You know where you stand in a...

Nashville, originally uploaded by Ancodia.

ok, ok...I'm kidding. I like Nashville. No, rilly. Even though I'm a reformed goth girl. They have a weird public access station there (is it ch 19?) that has some tres-way-weird stuff on it. I guess that makes up for some of the god-awful country music.

Speaking of which, I forced Meg to sit through the Country Countdown, and we heard (if I remember the name correctly) "Billy's Got His Beer Goggles On", as well as some song that was just so godawful that I thought it was a joke about some girl who wants to win the lottery and sit in a limo and drink honey from a pickle jar. WTF? I proposed to Meg that this was metaphorical, and spent a few hours trying to think of what it could be a metaphor *for*. I'm still dry on that one, but god was that memorable. Sigh.

So the last time we were in Nashville, it was because Meg was a lecturer at Vanderbilt. No, seriously. That sort of thing is what Meg does when she's not grumping at me, giving pop quizzes to her students, or trying to win a WSOP bracelet. And she says *I* should focus. HAH!

Butsoanyway.

So the last time she was there, I went also because I was owed vacation from Eviljob (this is pre-job sharing & my current program), and I had nothing better to do. Plus, I know someone who went insane in Nashville, so I wanted to see it. No, rilly. And I wanted to see Meg talk, even though I was asleep in five mins. The things Meg talks about are boring as hell. No, rilly. So instead of also staying for Meg's even more boring friends to talk, I told her she was great and went shopping. :-) That's what Ancodias do best! I bought a Vandy shirt (and one for her) in the bookstore, then had to move on to bigger game: a very cool soon-to-be Dead Mall, and part of Opry Mills. But the point is that I spooged on my Vandy shirt beyond Zout repair because I have my pig moments, so I wanted to get another one. Guess what Meg said?

Exactly: No time.

Beyotch.

She told me that if I said one more word about it, she would make me ride in the trunk.

Grumpy beyotch.

She was just pissed at me 'cos I took the Path of Least Resistance and booked us into the same place we were the last time we were there. Meg hated it then, and she hated it this time. My theory is that we knew where it was, it is safe enough, not expensive, clean enough, and we were only going to be there for one night. So who cares? Well, Meg.

Oh, whatever. She's mastered the zen of anger. :-) Giggle.

While we were there, we saw a bar called "Bar". It's kind of across the street from the Hard Rock, next to a restaurant I really liked but can't remember the name of. Meg and I tried to go there (the Restaurant of The Forgotten Name) to eat, but they were closed. But Bar reminded me of this restaurant near where a friend of ours (more hers than mine) teaches that I don't think *has* a name--just a big sign out front that says, "CHICKEN". Everyone calls it "Chicken". I told Meg that she never takes me anywhere nice, like Bar or Chicken. Meg offered to drop me off at Bar and come back for what was left of me later. I declined.

Beyotch.

And of course, No Shopping. Hmmph.