lately.
Love The Ukulady
ps: TR and I invented a great game called Mississippi Go! The goal is to spell Mississippi the fastest. Player 1 begins, spelling Mississippi as fast as he/she can and when finished spelling, he/she shouts, "Go!" and Player 2 spells as fast as possible and shouts Go! and onwards until neither player is capable of spelling Mississippi anymore. Good Times.
pps: We tried to go to a pie shack in Natchez, Mississippi, called Mammy's Cupboard, which is a huge black mammy-shaped building, with what Roadfood.com said has the best banana caramel pie ever. To our enormous disappointment, by the time we got to Mammy's cupboard, indeed a scarf-headed, tray-laden, black-lady-shaped building with the front door in her huge pink skirt, Mammy's cupboard was closed.
