Living Dead in Dallas

Sorry Charlene Harris, but I think it was perfect to describe my trip to Dallas a few weeks ago.

So shortly after I started my new job, my work told me that I needed to go to Dallas for a few days for training.  I figured why not, and went, because I wouldn’t be allowed to work at my awesome new job unless I was trained and certified.

So while I was waiting for my flight, I had a beer, and was waiting and waiting to find out that my flight was canceled.  I’ve mentioned before how driving to Dallas has ended in my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, but my coworker, who is a pretty awesome guy, found out that we would be reimbursed for gas and he offered to drive.  Which was great for me because if the car broke down, it wouldn’t be mine.

Naturally, I had to prank Alex and my mom because I was driving to Dallas alone with a man.  And I had a beer in my system.

I call Alex first and put him on speaker phone.  The conversation went like this.

Alex: Hello?

Me: Hey honey, so I got drunk and some random guy kidnapped me and is dragging me to Dallas.  I’m probably going to die from either murder or Ebola.  Hope that’s okay.

Alex:… What?

Me:  Well the flight was canceled so I was drinking and my coworker is kidnapping me to Dallas and you’re never going to see me again.

Alex: WHAT?!

Me: It’s all good though, he won’t rape me because he’s gay.

Alex: Ugh, fine, let me know when you get to Dallas*

Then I called my mom next.  That woman is a hard woman to rattle and I told her that I was drunk and being kidnapped and she just said, “Okay, be safe!”  It was rather disappointing.

Halfway to Dallas, we decide to stop and get some Mexican food in Canton.  I’ve mentioned how I’ve had some bad experiences in Canton before, but this time the Mexican restaurant had a church on top of it and I got to touch a giant cock.

Take that, Bloggess

Take that, Bloggess

 

Once we were back on the road, we got lost after getting to Dallas and after making the same turn about six times, we found our hotel.

After training the next day I enjoyed a margarita and a walk with Jesus, and this time  I didn’t make a total and complete fool of myself like the last time I walked with Jesus.  I felt the drinks were necessary in order to enjoy Texas.

Our last afternoon in Dallas, we got out of training early and decided to explore the mall.  I have to say, Grapevine Mills mall in Irving is fucking fantastic.  It has everything.

Even ass fire.

Even ass fire.

However, there was one particular store that left me very confused.  The store was called “Heroes” and it was a store that sold military paraphernalia, airsoft guns, camo, hunting knives, so on and so forth.  They even have a website.

To say the least, this store screamed, “MURICA!”  Not even “America.”  Just ‘Merica.

The main thing that confused and scared and awed me was the mannequins.  The mannequins displaying the women’s clothing were taller than me (I’m 5’8), they had DDD boobs, and their pants were low rise and it was all camo.

Words can't even describe my confusion

Words can’t even describe my confusion

SeriouslyTexas, what the fuck is with this?  Why do the mannequins need to have huge boobs?  Why can you see the fucking nipples of the mannequin?

My coworker and I just stared at the mannequin for a few minutes, just in stunned silence.  We were so confused.  I like to think I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin, but the fact that this mannequin made my boobs look like less than mosquito bites and the fact that this clothing was so… ‘Murican, I had no idea what to make of it.  So I took a picture and moved on.

The next morning was our last morning in Texas, and I couldn’t be happier to go back to my little house.  I missed Alex and Texas has this obsession with the shape of it’s state that was weirding me out.  And I lived in Alaska for heaven’s sake.

         

Seriously?  A fucking Texas shaped waffle

Seriously? A fucking Texas shaped waffle?

So I made it home and I’ve been working so much that every muscle in my body aches and I just want to crawl under a rock and die.  It’s fucking awesome.

 

Have you ever gone on a business trip that went better than expected?  Ever been somewhere where the culture just confused the hell out of you?  Have you ever eaten hot sauce that made you fart fire?  Let me know in the comments!

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9 thoughts on “Living Dead in Dallas

    • But I do have to say that Minnesotans are definitely taller than Texans. Yeah, Texas is a litle wider, but I was easily four inches taller than every girl I met there. The only people who were my height or taller were midwestern.

      I don’t think the south understands the awesomeness of a corn-based diet. And potato based.

      CORN AND POTATOES MAKES YOU GROW BIG AND STRONG!

      • Eh what? The South loves their grits, which is most definitely corn.

        And anyone in the South that’s Latino, well, of COURSE they gotta have corn. And potatoes? Well, I dunno about Mexico, but see, potatoes came from Peru. Ya dig? Potatoes CAME FROM SOUTH AMERICA.

      • Well, I told you I’m mostly Danish– two of my sisters can pretty much look me dead in the eye, and I’m 6’1″. People comment all the time about how tall my kids are, but I say, “That’s nothing– you should see my younger sister’s (#2) kids. She’s 6’0″ and my bro-in-law is like 6’4″. I guarantee my niece and nephew will be taller.”

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