There is this thing called FOB (festival of the babes). Its an enormous all womens soccer tourney. I went a few weekend ago, and oh, how the story begins.
About an hour out of San Francisco (after driving half way around the city for banks, coffee, food, etc) trucking along the straight away, moo cows on one side and tractors and trucks on the other, our tire pops. Wait, no. MY tire pops. Yep. Worn down to the, to the, to the whatever you call it. Basically it looked like complete shit. Like someone had taken a saw and went to town on that rubber. I was quite impressed with myself. I didn't freak out much, just coasted to the median, knowing in my head that I was about to be out a lot of money ($120 per tire to be exact).
Good thing I had 3 "butch" women in the car with me, b/c damn, I knew nothing. And really, Pfenning didn't either. We were content taking pictures and basking in the boiling sun, while Max and Mary got our shit together.
Long story short this very nice gentleman stopped for us, let us use his AAA (My name is now AnnaGene, or NormaGene, or BetsySue), he gave a lift to some of our possy to the nearest town (Winters, CA). If you ever stop there visit the Diner (I think the only one in town), they have one of the best French Dip, and BBQ sandwiches one could ask for. The decor is to die for as well.
An hour later and we were on our way. Rejuvinated to sing 10hours worth of songs. Which mostly consisted of Kelly Clarkson and The Killers. I don't know how my speakers aren't blown.
Now, the blow up doll portion of the Subject Heading must be saved for another day. Or told in a form that my grandchildren can't trace years from now.