Fancy Boys Club

First off, let’s just say moving from Illinois to Colorado hasn’t been without a certain amount of odd events that soon translated to humor.
I moved in full nearly a week ago. By ‘in full’ I mean I finally to settle in permanence. My first journey was driving a 26-foot U-Haul truck across the COVID-hoax luvvin’ state of Iowa who still, in spite of clear evidence she’s a buffoon, re-elected Joni Ernst. After Iowa came Nebraska. Got to say, Nebraska, flat as it can be hauling ass on I-80, wasn’t so bad. I stayed overnight in York, Nebraska and they were super friendly even when I kept asking where I could see the World’s Largest Peppermint Patty. Frankly, York would be a hotbed of Nebraska tourism if someone would just get on it and erect that Patty.

Why would you ever want to drive a moving truck for 15 hours?

Good question. Because after trying to hire a moving company to haul my precious items such as my small Buddha statue and stuffed Paddington Bear, I was shafted by a fast-talking son-of-a-bitch salesman who quoted me at $2,500 to get my stuff loaded into the truck in Illinois and unloaded in Colorado “we got to get the truck their anyway and don’t want to send it back unloaded.” Uh-huh. The real estimator gave me a call a few days later to re-evaluate after he saw the notes that said I had enough stuff to Tetris a 20-foot truck. I literally gave him a tour of the stuff via Facetime, including two huge rectangles of stacked boxes. He hung up, ran the numbers to get cubic feet and called me back.