In case you missed it, we’re on the road.

Driving from Ohio to Florida, because we just really enjoy doing that with three kids 5 and under.

We’ve decided to escape for a week or so, which sounds way more romantic and mysterious than… Andy was going to lose his vacation days, my house is messy, I would like to not be there for a while, hotel smells are fun!

I have been documenting our trip on Instagram, and have shared some of the fun on twitter and Facebook, so follow me to keep up and see if this ends in rehab.

I’ll also be updating here, because Andy loves nothing more than when he climbs into bed to try and have intercourse with me and I yell, STOP TOUCHING ME WITH YOUR BREATH I’M TYPING STUFF, while on vacation. (I call it foreplay.)

Today, I’m going to share with you some photos from the road, as well as some poetry I felt inspired to write. What can I say, I guess listening to all that Bob Dylan has finally rubbed off on me.

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Eighteen Wheels of Ambiguity
Sometimes they are mean and don’t let me over when I realize I have no
idea what I’m doing and I’m going to miss the exit with the Cracker Barrel.
Sometimes they are nice and honk to tell me cops are ahead and then
mouth SHOW ME YOUR BOOBS when I pass.

Everyone is Sleeping
I’m driving in a bath of soft sleepy breathes and highways.
Sometimes I want to make wishes on the highway lamps like stars.
Other times I want to slam on the brakes and scream really loud so
everyone wakes up thinking we’re about to die in a fiery car wreck.
Until then, beef jerky.

You have a couch and a refrigerator in the bed of your pick up truck.
Will dress your new home with it?
Did it belong to your mother’s mother?
Are you confuse about what RVs are?
Is there a dead body in the fridge?
Endless possibilities in the bed of your red truck.

Boiled Peanuts
Boiled peanuts, what are you?
Boiled peanuts, you look adorable?
Boiled peanuts, OMG why are you liars, you taste like vomit.

In Queue at McDonald’s on a Chilly Winter Day in February After Finding Out They Are Out of Sweet n’ Sour Sauce and Ice
I don’t like old people very much.

Hotel Room Andy
It’s fun you use the top cover of the $59 hotel room.
It makes my heart smile when you say simple things like, “I think they use starch on the sheets, that’s fancy.”
It’s not starch. It’s semen and dead person liquids.
Sleep tight, little man.
Sleep tight.


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