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Well, my computer is still being cranky, so here's just a brief recap of the Labor Day extravaganza:
The famous Davezilla met us for a lovely meal at the Inn Season. He's far less manic than I had imagined. Jim got some lovely pictures of him with Sister, and I'll try to put those up tonight, computer willing.
We took my niece out to the movies for her 17th birthday. We also caught a flick with David and Nadine. If you want a recommendation, I'd say go see the Manchester music scene nightmare descent into booze and pills film over the Hollywood producer's nightmare descent into booze and pills film.
Had a nice dinner with the family as well -- mom and dad, siblings, and my nephew's tiny son, whose face is such an exact replica of his father's that it's like looking back in time. My mom, when talking to a neighbor, introduced "Amy's husband, Jim," which still sounds so peculiar. This will probably be the last time I see my family until next spring (unless my niece comes to Chicago for Thanksgiving, as planned). Now that my parents spend half the year in Florida, I get to Michigan only a couple times a year. Family visits are always stressful and have the potential for explosive strife, but mostly we just eat and enjoy each other's company for a little while, even if I have nothing to contribute to the heated discussions of childrearing or NASCAR.
So, speaking of NASCAR, on the drive back to Chicago, this is what happened: About a half hour away from my parents' homestead in Waterford, a gargantuan red pickup truck, with the owner's favorite racer's number emblazoned on the back window, slowed down as it passed us and honked. I turned my head to see the driver leaning over to give me the finger while his passenger laughed. I returned the gesture as he pulled forward. This happens occasionally as I drive through the hinterlands, where people tend not to agree with my bumper stickers (pro-choice, darwin fish, rainbow flag, and "Vote Republican: It's easier than thinking!") and lack the time or disposition to engage in civil debate. A few minutes later I passed the truck. Shortly thereafter, the truck passed me again, and I made a point to smile toothily and wave really hard. For my efforts I was rewarded with a cursory glance at the passenger's middle finger. I passed the truck again. Then the truck passed me again, slowing down beside me until I looked over to see these clever boys' handiwork: an expertly scribbled sign, black ink on white looseleaf, reading "THANK THE LORD QUEERS DON'T BREED!" They sped off but got stuck behind something slow-moving, and when I switched lanes to pass, they held the sign up again, this time in the driver's window.
This took place along about 100 miles of I-94. I wasn't doing anything to bait them (aside from having opinions, I suppose) but we were both stuck in the same traffic clump for almost and hour and a half. Eventually they got off somewhere. We didn't see them again after Jackson. I was angry and agitated, half wishing we'd composed our own witty sign in retort (like, say, "WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE, SHEEPFUCKING FARM-BOYS?" or even the succinct "BITE ME!"), but that most likely would not have accomplished anything constructive. But still -- they put so much time and effort into proving their ignorance. I didn't want them to think it went unnoticed.
Replies: 5 Confessions
You should breed just to prove how wrong they are! They'd sure feel stupid then, oh boy!
Phineas @ 09/04/2002 10:07 AM CST
What about the old grade school standby:
It takes one to know one!
elavil @ 09/04/2002 03:18 PM CST
OK, let me got this straight, the same hand he used to flip you off (a blapheme from what I understand)he used to write 'thank the lord'?
It doesn't sound like he has a full grasp of what it means to be a Christian.
I wonder what else he does with that hand. (ew, sorry about that)
the other amy @ 09/04/2002 05:14 PM CST
thank god homo's don't breed indeed. if queers did breed then then who would adopt towheaded crotchfruit the pickup boys father because birthcontrol is not god's way. bah.
I need to refind the sticker I had on my previous car. _we feast on the flesh of the living and we vote_. The only time I got crap for it was from a toothless contract plumber at my former place of employe. he shouted crap at me in the parking lot (are you a vampire? what does that mean? are you a satanist? devil! devil!) when I was heading out to pick up lunch. I got back from lunch and he shouted more crap at me.
the head of the plant was wicked cool (and butch as fuck). I explained what happened. she had a chat with him. He didn't impress her so she had him pulled from the job.
that aside, linda barry is having a book signing this saturday 1 pm at comix revolution.
shechemist @ 09/05/2002 09:36 AM CST
You and the hubby could come to FL, like the rest of the family!
Mom C @ 09/06/2002 09:51 PM CST