Saturday 4:12 p.m.
Ok, everyone’s dressed and looking sexy. Well, almost. The girls are dragging behind, but what do you expect? And now we’re off to watch JN ruin his life get hitched.
Saturday 2:55 p.m.
What an eventful morning: breakfast, walk on the beach, exploring the area.
They tell me it was fun, I slept til 11:30.
The afternoon mission was lunch – at Panera. I was standing in line when Coug pointed out the bangin’ body on some chick in line in front of her. Kind of awkward to get a “look at that smoking hot body” from a 49-year old woman, but hey, good looking out by her.
We then went on a little shopping spree. Bama picked up some dress socks, which he forgot to pack. I spilled purfume on my hand while wandering around making in appropriate comments behind Skeeter.
I did make some very nice woman laugh, when Skeeter said “Look who has a perfume!” and held up Paris Hilton’s fragrance. I asked “Is it called Skank?” and this very nice respectable woman nearby laughed out loud.
Then we went to a liquor store so I could pick up some cigars, and I spotted a Crown Royal gift set with a free flask (wrapped in purple velvet of course)… Since JN’s going cash bar tonight at the wedding, I figured it was a required purchase.
Now we’re back watching UMass-Kansas in the room while Coug irons for us.
7:59 p.m./ 9:19 p.m. – Jacksonville, Fla.
We arrived at our hotel, starving and punch drunk from our road trip. We arrived at our ocean side hotel, just off of A1A (Beach Front Avenue!).
From the balcony of our rooms, we can see the ocean. As well as the outdoor pool and the indoor hot tub. (It’s dark, so no potential fling candidates down there yet).
Our room number: 504. In honor of our New Orleans area code.
The gift bags seem nice. There’s like coffee, tic-tacs, pretzels, bottled water, a guide to the area, huge chocolate bar, and some girlie crap like bath salts and a note from the couple.
The balcony looks awesome, and I forgot to bring cigars, so after posting this I’m definitely googling nearby smoke shops.
We went to a Mexican restaurant, which was pretty good (and I’m a very selective Mexican eater, I don’t like mushy stuff, so no beans, no quac, no cream, etc. And they didn’t give me anything I didn’t want. So that was nice).
Skeeter and Coug are nice and buzzed after a pitcher of margaritas, and appear headed to the hot tub.
6:35 p.m. Somewhere, Fla.
We’re now stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic behind some accident. Where was OnStar on that one?
Bama Slick has a sore tailbone, which led to him abruptly standing up. It was surprising, awkward and comical all at the same time. There were giggles.
We have reached the singing part of the trip where everyone sings along with a song they like.
Skeeter’s version of Meredith Brooks’ Bitch was quite outstanding.
Coug keeps singing the original version of songs which got sampled/remixed into rap songs.
I’ve been playing “Name That Tune” from the back. Not quite Rock N’ Roll Jeopardy (which I dominate), but I think I’m hitting at least .588.
We figure our groom is at his rehearsal dinner and discovering that he was supposed to write his own vows.
Turns out it was a nice big accident and Coug has cranked it up a notch to make up some time… til we hit the Disney World exit.
Apparently this place has a hot tub, but I brought nothing to wear in it. Skeeter will be creating a blog of her own to post the naked pictures. Oh well, I never wanted to run for public office anyway.
4:53 pm – Gadsden, Fla.
Now in the Eastern Time Zone (it’s 3:53 p.m.)
It’s open mic night for Bama. He’s simply lobbing one-liners left and right. All hysterical, none of which are repeatable.
In between arguing over the 70s, 80s or 90s XM station (DJ Skeeter is doing a slightly above average job), we’ve managed to solve everyone’s problems in the vehicle. So we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.
I got a text from someone who thinks we’re crashing the wedding. That would have been a much better plotline, but alas, we were invited.
We’ve got about two hours left, and we’re all wishing we could steal this vehicle. That is, if we avoid crashing. Coug’s hands seem to follow her eyes, and so we’ve definitely experienced rumble strips in four states.
1:49 PM – Pensacola, Fla.
We are cruising in style in a flat out pimp mobile (Bean is our official pimp, dressed in a purple velvet jumpsuit).
Too bad we don’t have any DVDs on us, but we didn’t know we had that feature until we were on the road. We’d stop now, but talking to that officer really cut into our time. And the cupholders really don’t do their jobs. But other than that, it’s a pimp-tastic ride.
After figuring out the GPS and the XM Radio (current tunes: 80s pop channel, Walk This Way) we’re through Pensacola, where we had lunch at Subway. The OnStar says we’re still 371 miles away (5 hours and 34 minutes) from Jacksonville.
Turn-by-Turn navigation is kind of wasted on us, because we have about seven hours between turns on this trip. We’ve also decided the Navigation voice needs to come in different styles, in case you don’t like an uptight white bitch bossing you around. There needs to be a laid back brother, telling you in a calm way where to go.
Further updates as we go. Back to cruising.
Bama delivering the lines of the trip thus far:
Coug: “She got knocked up by a fellow from Africa, who’s name is pronounced “Lay-On”
Bama: “He certainly was Laying On her.”