Grilled Chicken Sandwich Anyone?

         I have a dog. Her name is Gigi. She weighs 5 pounds and her poop has a stronger smell than any other poop I have ever encountered. Gigi is not a good traveler. It makes her very gassy. You would expect a Chihuahua fart to be almost cute. Like a little poof of air with no real punch to it. Let me assure you, that is not the case.  I can only describe her gas like this; It is like crawling inside of a public bus with 25 body builders eating eggs and diarrhea and bench pressing weights. It is like crawling inside of a fart volcano. It is like 7th depth of the New York subway system in August. It is like the valley of Akron, Ohio when they have to release the build up of methane gas at the poop plant, and even the water tastes like actual poop. 

         The same trip I talked about a while ago that made me into an honorary poop Monk, also involved this story as well. Let me preface the story by starting out with the Oregon trail that Chad and I blazed during our month long trip. We went: North Carolina-Ohio, Ohio-Virginia, Virginia-Connecticut, Connecticut to Virginia, Virginia to North Carolina. There are bad travelers, and then there's me. I am so bad, I don't even have comparisons. It's sort of like being trapped in a box with a cat, and bunch of bees, and 3 kids with ADD. 

         I rarely change out my contacts and I wear cloudy ones for like 2 months until they are really no longer useful to even homeless people. Do homeless people wear contacts? I don't know, but they should. I like to wait extra long to change my contacts, because when you do, it's like being born again. On the Ohio to Virginia leg of our Oregon trail, we picked up Chad's sister Juli, and my close friend. She gets car sick, but that has nothing to do with this story. I just wanted everyone to know that. 

         Andddddd we're off! Headed to Virginia. Chad, Juli, Gigi, and myself pack into our rental car. This trip takes place in December. If you grew up in a cold climate, this was one of those weird December days where, its windy but it's like 50 degrees outside, and it feels like Scooby Doo town outside when the sun sets. We have to travel thru all of Ohio, West Virginia and a good portion of Virginia as well. If you have been lucky enough to have never been to West Virginia let me tell you about the mountains. There will be a highway with a guard rail made out of toothpicks, and a 5,000 ft drop, being protected by said toothpicks. The wind was blowing like crazy. It was pushing our car toward toothpick town again and again. Gigi was getting more and more nervous and with every curve we would take on the mountain roads she would let one rip. It was like death came out of her butt hole. Then, with my fresh contacts I started noticing how BEAUTIFUL everything was around me. It was a harvest moon, the leaves blowing by in the wind looked so crisp and clear, the moon was orange, it was really beautiful. It was really beautiful if you weren't: driving in that crap, easily car sick, or a Chihuahua  IBS. I kept saying how "clear" everything was. I sounded like a stoned hippy that night, until we got to Roy Rodgers.

        We all started getting hungry. We stopped to refill for gas, and there were signs for sushi at the gas station. We decided this was a land locked state, and gas stations aren't know for their sushi. We drove on. We were starving by the time we found the next rest area with food. Chad was given the task of staying with Gigi, while Juli and I went for food. When we got out of the car, it was seriously one step away from getting blown over. We get into the service station and our choices are: TCBY, Quiznos with 4 menu items, or Roy Rodgers. Juli and I talked it over and neither of us though quiznos was a good idea. This is when I made the single worst decision of my life. We got Roy Rodgers. I ordered something for Chad, and myself and ran back to the car to eat. I took 3 bites of my salad and then, I smelled it. WORSE that Gigi farts, it was Chad's sandwich. Chad was so hungry by this point, that he pounded this rectum of a chicken sandwich, while Juli and I looked on in disbelief. We got back on the road. The rest of the mountains were ahead of us, but that was the least of our problems. About a half an hour later, the burps began, and so did the Gigi farts. Chad would burp up the colon smell from his dinner and then Gigi would return fire with a burst of rectum fury. It seemed to die down after about 2 hours. Then, the dueling butt smells kicked up a notch. Now, I'm not sure, but I think that Gigi refused to be out stank on this trip only making her little booty work that much harder. 

         Roy Rodgers almost killed me.

         That sentence deserved its own paragraph.