Pre-Ireland: The Birth of a Blog

So to start:  I got friends.  I've got good friends.  Friends who want to keep up with my anti-social ass while I am not in America.

Here's my crew:

Is it un-classy that it goes outside of the lines.  I don't care.  My crews takes better pictures when someone else is doing it.

Take for example all these pictures of previous adventures which I pirated off of facebook that I didn't take.

 

See much better pictures when someone else is at the helm.

 

Now.  On my last day in the states, Blood Thirsty Wench, Red Mary informed me that if I did not chronicle my crew-less adventures in Ireland she would quelch the head of my darlin' between her thumbs.  Actually, I made that up.  She suggested it in a very point of the fact way, but I wanted to liven it up a bit.  Anyway it put the idea in my head and all the way from her house to Stockton I was thinking about what I would write in a blog to home.

 

Actually I made that up too.  This is what I was thinking of on the way to temporary home port as chronicled by First Mate Dirty Bess Read:

 

Love Slave in a Digny's Directions to Port Stockton translated from man-writing:

Left onto Farnsworth, cross RT 130 ({with weird slash symbol} passing Shell Gas station).

At next traffic light turn right onto 206 South.

Go 18 miles; at traffic circle stay and follow sigh @ 206 South.

Go 18 miles. {Why the hell are the miles symetric?  Doesn't that freak you out, Red Mary?}

Turn left onto Rt 30 E White Horcs {we assumed horse} Pike.  You should find Stockton {magically, it will appear}.

 

Actually journey:

Love Slave in Digny {who's possibly been promoted...}: Yeah, just go down that way, past the circle of death and if you can't find Stockton from the pike, you never went to Stockton.

First Mate Bess {Who really should be Capt. by now}: Awesome!

Capt. Thom {who is utterly content with her rank and has no desires what-so-ever to be Admiral}: Fair winds and a fast passage to ye all.  We'll meet up for Sugar Fries in a year!

[to Dirty Bess]What the hell does Digny-boy mean if you can't find Stockton from the Pike you never went to Stockton?  We can from the other directon.

First Mate: Yeah I know!  He's assuming I don't get lost when I walk out the door.

Capt.: I'm sure we'll find it!

First Mate Bess: I'm an excellent navigator!  Now about this circle of death...

 

And so with eternal optimism, we set sail towards the circle of death.  Actually, we had to do a k-turn first...

First Mate: Capt.  did you just hit that mercades?

Capt.: No!

First Mate: Why is there a dent in it then?  And that guy waving his hands and chasing-

Capt.: I reject your reality and substitute my own.

First mate: Gun it!

We didn't think to take pictures until later but first circle of death looked something like this:

 

 

Capt. thought the Beedy-Eyed Evil Children were the worst until we saw the shopping carts looming ahead.  Notice also, there is no exit to the circle of death.  Once we got swept in, it took both our formidible wits to figure out we had to fly over the cute squirrel.  Brave adorable soul showing us the way.

We crossed easily from there over Farnsworth.  He appeared old and helpless, but judging by the broken telephone poles, he was probably once a worthy opponent.

We passed the light with a river of brightly colored, yet smelly cars.  At which point, a mercades named Zev tried to kill us. Here I drew this picture:

We successfully navigated the river and turned right at the crossroads (206 s.).  Capt. celebrated by playing the songs of the people she will soon be studying.  Ah, the songs of my kin.  We then found groupies of red cars which the capt. was inexplicably excited about.

Capt: Look Bess!  Another red convertable!

This distraction was nearly as dangeroung at the first circle of death.  I am battening down the hatches in preparation for a possible second circle of death coming in the next 18 miles.

 

5 minutes later.

We have passed under the road of the rising sun.  Very pretty.  Now we are passing corn crops.  Possible stop for snacks?  We have also passed the National Union for Brick Layers where my artistic muse called to me again:

 



Passing a forest of Dwarf Trees.  Almost face planted on dash-board.

Sign selling farmers. (I'll take two.)

 

Poppy feild!  We're passing a poppy feild!  oh, the fun...
That's a "Wa" Stupid rich kids.
 A truck in front of us has a sticker for "billet slave support".  We see a farmer's market, a puppy farm, the pond store, and corn for sale.  We can buy farmers, puppies, ponds, and corn. Who know capitalism could get so extrmeme.

