Wheedle in My Rearview

The squirrel is trying to use his metaphorical “nut” to move your butt. I thought I had made this perfectly clear.

Now that Logan and Grey are older, Haley’s baby-scalping tendencies aren’t such a concern.

AS PER MY PLAN, I stayed up all night, skinny-dipping at William’s.

Somebody is doing a brisk business selling embroidered patches which read “Helmet Laws Suck”.

So we sped into Chicago singing along to Led Zeppelin- “Goin’ to Chicago… Going to Chicago… Sorry but I can’t take you…” which is probably like some life goal of mine that I hadn’t realized before.

“I will not eat at any restaurant that urges me to visit their ‘World Famous Gravy Bar’.”

Like Harvey Keitel in “Bad Lieutenant” I wanted to bust a cap in that damn radio’s ass, but I kept my service revolver holstered and we eventually arrived in Washington, D.C.

If you plan on staying at the Courtyard Marriott in Washington, D.C., make sure you request the “adult-size” sheets. Otherwise, they may give you the baby sheets.

On our journey across these United States, Max and I drove over 3600 miles. Now, if Max hadn’t drifted off onto I-94, that number would be about 250 miles lower, but still: That’s quite a drive.

I have come to believe that the resident in Unit 73 – in clear violation of Regency Park Community Association policy – is operating a breeding and training facility for Mexican fighting dogs, or else some kind of long-term boarding kennel for incontinent llamas.