Marc
Direct Con(?) Bravo: This condition is declared when an increased and more predictable threat of terrorist activity exists. Even though no particular target has been identified, the measures in this threat con(?) must be capable of being maintained for weeks without causing undue hardships, excepting operational capabilities, and aggravating relations with local authorities. -- a message played on constant repeat on AM1640 outside of Jackson, NC
Charleston, South Carolina
One. Worked -- which depends on your definition of work, to be honest -- for nearly fourteen hours today. That was not enough. I need to work fifteen or more every day to feel financially secure. A nice six hour workday plus a pleasant little nine hour drive through the Carolinas and Tennessee and that tiny tip of Missourri into Arkansas would suffice for me. Just something to keep me on the clock longer.
Two. So tired I can hardly see straight anymore. Have realized that I like dial-up internet connections just about as much as I like being tickled. If you knew me, you would know that I don't like being tickled all that much. I compare it to what I think it must be like to being shot. Though, when I think about it, I would wager that 50 Cent wouldn't find that comparison all that intriguing.
Three. Freaked out at how excited I was to cross the North Carolina/South Carolina state line this evening. First, I got excited as I saw the line, just like I did when I was a kid and we would cross the Indiana/Kentucky state line on our way to DisneyWorld. "Look! Look! The STATE LINE!" Second, reprimanded myself profusely. It was lame first and foremost because I'm too old and have been to too many states to actually get excited about crossing state lines. It was made lamer by the fact that it was only from one Carolina into another Carolina which really, when you think about it, shouldn't count.
Four. Speaking of states. I may write something similar here next week as I'll be in both North and South Dakota, and if I write anything else about excitement whilst crossing state lines, I give everyone I know permission to punch me in the stomach once. I'm tired of being so lame. I need help. Either that or a good hair-washing. So greasy.
Up Next: Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys; The Very Best of ... by Otis Redding; and, You Are A Ghostly Presence by the Mt St Helens.
Tomorrow: SC to GA.
Direct Con(?) Bravo: This condition is declared when an increased and more predictable threat of terrorist activity exists. Even though no particular target has been identified, the measures in this threat con(?) must be capable of being maintained for weeks without causing undue hardships, excepting operational capabilities, and aggravating relations with local authorities. -- a message played on constant repeat on AM1640 outside of Jackson, NC
Charleston, South Carolina
One. Worked -- which depends on your definition of work, to be honest -- for nearly fourteen hours today. That was not enough. I need to work fifteen or more every day to feel financially secure. A nice six hour workday plus a pleasant little nine hour drive through the Carolinas and Tennessee and that tiny tip of Missourri into Arkansas would suffice for me. Just something to keep me on the clock longer.
Two. So tired I can hardly see straight anymore. Have realized that I like dial-up internet connections just about as much as I like being tickled. If you knew me, you would know that I don't like being tickled all that much. I compare it to what I think it must be like to being shot. Though, when I think about it, I would wager that 50 Cent wouldn't find that comparison all that intriguing.
Three. Freaked out at how excited I was to cross the North Carolina/South Carolina state line this evening. First, I got excited as I saw the line, just like I did when I was a kid and we would cross the Indiana/Kentucky state line on our way to DisneyWorld. "Look! Look! The STATE LINE!" Second, reprimanded myself profusely. It was lame first and foremost because I'm too old and have been to too many states to actually get excited about crossing state lines. It was made lamer by the fact that it was only from one Carolina into another Carolina which really, when you think about it, shouldn't count.
Four. Speaking of states. I may write something similar here next week as I'll be in both North and South Dakota, and if I write anything else about excitement whilst crossing state lines, I give everyone I know permission to punch me in the stomach once. I'm tired of being so lame. I need help. Either that or a good hair-washing. So greasy.
Up Next: Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys; The Very Best of ... by Otis Redding; and, You Are A Ghostly Presence by the Mt St Helens.
Tomorrow: SC to GA.
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