The End of the Road. Not Literally. I Guess the End of Our Trip. Or Something. This Is Too Long. For Sure.

After we handed over the car to that guy who went to my high school somehow, our trip, as I mentioned, was ostensibly over.  The next stop on our list of stops was meeting up with Amanda’s old friend Andrew, and his girlfriend Anna.  You may remember them from post number three of this very blog.

On the way up there, Amanda was in close contact with Andrew, via text messages, and they were discussing were we should eat.  A little about Andrew:

He is, quite literally, one of the pickier eaters in the history of eaters.  Not only is he a vegetarian, which limits his options immediately, but, as Amanda tells me, he basically subsisted on pizza and Goldfish brand snack crackers for the entirety of high school.  He has, since then, expanded his tastes a bit, but is, by his own admission, stuck with an extremely bland palate. 

Because of this, both Amanda and I were expecting to be eating at The Olive Garden, which serves decent food along with excellent salad and breadsticks.  I would have been perfectly happy ending up there.

During the back and forth phone messages, he mentioned wanting to go out for seafood.  I was, and Amanda was more so, shocked.  This was highly unexpected, but not altogether unwelcomed.  We were back on the East Coast, which is pretty great as far as getting seafood goes, so I was looking forward to some good, fresh Atlantic Ocean dwelling food.

I learned during the car ride, and you will learn with this next photo, where we ended up:

Not exactly what I had in mind, as we were about an hour from the cold waves of the Atlantic, but whatever.  Andrew’s a good fellow, and it was a capital time.

Here’s what I ordered and subsequently received:

Shrimp and stuff.  What stuff?  Pasta.  What other stuff?  This stuff:

Holy hell, that’s is a piss-ton of butter.  Seriously, look at all of that butter.  Holy crap.  Relax on the butter Red Lobster.

After we had finished up our conversation and food, we went our separate ways.  Their way was likely to their house.  Our way was to the house of Amanda’s sister Melissa.  The same house that we stayed in the first night of our trip.  The same house with the teeny tiny little girl’s bed that I sleep on.  And the house that I took the final picture of the trip in:

I found this little notebook lying on my nephew-in-law’s desk.  This cracked me up at the time.  At this time, I still cracks me up.  Not only is the sentence, with a correctly spelled “pizza” in it, just awesome, but with this misspelling?  Greatness.  Me want pissa as well.  Yum.

And that’s it.  The end.  I may go back through everything and give you some highlights/favorites and whatnot within a week or so.

The next adventure for Amanda and I?  Selling the house we bought and rehabilitated, which I also blog about here.  oh, and a little matter of moving ourselves to Puerto Rico on the 31st of January (which I will likely blog about on that other blog also). 

Slammin’.