If you need the link to the State of Tennessee Novel Coronavirus Website, it's here.
Weekend before last, a half-dozen woo girls stayed at the rental next door, and they lived up to the Nashville bachelorette reputation. All three nights of their stay, a different wakeboard rig pulled by a different truck with a different bunch of boys came swaggering up from the marina about dark-thirty.
From the front window, Jack spotted a guy peeing behind the car and hit the door locker on the car - beep beep - because sometimes you just need to say, "hey, dude. Really?"
We had no real interaction with them all weekend, but when they checked out on Monday, they left us a souvenir.
Jack had picked up some vegetables from our friend Michael early in the day, so when I spotted something out by the road, I thought it was a squash.
Yeah. Uh, no. Not a squash. And confirmation of the Nashville woo girl narrative we'd run with all weekend.
When I shared this video on Facebook, it was a big hit. My friends needed a reason to laugh, and I gave them one.
Jack wanted to kick it back over into the yard next door, but my creative bent was calling out to do another video, this time focused on throwaway culture and the quest to destroy white male patriarchy, as depicted by a beige plastic water pistol shaped like a penis.
I'm ready for the festival circuit.
