Driving to Tahoe Stinks

I'm back.
It's been awhile.
I'm sure your all very upset. Those of you dying to find out what I have to say have been without my ramblings for nearly two months, or more than two months, or at least a period of time that would normally be inexcusable. But, since this is a blog, and everyone and their mother has one, and no one particularly seems to care, I think I can cut myself some slack about slacking off on my blogging duties.

But I'm back. For now. Just wanted to ramble on about .. well, you can read the title "DRIVING TO TAHOE STINKS." I mean, it really does.

A week and a half ago I had the opportunity to go to Lake Tahoe, to stay at a lovely home with some friends. I decided to drive, from Los Angeles. 6.5-7 hours .. no big deal it'd be worth it. On top of it all, I wouldn't be driving alone, I'd be accompanied by a very lovely, intelligent, charming, funny, and let's just say it --- hot woman who for some reason seems to like me quite a bit. That being said, there are worse things one can be doing for 7 hours.

So we drove. And drove. And drove. We made the requisite stops for gasoline, thankfull that I can only afford to drive a Honda Civic, because it only takes 9 gallons of gas to fill it up, and runs about as far on a gallon of gas as any non hybriddy type car can run. We made a brief stop for some bad fast food, no time to sit and eat, have to get to Tahoe, HAVE TO GET TO TAHOE.

Traffic - none.
Police incidents - none.
Fights with the girlfriend - none.
Time - ok, more than 7 hours there, but barely, not enough to bitch about it.

But it stank. OHHH IT REALLY STANK. Literally people. LITERALLY.
No, the fast food stop did not make me gassy.
No, we are not in the stage of our relationship where I feel we can comfortably pass gas in front of eachother without embarrassment - and the truth is, I don't think I ever want to be that comfortable with a woman where I will just let it rip with out being self conscious. Nor do I think I want to evaluate her gas passing abilities with a smile on my face.

No, the trip to Tahoe stinks because when you take the 5 (for those non Californians, we like to refer to our highways as "The 5" "the 405" "the 135" - now I grew up in Long Island, we didn't refer to our highways like that, we'd tell people to take a "route" or "highway something or other" or "interstate whatsitsnumber" but in California, everything is more important and special than the rest of the country and the world, so there you go) you pass through cattle ranches. Not dairy cattle ranches. Cattle ranches for cattle to be slaughtered. And let me tell you something, they stink. There's nothing to do about it, windows sealed shut, ventilation shut down, it smells like your swimming in shit, and piss, and blood, and guts and something fishy. OK, I'm not very good at describing the details of the aromatic assault, but its awful. Bloody, freakin, awful.

It's nothing like those California Cheese commercials with the Happy Cows. These cows aint happy. They are packed together like sardines, wallowing in their own filth, just lining up to be turned into hamburger.

Its a disgrace.

Won't keep me from eating meat. I'm just saying.

Perhaps I should be moved by this. Perhaps my displeasure at the treatment of these animals should make me do something, something more than rant about it. Something more than discuss merely the smell. Something like taking a stand. Like joining PETA. Like becoming a vegetarian. Like wearing only natural fibers, throwing away my leather panties. Truth is, only thing it makes me wanna do is NOT drive to Tahoe. Shit, I can fly to Reno and rent a car. Sure you have to go through Reno, but its not as bad as driving through cow shit ... or is it?


But the views, oh, the views are perfect. Look at the picture. BEAUTIFULL. And no, it didn't smell there at all. Though, I'm fairly certain, in some areas, I could catch the strong wiff of money, and distinct self satisfaction.