On the open road

I am a good son. You know how I know that? I make my parents appreciate how lucky they have it. Instead of coming home on-time like I promised, I let them wait a little. With their cushy lives the least I could do was make Mom worry for a few hours. I mean, come on! That woman hasn't worried a day in her life! She'll thank me for it, I'm sure. It's not like she was making dinner for me or anything. She probably didn't even clean the house in anticipation of my arrival, right?

So instead of getting home at 2:00, I waited until it got dark. Increase the degree of difficulty a little, you know? How hard can it be driving without snow tires on the most dangerous highway in Idaho while it is icy? Okay, so I was a little short-sighted. Maybe the next time Mom needs a surprise or a little excitement I'll make her a mixed tape or something.

Aside from me being a jerk, I had a pretty good drive. I passed the Coeur d'Alene Tribal Bingo and Casino, always a good time. It's fantastic to see a parking lot full of holiday gamblers taking in the Christmas Spirit on a Sunday evening. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" like telling Johnny and Sally that they won't be getting presents this year from Santa because Daddy should have bet on red and then had a cold streak at the black jack table.


Anyway, speaking of mixed tapes, here was my playlist for the drive home:

Flight of the Conchords, "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room"
Ben Kweller, "Penny On the Train Track"
Ben Lee, "Catch My Disease - That's the Way I Like It" (Note: not as bad as it sounds)
Maroon Five, "Wake Up Call"
Jimmy Eat World, "Let It Happen"
Dropkick Murphys, "I am Shipping Up to Boston"
Soulja Boy Tell 'em, "Crank That (Soulja Boy)"
Finger Eleven, "Paralyzer"
Sarah Johns, "He Hates Me"
Alan Jackson, "Designated Drinker"
Alan Jackson, "Pop A Top"
Taylor Swift, "Our Song"

So you'll notice that the last four are country, in honor of Becky. I have two criteria for listening to country. Either A) I have to have heard them in concert, or B) If it is a chick, she has to be hot. I am quite the country music connoisseur as you can see.

At any rate, there is a funny story about the last song (Taylor Swift, Our Song). Dad and I were driving to go hunting in Lewiston and we were listening to the radio (Dad needs a new one, BTW). I had probably been yapping about something for twenty minutes or so when this song came on. I could have sworn that Dad turned the radio up to drown out my voice (like he did at dinner tonight) and this was the song on the radio. The song is about some chick who tells her boyfriend that they don't have a song, and then he tells her all of this sweet and sappy BS about how they don't need one. He makes up all of this cutesy stuff that they have done together and how the sounds associated with it constitute their "song."

Every time I hear it, I think of it as the song for Dad and me and try to make up lyrics that would be about us so that it is all sappy and uncomfortable. Once people have had a chance to listen to it, I'll write them out so you can get the picture of what my song for Dad is. If you haven't heard the lyrics for the original song yet, here is the chorus:

"Our song is the slammin' screen door,
sneakin' out late, tappin' on your window
when we're on the phone and you talk real slow
because it's late and your momma don't know.
Our song is the way you laugh,
the first amen, I didn't kiss her when I should have
and when I got home, before I said amen
I ask God if he, could play it again."

Imagine me singing that to Dad. Yuck.

Anyway, I made it home safe and sound and Mom put together a kick-butt dinner of goose and home-made bread. I guess Dad is the ultimate hunter considering he shot dinner and I would have been eating Kitty kebobs if I was hunting.