Jalapeno potato chips and trail mix generally do not make for a very nutritional breakfast; however, stopping at a Circle K at seven in the morning doesn't leave you with too many other options. I'm not complaining thogh. My tongue's on fire and it's enough to keep me from speaking my mind.
Trust me; nobody wants to hear what I have to say anyways...
I am currently sitting in a Toyota 4-runner, knees to my chest, and my laptop balanced atop. Unfortunately, I'm also watching my father dance to weird techno songs in between singing along with Celine Dion to the Titanic soundtrack. A CD of O.A.R. songs Justin put together for me last night, originally intended to help this drive pass by more quickly, actually has me thinking of him, wishing he were right here with me. My right buttcheek is asleep, but i have no where to shift my weight to, and so it will continue to tingle until we reach the top of Florida and I can get out of here long enough to get a good stretch in.
Ahead of us is a row of cars about seven deep, each of which are occupied by family members with walkie talkies. Each car has a "code name." Ben and Alicia's white truck is, "The White Whale," Brad and Steph's truck is "The White Midget," Kim and Kev's gold Commander is "Gold Digger," Shelly's van is "Party Girl," Kori's Commander is "Silver Seduction," Donna's Buick is "The Gay Mobile," (we still have no idea why they chose to call it this,) and our 4-runner is "The While Mobile." I suppose that our code name is in my honor, as I whined halfway through Florida that I had to pee, I was thirsty, I missed Justin, my dad's music was too loud, his driving was making me dizzy, I was cold, etc. You can't blame me too much though... I'm running on about an hour of sleep... if that.
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