Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Cruising Down the Freeway in the Hot, Hot Sun

Yes the title is a reference to the song that you think the title is referencing (but isn't that always the case?)

Today I took my little baby car out for a spin on the beautiful, well-paved streets of greatest New Jersey. And I realized, Hey, Thailand isn't the only place in the world with ridiculously named businesses (avid readers (this one goes out to my day-one fans!) may remember Q-Bone and the House of Male homo-spa (is that offensive?)).

Evidence A: an Italian restaurant advertising Mother's Day specials: "After all, Mom deserves the best." Even if this restaurant weren't located in a crumbling brick shanty next to a discount liquor store, I still think you would have a hard time finding many mothers who would define a $9.99 fettucine specials (with free dinner rolls!) as being the best.

But maybe I'm just elitist.

Evidence B: Not two miles from each other on Morris Ave. are two diners--The Mark Twain Diner and the Huck Finn Diner. Imagine my surprise when, after chuckling at the idea of a Mark Twain Diner, not three minutes later, on my right side, I passed a Huck Finn Diner. The Mark Twain Diner alone was silly, but when I saw the Huck Finn Diner, I parked the car, popped in the front door, and said, "Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I Sawyer author's restaurant down the road!"

And then the Turkish owner punched me in the face and told me never to come back.

Evidence C: At ShopRite, the 80 year old man walking in front of me in the vinegars section farted on me twice. He didn't seem too worried about it, so I didn't worry about it either.

I guess that wasn't really evidence of anything I was arguing for (Objection, Your Honor! Sustained, My Cousin Vinny!), but it is evidence that I am back in America, because as we all know, Thai people don't fart.

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