Christmas: It Hasn't Killed Me Yet

My Christmas road trip has officially started and so far I'm proud to say that the drive to Calgary hasn't killed either of us yet and we haven't killed each other yet even though we sort of maybe came suspiciously close to dying when The Pilot saw an airplane in the sky and paid more attention to that then the merging traffic in front of him. So, we only almost sorta died.

Our road trip was riddled with arguments that started in fits and crackles over who was in charge of the music and several of my face book statuses totally explain what happened there:

Surprisingly, I haven't jabbed out my ears yet.

And then I fell asleep and woke up to endlessly repeating Christmas music and a boyfriend who was read to through the radio out of the window after ripping it from his vehicle because it just wouldn't stop and he had misplaced his own iPod so he couldn't listen to something better.

And then I pointed out cows.

Then we got to our hotel which actually turned out to be a motel and now I think we're going to be murdered in our sleep because the front desk guy was protected against the worst possible case scenario by sitting in a cage made out of bars because at any moment monkey's on tanks will attack a horrible motel.

And then we got a room that happens to share a wall with what I am assuming is an Indian Techno party because that is the only way I can describe the horrible music radiating from the wall.

Favorite part of the trip so far? When I asked The Pilot if we could stop for gas by innocently saying "Is that a gas station we can stop at?" he responded with, "No, that's a rape station and we are never stopping there."

Which, honestly, is pretty good advice to live by.