Tickled.

I didn't shower after the all clean on Monday...but neither did anyone else in the car, so I was ok with it.

There was a less than pleasant blend of glove sweat, dirty toilet water, rogue chemical, and a smattering of feet reek wafting through the vehicle.

Mom and Dad (Stacy and Nick), and the three kiddies (Ashley, Shannon, and myself), hopped in the mid- sized SUV and hit the pavement for a 24 hour adventure beginning at about 4:30 on Monday evening.

24 hours isn't long, but let's just say we made the most of it. You just wait.

At the Muddy Rd. and Cold Camp intersection we took the road less traveled and headed through Ashwood. I think about seven people live there. But they have a post office, and a really nice high school, so that's cool.

It was neat to see how grandiose our property is. Yes, I just used the word grandiose. It means what it sounds like. Grossly grand. The Washington Family Ranch is all of 64,000 acres. Yeah, wrap your mind around that one. Massive.

We made it to the 97 highway after driving miles upon miles of windy dirt road. We got a phantom flat tire and then hit the road again.

To end up at McDonald's. Yeah, I know. Haven't eaten there since that time I was on my way to San Francisco and needed to use the internet to check the road conditions...I felt bad freeloading so I bought some dirty chicken sandwiches. McDonald's was the only fast food joint that was excluded from the voting poll...so it's pretty ironic that we ended up there. Ashley likes the french fries. And Mom and Dad wanted Big Macs.

After pummeling our bowels, we took to the road once again, headed to Bend.

We made it to the movie theater just in time. Going The Distance. Absolutely incredible. I haven't laughed so hard in ummm...well you get the exaggeration. Hysterical. Drew Barrymore. Justin Long. Jim Gaffigan. Jim was a pleasant surprise. Genius screen-writing. There were references to Moesha and baby pigeons. What else could you need for an epic movie? Go see it. Superb.

From the movie, we headed for a bout around town, checking out the local piercing joints. Sizing 'em up. Deciding which one would get our cash money come morning time. And then there it was, that big homely green, orange, and red lighted sign with the big 7 that never goes out.

It's slurpee time.

The fam bam flocks the store...pillaging the shelves. I almost bought a donut, and a bag of chips. But go me, I didn't.

Dad on the other hand, just couldn't contain himself. He almost bought a bomb burrito, but instead settled for the half pound hot pocket. Cooked in a dirty microwave.

Us four ladies sipped our slurpees out in the parking lot and waited for pops to finish nuking his fourth meal. We talked about the movie, and Jim Gaffigan, and hot pockets. Shannon just happened to have Jim on her ipod so when we got in the car, we cued up his bit on hot pockets. If you haven't heard it, go on youtube right now and type in Jim Gaffigan-hot pocket. Dad took the first bite and Shannon hit play as we pulled out of the parking lot. I've never heard Nick laugh so hard, nor have I laughed that hard in ummm...well, you get the exaggeration. Twas epic. About half way through the half-pounder Nick realized that it wasn't even the ham and cheese pocket that he wanted, it was a Philly cheesesteak hot pocket. Foul. He must have been laughing too hard, just throwing those taste buds all out of sorts.

We made it to Marianne's for a late night viewing of Ratatouille. Everyone fell asleep but yours truly. Oh, and Dad stayed up playing with his itouch. Mom and the other kiddies passed out.

Woke up to the sun the next morning, which isn't a terrible way to greet the day, except it was 6:30 and I just wanted to sleep some more. But alas, the sun was just too fierce, and heaven forbid I just reach up and close the blinds. So I got up and hit the shower. Finally. The anonymous excretions from the bodies of strangers had taken up residency on my unassuming skin. Time for eviction.

Showered, shaved, and shined up nicely, I played barista briefly and made some lattes for the family. Witty banter with Marianne and then we headed out to breakfast.

Westside Cafe Bakery. If you're ever in Bend, hit that ish up. The biscuits will blow your mind. And the food quantity will darn near blow your stomach. Literally.

From the Bakery, we headed to Best Buy. Time for a huge investment. Dad and I wandered the store for awhile, perusing all the different necessities for my prosumer camera kit. I think my new blog will be called The Prosumer. Make a mockery of myself when I take the world by storm with my rookie pictures and videos. So unassuming.

Camera's in da bag. Whilst making the purchase, the check out dude says, "Yeah, umm, you totally just saved a hundred bucks on your camera."

Thanks Dad. For that 12% off coupon.

Mom and the other kiddies were frolicking in lyrical land. They found three new cds. Katy Perry, Mumford & Sons, and the Going The Distance Soundtrack. Katy Perry has a song called Peacock. Use your imagination.

Let's just say the Parental Advisory sticker is there for a reason. Good thing our parents were present to experience that lyrical genius with us.

Off to get pierced.

We ended up at Starfire. Not the most clever title for a body piercing place. But it was clean, and accommodating, and totally owned and run by chicks. Yeah, pretty rad. Stacy, Ashley, and myself got our noses pierced while everyone watched. Literally, everyone. There's a one room studio in the place and it's surrounded by windows. The whole city of Bend decided to show up to get pierced that day. Luckily, we arrived before them. I would've hated the anticipation of waiting for the whole city of Bend to get pierced before me. We laid on the table. Listened to the shpiel. And then got some holes in our noses. But I have to tell you about Jamie. Yeah, I dropped 80 bones on a hole in my nose, but Jamie made it alllll worth it. Jamie's the piercer. She's in her early 30's. Been piercing for almost half her life. Not two-toned, but three-toned hair. Blonde. Pink. And Purple. Three rings in the left nostril. A star in the right. Smiley face tat on her middle finger. Diamonds in her teeth. Boots and a lacey black shirt. Rides a motorcycle. And flies to Riverside to get her ink. We chatted. She offered me a number if I wanted to get work next time I'm home.

Although she dropped a hundred f-bombs during our 20 minute encounter, I think I could be great friends with her. She knew we worked at a Jesus camp and she didn't change herself an ounce to appease us. I love that.

My piercing experience was delightful. Even though I didn't get the token Smarties that everyone else did, I do have the best circulation of the bunch so I'll take that as consolation.

Now that I got bling and a big crusty blood clot nestled in my nostril, it's time to hit up Old Navy and some thrift stores. You'll be happy to know that I found a bathing suit bottom for $1.37 and it's the perfect shade of blue...matches all three of my bathing suit tops. Yup, cha ching, I'm a winner. And so is Old Navy. Yeah, I got the bottoms new at Old Navy, not used at a thrift store. Sorry for the mass confusion.

Time for over-consumption round two. Costco. Giant pizza. Giant ice cream. And 59 cent root beer. Yeah, bowels, take that. Bought some memory cards for the camera and then hit the road for home.

But not before a quick pit stop at Wal-Mart. Always a treat. Always an experience. Got some milk and cereal, bananas, and orange juice. But I couldn't escape without at least one full body gape by a dirty old man. And yes, he smirked as he looked me up and down. Oh joy.

As we made the trek back to Campyland, Dad and I chatted about Bartending School. Yup, we're considering learning how to make alcoholic beverages together. Perfect father-daughter bonding atmosphere. Wouldn't you agree?

And there you have it, 24 hours of perfection.

I failed to mention the prancing antelope, exploding Mountain Dews, and the giant cavity infested care package Mama West sent me...but those are just casualties in this epic massacre. I hope you felt like you were a witness.