So once again Frau Doodle and I made the journey to the mecca just North of here. She was in a little better spirits on the drive, it was either the fact that she wasn't holding in a very feminine 2ml of urine, or the fact that I wasn't releasing an endless stream of babble as we sat behind (yet another) highway "incident" involving broken cars, flipped cars and a very bad day for somebody's family. Regardless, we finally made our destination, (okay so the drive took over 4 hours, and we were very late for the "appointed time for the exhibit"), the Arizona Science Center, where incidentally, the notorious K-Dog had some of his wares on display. Very nice job Kerry!
Now some of the people attending Kerry's World O' Body's were absolute fucking morons. Clearly, they drove up from Tucson. (And I'm not talking about the fat bald guy who was undressing his wife to demonstrate further anatomy). (Nice job VisceraDoodle!). It could have been the teenage whore lambasting her father for the exact time they would leave this "gross" stuff, 'cuz she had plans. Or it could have been the father who was drilling the names of muscles into his 5 year olds head, as though the youth would somehow remove his finger from his nose, and become known as Doogie Howser ReDux.
Myself? I liked the corrosion cast of the lamb that Kerry did, and I liked the nervous system that Kerry had dissected out, and I liked the glass eyes on the people. (No, I didn't steal one Ms. Tragic...I was trying to get Jeri to steal stuff from the gift shop.)
I had a good time.
I also had a good time wandering through the rest of the museum with Doodle, playing with the science what nots and so forths, laughing as Jeri stood as tall as possible in her short coveralls, straining to convince me that she was 5'3.
Sigh. Did I mention that you have to bring something called "cash" for the parking garage? What the fuck is "cash", that shit is sooooo Winter 1998.
Well you need cash. Your parking ticket validation means you have to pay $1. And sweet jesus, they do not take debit, nor do they take credit. They (and by they, I mean this surly wench of a fifteen year old), are adamant about their $1. Cash. I of course had no cash. Hello? I'm Mr. Bi-Polar who is unable to maintain any semblance of financial responsibility whatsoever, so I clearly cannot be trusted with cash? Remember?
Princess Cashier was absolutely horrified to learn that we didn't have cash, didn't have $1 in the ashtray (there was some burnt VIntage Syrian...). The look of shock was priceless, but then she curled her lip and hissed "what do you mean you don't have caassshhh? I killed the engine, and backtracked to a few months ago when things weren't quite "right" with me. I got as far as the twitchy symptoms, when she put out her hand and gave us further directions.
I was asked to hand over my ID while I drove to an ATM to get cash. That seemed curious to me so I stated the obvious, "I need my ID to drive to the ATM".
At this point, a young Phoenician (who apparently had been through the same process), came up to the window. She was paying for her fees, and wanted her ID back. She said, pretty clearly, "I'd like to pay for them as well".
Princess however, was busily completing a form, jotting down my drivers license, and Fry's VIP Card (2nd ID), and ignored the Phoenician. Finally another clerk came into the booth to see what the fracas was about, she Phoenician explained the situation, and the other clerk looked at Princess as if to say "what's difficult about that?"
Now, Jeri can do this best, but Princess looked up at the new clerk, and I shit you not, straight from the Exorcist came "I'm doing promise to pay form. I'm doing promise to pay."
So we finally made it out of there, and the rumbling coming from my sidekick told me I'd better get her some food.
Once upon a time, when I lived in the Phoenix area, this little dump of a sandwich shop became my favourite place to go. A few years ago, when Jeri dragged me up to one of the crematories up in Phoenix, I took her there, and oh how she squealed with delight. Eerily, she and Kerry squeal at the exact same pitch.
Anyway, this is where I had my heart set on eating. And on the corner where it used to be, my heart fell out (ok it didn;t fall out, but something did loosen). Resting in it's place was now a mexican restaurant, and a mexican hair salon. What the fuck was this? Could the City of Phoenix not draft a memo about the closure and send it down to the denizens of this hovel?
Now the howling from Doodle's side of the car began.
I really think I tested fate that afternoon, by a) not having restocked the car with Jeri's Animal Crackers, or b) pulling into the first restaurant I saw. Somehow I did pull it off and we ended up at Barrio's Pizza, just down the street from the next stop, the Swedish Chapel of Ikea.
As soon as Jeri had her webbed fingers around a merlot, she was fine. But one does wonder, what the fuck was up with bringing the drinks with the pizza? That just seemed dumb. So very....Tucson-like.
Ikea was as always, a grandiose time. I drank a lot of coffee, and bought more plants for #1105 Facility. Batteries of course, because who else but us would drive 2 hours for batteries. (See above: Hello? I'm Mr. Bi-Polar who is unable to maintain any semblance of financial responsibility whatsoever, so I clearly cannot be trusted with cash? Remember?
And then I got to come home with my beloved.
And the following day?
To end our anniversary celebration, we saw Pilobolus perform here on campus. This filled me with a number of ideas to try out at home, I've been warned by Jeri that this is highly unacceptable (remember, I'm Mr. Bi-Polar okay?)
Hi!
I got Jeri some dead bugs, and a compass as well. She was a bit upset that I bought these for her, but was easily distracted by the man telling stories about mining camps in New York, and how the City of Tucson was hoping to raze all developments existing East of Alvernon as they were an embarrassment to the City. (I support them on this, but not on the planting of fruit trees downtown).
