Here’s the thing.
Sometimes you just wanna be a dork.
Dears, you know I usually only post FaceTuned to perfection photos, but scrolling through camera roll today, I said, eh, why not.
This geek of an image was snapped last November as I rolled across the Midwest in a van with six of my oldest and best friends, headed to see the Rolling Stones play in Dallas.
For the uninformed, the big D is an eight-hour drive from Kansas City. And it’s not some pretty little AAA Crossroads magazine road trip, either. It’s a slog of dreary, interstate highway. Lunch was Chick Filet with about 300 chattering high school coeds.
When we hit Denton, TX, the friend who’d bankrolled our tickets went nutty as we pulled up to a gargantuan, full of stuff from China truck stop called Buc-ee’s. You guys gotta see this place, it’s massive, right?!
Well, everything is bigger in Texas.
Road weary, we scattered to take in the blur of souvenirs in the store, which was about the size of the Fayetteville airport.
If you think I’m kidding, Buc-ee’s New Braunfels store, in the hill country of Texas, holds the record for world’s largest convenience store at a mind-warping 66,335 sq. ft!
Nor can I even begin to calculate the sheer tonnage of trinkets. Like a buffet of tempting, stratospherically caloric food in Las Vegas, Buc-ee’s is stuffed with superfluous stuff no one would ever need for sustenance.
Maybe it was pure exhaustion, the soupy grey day, or relief at being free of the van, but I fell in love with this utterly ridiculous raccoon-tail stunner. Coonskin cap I believe is the official name. I don’t remember how much it cost.
Could it look any worse? Could I? Except it was stoopid silly fun. We belly laughed so hard, my friend snot snorted as other bleary-eyed road warriors stared like, what’s with them?
Later, as we shuffled into the outdoor venue, all of us wearing three layers of clothing to stay warm under the plastic ponchos we bought at Buc-ee’s, I withered amongst the Texas beauty queens dolled up in sexy concert gear.
Under a cold, steady drizzle, we found our seats as Mick Jagger sprang onto stage and pranced his way down a twenty-five foot runway looking glam AF, attired in natty black pants and a bright green jacket fitted over a tight tank top.
“This rain is f*ckng up the dawncing,” he snarled, nearly sliding off his precarious perch on stage.
No sh*t. We had to keep our own ‘dawncing’ to a low roar up there on the rain-soaked aluminum bleachers.
Sadly, we left my furry friend at Buc-ee’s. My peeps talked me out of it and sent this photo later.
Totes dork. Blackmail photo for sure. Won’t be using this one on a dating site. Hey, or maybe I should. Don’t guys like dorks?
In the wild off Chance you might want to order up this coon cap for yourself, here’s the Buc-ee’s link: