Just a Small-Town Girl

Somewhat arbitrarily on Wednesday afternoon, I made the decision to drive from New York to Detroit. With my cat.

I learned a lot of new things during this journey:

1. Dunkin' Donuts is THE hangout in Bensonhurst at 3am
2. This City was indeed built on Rock'n'Roll - just the bad, Bon Jovi kind
3. Apparently, cats don't like to travel in a small box for 12 hours - mine channeled Linda Blair and I had to inform her there was no way I was going to put my hands in there under the circumstances. So I opened the back, rear windows so my ride didn't smell like cat lady. Meow.
4. Going 80mph in Pennsylvania is a very expensive folly.
5. Pennsylvania was also built on bad Rock'n'Roll. Although I caught some Vampire Weekend out of Penn State, which was sweet.
   
6. I've never, in 31 years, been so excited to be in Ohio
7. I can't believe I have to drive back.

Of course, Detroit=slave labor, but I ran across some of the worst, teenage writing imaginable. So I thought I would mortify my 17 year-old self by posting some of it. Since this blog is only marginally moving towards literacy. My brother, Jermois DuPre, threatened my life if I posted some of his Type-O Negative tinged writing - so OF COURSE I'm going to put some up. I think I'll put them under the [Poetry] heading, although real poets are probably drowning their muse in cheap absinthe at the thought.

Non-sequitor: Hrm... my niece is currently making out with a rubber ducky in the bath. I never thought I would hear my mother say the following: You love that ducky? You kiss that ducky?... Oh! You hurt your tongue...