Down and Dirty

Americans are never satisfied. We want things bigger, faster, stronger. And we want it right now. Oh, and we want it to be fun. Really fun. And if possible we'd like to work in an excuse to chug a beer while we do it. Which all culminates in The Dirty Dash and all those other mud runs that have popped up all over the nation. Encouraging the notion that you can have it all and live the American dream. On a Saturday for an hour or so. Caked in mud.

I'm trying really hard to restrain myself from putting a reference to Deliverance right here. Oh good, you did it for me in your head without me even writing it. You're an awesome do-it-yourself reader!

But, I digress.

So, we show up, but fail to meet up with most of our team. Because it's enough to keep our own family together. Did I mention my husband has a wandering problem? I think I may have. Ok, so I wrote a whole post about that before. So I get a little spazy sometimes trying to round up all the kids in public places. (I think I have a little PTSD from living in Africa with two pretty blond daughters thing. Not that I don't fear for my boys welfare or anything, but at least they'd be the pimp in their new life.)

So anyway, we run the race. We have a great time. We get really muddy. We discuss whether there is actual feces mixed in with the mud that I think got into my mouth at one point. That and then some grotesque story about a lady who got a staph infection and had to have her legs amputated. So in other words, it was the perfect family afternoon of dirt and National Enquirer kind of dirt.

This is how we looked when we were done.



But, while the race is over, I haven't even gotten to the really dirty part yet. When we were done we were starving. So we searched for a place that we could go eat with the questionable smell of feces still lingering on us. So, after careful consideration, we decided Sonic would be just the place. Because we could get food fast and sit outside and eat and it would be well ventilated.

Except we never actually eat there. So we had no idea where one actually was. So, we used the GPS in our new car and found one. Turns out it's not too far from our house. But the best part? The dirtiest part of the whole freakin' day? Is this Sonic is right next to Bikini Xpresso. Yes, a drive thru coffee joint where your barista wears a bikini. NO, I'm not kidding! Did I mention I have a 13 year old son? NO, I'm not kidding! So guess who got this really awesome shot. And informed us she was wearing a thong bottom.

And yes, my son did all the investigative work on his own. It was just yesterday he told me I should be a reporter because of all the weird photos I take. But, I think the tabloids have turned. I mean tables. Of course.

Did you notice the cash only sign on the window? Cause I know that's what you were looking at in that photo. Now that's down and dirty. And the American dream all rolled into one.