Jammin' to Hotlanta

I just spent most of last week and this past weekend playing musical cities. I helped my sister move to Atlanta, which required a stop in Maryland. Did I mention the 12.5 hour truck ride from Maryland to Georgia without the benefit of cruise control? Well, if I didn't mention it, then I just did. Huzzah!

Blessings should rain down on the person who invented cruise control... and a flurry of curses on the fool who decided not to put it in the moving truck. But at least the weather and the roads were clear, except, of course, in Maryland. Is there a perpetual gold brick giveaway in Maryland that no one's told me about? That's the only reason I could come up with for having heavy traffic at 7:00am.

The ride was mostly uneventful, save for proving that my sister either detests the last 15 seconds of every song or has musical ADD. I'm not quite sure which, but I am sure that she has quite an extensive and varied collection of "jams". Jay-Z: That's my jam! Barry Manilow: That's my jam! Led Zeppelin: That's my jam! Kenny G: That's m-- okay, let's be honest; Kenny G is no one's jam. Never the less, the woman has more jams than the diabetes aisle at Wal-Mart. Ironically enough, though, Pearl Jam is not her jam. Isn't that somethin'?

After developing a cavity during the 12.5 hour jam-attack, we moved her into her kickin' new house (which has tons of cabinet space for -- you guessed it -- jam). Chief among the things we moved in was what I have dubbed the Infinity Gumball Machine. This thing has survived literally countless moves, all the while keeping its original gumballs safe. This thing is so engrained in my memory that I can't remember a time when my sister didn't own this thing. I logically know that she bought it in college, so it can't be more than eight years old, but somehow it's in my memories of when I was three years old. This thing has surpassed logical space and time. More impressive than that, it's succeded in actually drawing Paddy O'Wife's evil eye. She has some weird irrational hatred for this thing. That's why I don't dress up like Santa Claus for Christmas; she might mistake me for a giant gumball machine and beat me to death with a step ladder! Ho ho -- Ow, call 911!!

But I digress.

So when all this was done, I was finally given my parole from hard labor and we toured parts of downtown Atlanta for a few hours. Wow, is that a nice city! It's spacious, relatively new (as far as large cities go), and clean! Even the supposed "bad areas" looked like they were part of some country club. How's a mugging go down in that area? "Excuse me, gentle people, might I have the time? And by that I mean I will take the timepieces you are wearing on your wrists by insinuating bodily harm if you choose not to comply with my demands. Thank you for your cooperation. Here is a receipt for tax purposes. Enjoy the remainder of your evening. Ta-ta!"

Anyway, congrats to my sister on her new house and her new city! When's the party? Oh, did I mention that you're going to have a party soon? Well, if I didn't mention it, then I just did. Huzzah again!

Atlanta's Most Wanted

Today is "Peanut Butter's Complement" Day! Jonathan Coulton: That's my jam!