Tim, Tom … so many men, so little time.
Oh. And then there’s MacD, my french fry source who I haven’t been ’round to see lately. Honest. Cross my cholesterol-aching heart. Long story. Suffice to say he’s done me way wrong.
Took a short trip this weekend. I’m sorry, the lady in the third row just asked ‘How short?’. Ma’am, it was 53 miles one way, 106 miles round trip. Yes, uh huh. Thank you for your question. Punch and cookies will be served in the back of the auditorium directly after my blog.
I said ‘directly after my blog’.
We have two GPS devices in our household and folks, I’ll be the first to tell you they are slammin’. Simply slammin’. I won’t get into the technical details of how they work. Well. Because that’s not in my area of expertise. But. Anytime I can plug in a simple address and a device is gonna get me there in one piece?
Y’all knew that was coming, didn’t you? I do have a few, shall we say, ‘issues’ with Ye Olde Electronic Map.
Yesterday we decided to change the voice preference for the Tom Tom. We’ve been listening to ‘Lori’ now for, oh say, 2,400 miles on our Disney-at-Christmas trip to Florida, so youngest son and I decided to shake things up a little.
Oh yes. Sometimes we are quite rebellious.
Touched the Tom Tom screen and five-or-ten-or-fifteen minutes later, I figured out how to change the voice. And y’all know what? It’s a crime how the manufacturer hides it under the Big-Red-Talking-Lips icon marked ‘Voice Preferences’.
Someone’s on their game. Oh yessire. I only snuck past it twenty or so times before I said, ‘Ah ha!’
You can dress Lisa up, but y’all know you can’t take her out.
Just for grins we decided we’d let ‘Richard’ guide us on our journey.
Okay. For real? We so wanted to have Sean The Irish Guy Who Spaketh Directions With A Charming Limerick Lilt to help us out. Then the wee lad and I, why we could pretend we were traipsing through the lush Irish countryside instead of the pot-hole-filled back roads of Michigan.
We imagined Happy GPS Sean would say things like …
Téigh go díreach! Ansin cas ar chlé / dheis!
(go straight then turn left / right)
Well. That would be rather confusing, doncha think? Really, Sean, which is it.
LEFT OR RIGHT?! Because it’s kinda important here.
Oh. Gosh. My personal favorite …
Cá bhfuil an (leithreas / chógaslann)?
(where is the bathroom / pharmacy?)
Because it would be just like me to leave home without some sort of prescription drug cocktail and on top of that, have to visit the bathroom in the Rite Aid.
Sadly. We needed a CD and a computer to download Sean. We happened to be lacking both on this particular trip.
Doesn’t anyone tell us these things before we leave home?
Quite frankly, I don’t remember ever seeing any CD in the GPS box. Nor instructions for that matter. But since I’m notorious far and wide for throwing away everything for the sake of being Eternally Neat and Tidy, I’m not going to swear on that.
In lieu of Sean, we have Richard.
As tired as we were of hearing Lori, I gotta tell y’all Richard was a rather frightening change of pace.
I am now a firm believer that there’s just something to be said for the soothing, melodic voice of an electronic woman. Because I’ll be dipped if everytime Richard spoke, youngest son and I both jumped.
I am so not kidding y’all.
Youngest son and I started to look at each other and giggle nervously.
‘He’s creepy, isn’t he?’
Big eyes. Head nod. ‘ Oh yeah.’
On cue with the map, Richard would say something like, ‘In 500 meters, turn right’.
I kept waiting for the other shoe to fall.
‘In 500 meters turn right.’
‘OR I’LL CUT YOUR HEART OUT WITH THE PLASTIC POTATO SALAD SPOON
YOU HAVE IN YOUR COOLER AND NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOUR BODIES.’
We were even fearful to turn off Richard. After all, he’s GPS.
He knows where we are.
Sixty-seven minutes later, we arrive at Lake Somerset. Remarkably, both of us in one piece. Or would that be two pieces since there were two of us? Something to ponder as you’re dozing off to sleep tonight.
And. Well. We did toss out the plastic potato salad spoon weapon somewhere along mile marker 52.
Just to be safe.
As we’re pulling into the beach area … thanks to the assistance of our Resident Serial Killer Richard … youngest son says, ‘Where is the picnic shelter? How far is it from where we have to park?’ I said, ‘Gee son, we’ll have to see when we get there. IN SIXTY SECONDS, GIVE OR TAKE FIFTEEN SECONDS.’
‘Because …’ youngest son goes on to say, ‘if it’s too far we can pull my bike out of the back of the van and I can ride my bike and YOU CAN STAND ON THE PEGS.’
I laughed so hard at the mental picture of that, I forgot all about Crazy Richard. And The Great Plastic Potato Salad Spoon Massacre of 2009.