10 minutes later
Capt: There are too many U-turns.  We are being warned.
First Mate: About the Impending Circle of Death, me thinks.
Capt: aye.  I look forward to it.  Otherwise, we are in the sea of nothing for forever.
First mate: That's bleak, Capt.
Capt: Pinelands Center of Collision!  Hold on!

There are not pictures to document this part of our adventure as we were dodging the things trying to collide with us.  In the end, we sucessfully evaded everything.  Huzzah!

1 day later.
We have contined into the sea of nothing.

2 days later.
I tried looking at the ad for the solar electric building, but the sun was in my eyes, seriously.

3 days later.
We passed the Red Lion Motel.  There was no red lion.  Actually, there was no lion of any color.  Grr.

One week passes.
We are entering a strange part of the sea of nothing... or else the madness had gotten to us.
We have seen recruitement signs for an army of children, known in these parts as the Tumbling Tots.  They accept only children from the ages of 18 m to 5 yrs... I dread to think of what happens to those who age out...
We passed a store selling Happy Tales.  We thought to stop in and be regailed, but one does not simply leave the sea of nothing.  We also resisted the call of Floral Fantasy and the Star Deli.  The Capt. says eating the stars is tricky business and morally ambiguous, therefore best to be avoided.

A year passes.
The second circle of death!  We've finally reached it.  It only had one shark and not nearly as many shopping carts.  Our previous experience allowed us to jump onto the street we needed even without
the guide of the super-cute squirrel.

We approched the Do Not Pass sign... and passed it.

Two years into the journey.
A beacon of home, today.  We passed Tuckerton Rd.  Alas, we are not in Tuckerton.  I try my hand at Haiku:

 

Shamong.

I smell skunk.

I fail....

Capt: Did the Digny-man warn us about any of this nonsense?
First mate: It's been two years... I don't remember.
Capt: That is the last time I take directions from a love slave.  Seriously... what were you thinking letting me do that?
First mate: *yawns* what?
Capt: Don't worry about it.  Go to sleep.
First mate: Aye, aye.
Capt: Holy cow, an enormous monkey!
First mate: What where?
Capt.: Over there.  You missed it.

5 years into the adventure.  Captain has grown an epic beard.  I'm tired of fish.  We pass a conservatory, but more of the trees are burned.  Out of respect, the Capt. shaved her epic beard.
Amoung the burned trees is the outpost diner.
I then drew a picture of the capt. (who then read my mind.

 

 

 2 years later
Another beacon of home.  We have passed the Red Barn Cafe and Pie Shop.  They are very good.  I remember it distantly...

1 year later
We are now passing the yard where statures go to die... x_x

A week later
I hear but do not see to popo.

3 days later
We have arrived at White Horse Pike!  Does this mean I can find Stockton? hmm.
Capt.: You better.  I'm a captain. not a navigator.
First Mate: I can barely navigate to my own home.
Capt: Was that a sign for Classic Feet Tuxedos?
First Mate: All I see is another's farmer's market.
Capt: The Farmer's Daughter.  They're selling sluts.

2 days later
Mossmill road.  Was therre a mill for moss at one time?  Mulch world.  Did they put the mill of moss out of business?  So many questions on the sea of nothing.

1 day later
A baloon man flipped us off.

1o minutes later
Cart Master + Son.

We pass another statue graveyard.  Is Medusa in South NJ?
Capt.: Nimhe Sushi!
First mate: Darmstadt.
Capt.: Nimhe Sushi!
First mate: Faith comes by hearing...
Capt: Nimhe Sushi!
First mate:The sun is going to bed.
Capt: Nimhe...
First mate: Heading SE in Egg Harbor City 7:12 pm 75 Degrees F. On August 26, 2012
Capt.:Sushi!
And then:
STORYBOOK LAND!
We're home!  At last, we're home.

Gotta love the First Mate's Stream of Consciousness
It was re-reading this chronicale of our last adventure for a year and looking at the pictures I had just taken at Princeton, that I decided to attempt to keep track of myself while in Ireland.  In the interest of keeping in contact with friends... and humor... and sanity, maybe.