April Shit Showers Bring May Adventure Flowers

Remember when I was so psyched about March? Well that has obviously come and gone and if you follow ‘Summer of One Thousand Bullshit’ then you might have noticed in my last post that things since the Final Four have been glamorless and squalor-y in the motel in which I find myself residing. The news isn’t all bad though! All this April bullshit has left my checking account pretty swollen in a below-the-poverty line sort of way. Not, like, encephalitic levels of swelling, but definitely spider bite swelling. Not a bad spider bite that will kill you, but a pretty gnarly one that itches like a bitch. To clarify that analogy, let me summarize: if my normal financial state is smooth, unblemished skin, my current state contains some venom and has a bump on it? A money bump. Or the venom is the money? I have really made a pig’s ear of this shit. Let’s forget the whole thing. Just remember that I am low-stakes rich, and stoked about it.

So all the air mattressing, leaky showering, semi-insane screaming neighboring, it’s all been worth it because now I can leave Tahoe in style (read: with a cooler full of dope sandwiches and a 12-pack of Low Carb Monster Energy Drinks) and pursue National Park Passport stamps to my heart’s content for almost the entire month of May. For those of you who don’t know me well, understand that the pursuit of National Park Passport stamps is second only to my friends and family on the list of things that maximum elate me. Visiting National Parks, Monuments, and Historic Sites is what I was put on this glorious Earth to do. There are some 1500-odd stamps (including bonuses) of which I have collected 234 since acquiring my first stamp January 1st, 2007 (Point Reyes National Seashore). Collecting the rest isn’t on my ‘bucket list’, it is my ‘bucket list’. Some of you might think that this hobby is for 7 year-olds. The prominent placement of the passport stamps among the Junior Ranger souvenirs in visitor centers across our fucking sweet land lends credence to your theory; but I’d like to see a 7 year-old take 3 weeks off from work to drive to Topeka to visit the Brown vs. The Board of Education NHS. Swish.

All told, my road trip from South Lake Tahoe, California to Damascus, Virginia (via South Point, Ohio) should land me a healthy 30 stamps, ranging in color from the vibrant orange of the Mid-West region to the distinctive baby shit yellow of the Rocky Mountain region. About this, I am beyond stoked.

The stamps aren’t even the only terrific shit coming my way in May! At the end of this trip I’m going to be sipping whiskey and smelling foul on the Appalachian Trail, surrounded by my beardedest buds at Camp Riff Raff, where in the past we have partied heartily enough to garner the sponsorship of Miller-Coors, who will be giving us a metric shit-ton of beer. Also pretty much the whole time I’m going to be dressed old-westily, which is going to be a damn blast. My old West attire will come in handy when I am Maid of Honoring the shit out of my dear friend’s Cowboys & Indians themed wedding at this Trailapalooza. Fucking yes.

Damascus is still many pop tarts from now, though. What other awesome shit am I going to be doing until then, you ask? Well for starters, I’m going to finally get to see this fucking thing in person:

There are straight up 17 NPS stamps within a 10 minute radius of this beast.

Also I’m fixing to see this m’rf’cker as I cruise through Denver will my sun roof open and my left arm getting painfully charred from prolonged dangling out the window:

Photo (used without permission) courtesy of the incomparable Ashley Cunningham

Hopefully when we recreate this photo, I will be less hammered on Peach Schnapps. Or, rather, I hope that I will be able to hide it even a little bit better.

Other highlights of May include, but are not limited to: leaving this horrible, horrible motel, leaving the jerkwater Chili’s I work for in Carson City, Nevada (oh btw, Carson City is the biggest podunk crap heap of a city I’ve ever seen. Lots of ignorance, not a lot of good Indian food–> worst of both worlds) and returning happily to my home Chili’s in Barboursville, West Virginia, where I belong, among friends, slinging queso to hill people. If I’m ever asked to define irony, I’m going to cite the several months my co-workers in Nevada made fun of me for being a redneck (quick background on me: I was born in San Francisco and received a Bachelor’s of Fine Arts in New York City. I’m about as redneck as an interracial gay couple driving a Prius) when they themselves lived in Carson City, Nevada. Irony, folks! Also, I realize but don’t care if any of that made me sound pretentious. Normally I go to great pains to avoid sounding pretentious, because I’m actually pretty fucking all right, but in this case I don’t give two shits. Carson City is a complete butthole and I do not care who knows it. I guess we could add ‘never going back to Carson City’ to the list of great things about May 2012!

Other May highlights include the weather, which will probably be temperate and awesome, the release of the 12th Sookie Stackhouse book which I am going to shamefully devour in private, Mother’s Day (I’m not gonna get to spend this with my Mama, but hopefully you all will. Unless you and your mama don’t get along? If that’s the case then I’m sorry and I hope you guys can work it out), the potential for me to attend some West Virginia Power minor league baseball games, which I will do with gusto despite their being a farm team for the Pirates (yark).

Four more days of this hellish April shit show and May Magic kicks off! Can I get a fuck yeah?