Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Su-su-SUCIO

In case you haven't been following along with my photos or tweets from the AIDS LifeCycle, and were entertaining some misguided fantasy that we were living a life of luxury on the road - let me assure that we are not.

However, as a surprise to all, we have not yet been murdered in any of our shitbag MO-tels.

And let me tell you, they are the MO-telliest of Motels.

Well, one was an "Inn" but you know that just means "Shitbag Motel Where You Will NOT Be Walking Barefoot Even In The Shower. And Especially Not In The Shower."

Last night, when arriving at the MO-tel after his 107 mile bike ride, Bubba took one look around the grounds and into our room and broke into an updated-to-suit-the-situation version of Phil Collins' Sudio and changed the refrain to, "Su-su-sucio", which has had us laughing through gritted teeth for the last 24 hours.

For those of you non-Spanish speakers of the world, "sucio" means dirty.

And OH is this place suciO.

SuciO and bizarreO and hauntedO and creepyO and full of gangstasO and probably the scene of many crimesO and the current hand off point for a local gun running ringO - we're pretty sure.

If one hundred whores haven't met their end in this very room, I'd be shocked.

At least it is mostly full of transient cyclists from the ride and out of town contractors with bad taste in booze.

They still MAKE Mickey 40s?
And let's not forget the disturbing landscaping.
If any place were going to be haunted AND the scene of many homicides, this is the place.
But I don't want you to get the impression that the ride is all ugliness. It's not. The Mexican food we had for dinner last night was AWESOME (seriously, if you're ever passing through Greenfield, try La Fogata off the Walnut Ave exit - fantastic homemade tortillas and carne asada.) and there've been some very scenic moments - just not in Greenfield or King City.

How very sKEEnic.
I stopped off and visited our CSA farm yesterday, seeing as I was passing it on our way south and all, and cuddled up to a few of the farm's creatures.

Their farm dog toured me through the place. She is THE MOST.
The chickens had no desire to cuddle. Just peck. Still - cute.

Lots of cute baby goats to cuddle though.

Way too munchy to cuddle.
Cuddliest creature of them all!
Is he a frog? Is he a coral snake? Is he a bright shiny ass kicker? Who can tell.
So, Bubba's off to kick 66.7 miles of quadbusting hills and I'm off to:
  1. Get the FUCK out of this MO-tel of Horrors
  2. Taste some of Justin Vineyards' best
  3. Sample some of Pasolivo's finest
  4. Check into a less skeevey MO-tell (it's an "Inn", so we'll see)
  5. Eat some delicious din-din
Cross your fingers I get out of this place alive today.

10 comments:

  1. WOW to the landscaping photo. The mickey bottle was a nice touch too! Good luck and I am glad you are getting some wholesome fun in along the way.

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  2. I wish you would have smuggled a sheep for me. Or goat. I'm not picky, I'll take either. Or both.

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  3. Be sure an d keep a batO or clubO close by....love that dog! I look forward to the red tutu!

    xo

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  4. ps...also love the helmet ornament....I collect frogs!

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  5. You're so funny! I'm certainly hoping you made it out alive. Maybe you should have worn a helmet like Bubba's -- just for extra insurance!

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  6. Yeah, those are the kind of scary-ass dives A. always wants to stay in. I've stayed in more than my fair share of them. Once we stayed in one that had the nastiest bathroom I have EVER seen AND no floor. Really. No floor. We were walking around on the plywood sub-floor. It was in the Adirondack mountains and we landed in this town during their Lumberjack Festival (no, I could not make any of this up), so there was literally nowhere else to stay.

    In retrospect, I should have just slept in the car.

    I'm jealous of your Mexican food, though. And wine touring. Have fun! And, uh, have fun on those hills, Bubba.

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  7. Sounds scary! Did you bring your own sheets and blankets?

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  8. I love close-up-dog-nose pics!

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Look at you commenting, that's fun.

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