I'm exhausted after spending 26 of the last 72 hours in a car. I probably wouldn't be so tired if we hadn't done the exact same thing the weekend before.
This week, we drove to Buford, Georgia. As we were packing up the rental car, hubby was hit by a back spasm which became even more debilitating over the next day or two. I didn't sleep at all Friday night because he would either lie on his back and snore or roll over and let out a blood-curdling scream. Snore... scream... snore... scream...
Oddly, hubby would be awakened by his own snoring but not his own screaming.
He made it through the shows with the help of Vicodin and Jack Daniels. Luckily for him, he doesn't move much during his set anyway. But, it did crack me up watching him do the Playboy Bunny dip every time he reached down for his bourbon.
On Friday night, a guy in the audience "complimented" me by saying, "I like a donkey butt and a big ol' set of thighs." I left him speechless when I replied, "Yes, I have thighs that could crush a man's skull." I bet he's still thinking about me.
Also in the crowd, was a former Special Ops Army Captain who had been shot five times and blown up (his words, not mine) three times. Since it was Halloween, he came to the show dressed as Death. A comic never wants to look out and see Death in the second row. It's a bit disconcerting.
I spoke to the Captain for a good 30 minutes after the show. When I asked him if he was happy to be retiring from the Army, without hesitation he said, "No. There's still work to be done." Amazing. Simply amazing.
Good folks in Buford. Worth the drive. Now I must nap.