Roadtripping notes

So I think Hope might be right when she says that I am craving a little impulsivity, for I have decided, upon seeing approximately a ten block radius of Portland, Oregon (oh, and their section of the I-5) that I should probably live here. Let's see if this impression holds up when I venture out during the daylight!

The Duke and I rented some wee little car and jetted down to Portland yesterday.   The official reason? I am speaking at a conference that begins on Thursday. The unofficial reason? Roadtrips rule. 

Also, the Duke hasn't been to the US since a childhood trip to Yellowstone Park at around 10 years old, despite the fact that we live about less than an hour away from the border. This means I get to pretend to be all worldly. "Oh, darling, you know they have different currency here, right? And beer in convenience stores?"

(Side note- My impression of a car rental company: "Oh hi. Look at our super cheap and flashy website. We are a million times easier than taking a bus! *go to pick up rental car* Oh, whoops, our website had no mention of the complete and utter lack of any insurance in that cute little price... which is actually more than the actual cost of renting the car!")

So what did yesterday's adventures entail?

The Duke making us stop at Jack in the Box because we don't have it in Canada. All we know about Jack in the Box is that it once killed somebody and the commercials are really damn annoying.

Now having actually dined there? I'm not entirely sure there is a reason for it to exist. Especially at every single highway exit. 

Also, I'm not a big fan of the big bolded calories right next to the prices, especially since I noticed them after ordering. I'm not happy about being at Jack in the Box in the first place. I certainly don't need to know that my chicken strips have approximately half my daily recommended calories in them.

Though curly fries are always a good thing, and lead one to wondering about the rad assembly line that makes said curly fries.

Me trying desperately not to belt out the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs too loudly. The Duke may have been with me for years now, but I'm still not sure he can entirely handle that.

Getting lost in Olympia trying to find Dairy Queen. 

Getting a crash course (not literally!) in converting miles to kilometres.

Rushing to check into the hotel in time for a playoff hockey game, only to discover that out of four ESPNs, not a single one was playing hockey. A re-run of a football game, but not playoff hockey.

We had to resort to a livestream a few inches wide on a laptop.

I am way too excited about HBO, Forever 21, mashed potatoes with cheese in them, and free robes that are so big on me it looks like I am being devoured by a terrycloth monster. The Duke is excited about the proliferation of microbreweries.

We watched Fox News before bed, simply because it is a bit of an urban legend up in Canada (we only get CNN on regular cable). It was everything I could have dreamed. And I had nightmares about Glenn Beck.

Today? If I can get the Duke unwrapped from the sheets in our king sized bed, we're jaunting off to the Oregon Coast. And I should probably, you know, practice my talk, as not to contradict my "official" reason for being here.