Heading to LA

Aloha, folks!

Oops..sorry..that's our second leg of the trip, when we leave for Hawaii tomorrow,  

So what's the greeting in LA?

Hey dude..where can I score some meth?

OK, I know I have a ton to blog about, which is why I'm up at 6:00 AM to do just that, but why the hell did I mention the second LEG of my trip?

Because now all I can think about is that damn Sciatica! Sciatica! Sciatica!

I am taking some Oxy with me for our Water Brothers tour this morning, but only because I don't want the maid to steal it. She can steal the useless $600 meds for cleaning out my pipes, although after all-day starvation yesterday(which I'll detail in a minute) we took a recommendation to have the true California experience and an "In-and-Out" burger--which I'm pretty sure is a much more potent laxative than anything in a vial--and I can see how the dump it got its name. (pun intended)

I suppose there's no accounting for taste--I'm sure millions LOVE this fast food garbage.  I'm sure there are people when given a choice to quench a thirst with colonoscopy prep or sweet iced tea will choose the former.

OK..before I become a BUB(to refresh new readers:  "Brutally Untalented Blogger") let me move on from the contents of my bathroom shelf and bathroom habits to what's happening in my trip so far.  (Although Tami saw all the amber vials before we left and remarked that she thought she was walking into Charlie Sheen's house")

Ugh..come on Karen, people don't read you anymore anyway because of the length of these things, tell the important stuff, take a shower, and finish this blog.  No need to tell the story about how your Grandma Sarah once sprayed her stool sample with Jean Nate and the pathology report came back as abnormal with the inclusion of foreign substances, but I'm saying it anyway while we're on the subject of poop, which I always seem to be in these blogs.

I will try to be smarticulate as I attempt to get back on track:

Oh, and before you worry about me, I have the Oxytocin on hand for the leg pain, but I will not get addicted..it's not made out of salsa and chips.  I will not take it long enough to get addicted.

OK..OK!!  Damn you Karen..you are so distracted!  Stay on topic:

We wake up at 6:00 AM for a quick jaunt to Newark airport, knowing we were facing a long flight on sleep depravation, and a suitcase that was one pound overweight due to a shampoo bottle--or ten of them.  Jim repacked and saved $100--which is way too much to spend on clean hair.

You know me and limo drivers..the one that picked us up at 6:00 told us he had Donald Jr. in the same car once, so I stopped listening because how many celebs riding in cabs stories do you--or anyone else--need to read about?

Jim had me excited as we were walking to our eco-plus seats, knowing I'd have the window and he'd have the aisle and there's be nobody between us--except there was.

Because I am oblivious, I didn't notice what Jim did--that she wore a navy uniform and had wings and a name tag which meant she obviously works for United Airlines.  I was a little nervous at first--where the hell was my arm fat supposed to go??--but Collette was the ideal seat mate for such a long flight.  She fetches extra pillows! She fetches blankets! She shares horror stories about what life used to be like for flight attendants, how there'd be daily weigh-ins and these poor models had screwed up metabolisms and obesity issues when they aged out of the industry.

She brought hot sauce--knowing how crappy the clay-like eggs would taste without them (Little did I know then that the meal would have to sustain us for the next 12-14 hours!)

I tried to drift off, and succeeded..and dreamt of movie lines like "Who is Kayser Size?" and "I See Dead People."

And I soon wake up,  I'm thinking about Beautiful Downtown Burbank" and if you don't get that reference, you are way too young to be reading this.  

Go find a Kardashian on Instagram. 

Soon we're on the 405 and I'm looking for a white broncho. (Again, you are probably too young to be reading this, and I only recognized the route because of the overpass)

We had a very entertaining Uber driver take us to our current residence, The Garland Hotel, named not for Judy but for Beverly Garland, and once again, you are way too young.

And this blog is way too long and I've said nothing substantial yet--so let me get back on track and write Part Two.