what fresh hell is this?

when we got to the farm, the absolute terror on my mom's friend's face was priceless. her eyes widened to the size of saucers when she saw this old man slowly shuffling out of his decaying house, waving. say hello to your future husband!

she knew he was an older man but she didn't realize how old. looking around the land, i saw it was exactly what i thought it would be: the battered remains of what once was a semi-nice farm.

when we went inside, our friend went pale like she was going to pass out. newspapers were strewn all over the floor and all the furniture was covered in quilts. i don't think i'm a particularly picky or needy person but i was literally sick to my stomach at the thought of staying here. it smelled like mothballs.

yes, that is a picture of george and laura bush placed lovingly amongst photos of his family.

luckily i wasn't the only person who felt that way. my mom stealthily snuck outside to call the hotel while her friend and i distracted the old man. they still had our room available and thankfully we were able to rebook it.

i believe this is where the bodies are kept. notice the meat hooks.

we told him that we were unable to cancel our hotel reservation because it was such short notice and, although we'd love to stay with him, we just couldn't but we would definitely spend time with him. he bought it. THANK GOD.

he showed us around his land and gave us lunch, which i was hesitant to eat for fear it may be poisoned. basically he rents out blocks of his land to red necks, effectively creating one of the world's most terrifying trailer parks. to be honest, he was actually a very nice man but the best way to characterize him is OLD. he embodies ever old person stereotype you could think of, including the long speeches about days gone by.

i made this ketchup and mustard masterpiece during one of his sermons.

his stories were kind of interesting (he was taken prisoner during the islamic revolution) but he kept going on tangents so his stories were almost impossible to follow. i think my brain would have melted if we ended up spending the night with him.

reporting to you live from the most boring place on earth

we're getting closer the our destination and things are not looking better. my mom's friend can tell i'm not very happy about staying on her boyfriend's pathetic excuse for a farm so she keeps saying things like "at least it'll be an adventure!" or "this will be an experience for you!" and of course, "we're making memories!" i like her a lot but i've had to employ a great deal of will power and restraint to avoid breaking my foot off in her ass.

THIS IS NOT A MOVIE. i am not a city slicker (like let's say, renee zellweger) moving to some backwater town where i will meet and fall in love with a folksy yet lovable local (perhaps harry connick jr). this will not end in a lesson learned.
correction: there is a lesson in this. next time someone offers to take me to florida, I'M FUCKING GOING.

i could have gone to florida...

this whole summer i've been craving the beach or a trip of any kind, really, to a fun vacation spot. a family friend offered to take me to Florida with her kids but i turned it down because we had a guest coming from California and we already had plans to go to Gatlinburg. it seems crazy to turn down Florida for Gatlinburg but i felt bad leaving my mom. plus we'd reserved a room at a hotel by Dollywood so at least there'd be a pool and possible fun times to be had, right?
FUCKING WRONG.

i can has beach tiems plz?

i guess i should make it clear that the whole reason we were going to Gatlinburg was so that this lady could meet some guy she might possibly marry. he lives in White Pine which is about an hour away.

while we were eating breakfast this morning at Breugger's (everything bagels with cream cheese are my reason for living) her potential fiance calls us to say: forget the hotel, come stay with me on my FUCKING FARM.

what's wrong with a farm? nothing. the idea of hanging out on a really nice ranch where i can see animals and do fun farm stuff (whatever that is) doesn't sound bad at all but that's just it; there is nothing on this farm. i don't even think you can call it that anymore. it is the empty shell of what once was a farm. it is to farms what humans are to zombies. i'm going to spend three day on a zombie farm.

i imagine mr. future husband looks something like this.

but i guess i owe this lady. she bought me two pairs of pants.

technically, i haven't seen the farm yet, just heard about it. i'm writing this as we drive so maybe it won't be so bad. i'll keep you posted.