Tales from Licking County

Small Rock

Prologue : Ovek had the privilege of providing entertainment at a PNU rally this past weekend. However though, before actualizing his narration on paper, there is a pending oration from notes taken in Licking county, Ohio.

Logue : Licking County. Indeed, some County Board or worse still, some municipal baptismal priest gave Einsteen a run for his ching-ching by christening some county in Ohio with this title. I could only ponder the origins of the name; any attempts on mental sharing could be misconstrued as risque or lewd material, so consider that topic prematurely assassinated. Twas that time of year that the 500 odd miles of PA asphalt that lie between NJ and Columbus bear no obstacle to mining the treasures of the city within a countryside. Columbus, like most countryside cities, is where the very eloquence of mother nature gets subdued by the concrete jungle that separates the owners of John Deere tractors from the kind of Johns who call each other 'Dear.' Haaaaaaaaaay. Not that 'sexually alternative' society members do not dot the country landscape, it's their notable prevalence on some downtown 'Main' street, as ironical as it sounds - that I make reference to. Aaaaanyhway, Columbuslings as accertained by this brief voyage are not your average basket of apricots, but whatsover though - we cannot speak of them before we cover the little occurences transpiring before we set eye on them.

First. PA. What the (expletive) is this damn waste of land all about ? Aside from people who take pleasure from scraping 'Bambi' off Routes 81 and 76, why else would anyone live in a state where all towns are called something-berg. Mathree drivers should come for training in PA; if they go 30min without killing a deer then they get the stripes. Aside from that, I'm all for sending geographers to medical school so they can perform some liposection or a nip-tuck to remove this hideous devoid overgrown shamba from our midst, maps, googlemaps and Garmins. Respectively, but not particularly in that chronology. When your next exit is 320 miles away and 97.1 FM (not to be automatically labelled Hot97) plays the kind of music you see playing with the likes of Bonnie Raitt on CMT then you know that you is far from everywhere. Jehovah knows, the iPod's podcasts along with the 30 gigs of playlist had proportionally ebbed as the tarmac between the 'Pala and NJ increased. 'Inverse proportionality' some bookworms would daringly chime. For y'alls not already in the know, the 'Pala is a cruisemobile that is under no circumstances to be called a Malibu; unless you want to get berated in fiery kyuk by the owner. Enter Carlisleberg, PA where we need more gas for those 320 miles. As we roamed around for some 'consumables' it felt strange to be in a town where they have erected a drive-through liqor store. What ? Can you S-P-E-L-L ... 'T-R-A-B-O-L' ? Why would anyone sell ... oh, almost forgot this was PA. But wait ; before you pack up your Samsonites, Coach bags and box up your valuables, it does transpire that this is not the drive-through that we have all come to know and love; you know where you Drive-order-pay and come-Through for your hungry self. Their setup was more like - Drive-Through the front Entrance and Park at the loading zone. Exit vehicle. Sambary needs to make a trip outside their Localberg and see how the rest of the planet does it. Aaaaanygwaaaay, to my sheer astonishment and proportionately utter dismay the man at the counter rips out a loud gaseous TMI through his rear exit and rubs his belly. I figured this is how they said 'Hi' in this neck of the woods since I heard no 'howdy, guy', 'hawaya, braau' or 'Howze-it-henging. Dude.' Oh, and these a here sides, the mano operates the register while the womano fetches consummables from the storage foye and ferries them ashoulder top to the customer mobiles. It is my wish that she doesn't shed the pants when they get to the humble place called home.

Second. Still in awe from the drive-through, the wanton flatulence, and the who-wears-the-pants in Drivethroughberg, the voyage to our pre-final stop was seemingly colorless, kinda like a KKK convention .... ooops that slipped out. So we get to this place called Wawa, and suffice to say I was clueless why they called it that; until I set foot in the interior and screamed "Waaaaaaawa." This place sold e'thing and I mean Nakumatt looks like a popcorn stall compared to this behemoth monstrosity of a gas station. My eyes darted aimlessly, that's the brake fluid, aha there's the eyeglasses section; ok the T-Shirts are right by the bakery, DVD players and off course DVDs in that corner, male underwear but no female underwear; Why not ? I could have sworn I saw a female trucker running over some Bambi in PA; 'oh' this is OH (no pun, I swear on the King James edition), so let me digress. This is me digressing, first, by the way, Haaaala. This place was a cross between Starbucks, Jiffylube, Jemma Loan, Pearlvision, Exxon-Mobile and Victor's secret (make note for biz idea. A place that sells guy-thongs only - how you dzoin !!!) So Miss two-teeth-how-can-I-help-you-fellaz is grinning from end to end waiting to serve us hand and foot. You see there's a reason I called this the pre-final stop. We reckon that before chiming the doorbell at the final stop, we freshen up a little so we don't look like a pair of vagabonds. Since in this town having more than 2 front teeth is sooo-last-season, it came as no surprise that she recommended a can of RedBull when I informed her we needed to freshen up. What ? Redbull ? to freshen up ? Dunno 'bout you but my interview with her was over. No more questions. I've only sat in a car for 9 hours, I cannot have anytime for this drama, or her friend who suggested we could make Jagerbombs by mixing the Redbull with Jagermaster. Enough of this, who are these people ? See you at Club Studio Pub 161, Columbus where you can share more bartending tips as we discuss opening a drive through morgue for dead deers, off course over a Jagerbomb or whatever you think you can mix with your 'Bull."

Club 161 : Hypothetically, theoretically and comprehensively speaking if you don't stick in your lane a semi will run you over. My word may fall short of gospel truth, but don't try it at home either; find a happy place in the middle and have some Redbull. On me. The club's entrance only needed red carpet to complete it's mysterious sophisti-classinessity. Unlike these East Coast clubs adorned with Pill-Popping, Gymna-socialists, with shoulders that look like they were created in HDTV, the bouncers in this joint actually looked like bouncers, they didn't even need those cute little Black Tees that say "S'Cuuurity" in the back. It's the "Columbuslings" that offered me less than a bargain. After setting up the tools of the trade, my eyes catch a herd of Jungu-esses in the corner talking about 'oh my God,' whatever they talk about. Perfect , I got me my Britney, my Blink 168, some Nickelback, Jessica Simp. I was ready to put their evening in high gear. "Gimme Gimme" roared through those JBLs like Britney was trying to move furniture. Alas, these peeps did not even butt an eyelid. Whatever the effing-ever, this is too new. Lets scale it down, let's move that timeline back a little something, some Backstreet oughta fix that leak. "Tell me why ...." Nothing still. This was like jump starting a wheelbarrow. No sooner had I started breaking a sweat than the herd-leader walk my way and request "souljaboy." After getting re-assurance that my Q-Tips were doing their job, I place that number. You needed to have seen it. The wangotso chics were popping their rears like epilleptic rhinos. Goodness, you columbuslings sure don't stay in lane here. No more experiments over here. Some T.I, Chamellionaire, more T.I and it was all good with them 'lings. The rest of the night went down like 2 jagerbombs and a Kamikaze. Smooth.

The Ripple

Epilogue : After all the weekends activities, it dawned on us that we had not had a weekend yet. That has everything to do with why I have one less personal day. As fate would have it, Saturday and Sunday, had to be condensed into Monday, along with all the activities that fill up the weekend. Come nextober this shall be repeated. I'm riding this thing till the wheels come off. Keep 'em peeled for the PNU affair. Watch out for 'em Bambis they're moving to NJ, kinda like moving from Newark to the Hamptons for safety.