Screams From The Haters Got A Nice Ring To It, I Guess Every Superhero Need His Theme Music

America. Oh I love it. Can't get enough of it. When I'm on the rock, I go to Ace Hardware just because it smells like America (freedom mixed with opportunity if you wanted to know). I think McDonald's is something spectacular because I can close my eyes and believe that I'm eating my McNuggets in a place where I don't have to worry whether my change will be in dollars or guilders, or if the power will go out mid-bite, or if I have enough bottled water to brush my teeth and shave. (By the way, shaving with bottled water, ridiculous. I was all lathered up and then the sink runs dry. It was the worst shave ever, until yesterday when I used a single blade disposable. Straight criminal really. 36 hours later, still feeling the burn.)

However, one of the downsides is that there are actual police who actually do their job. And part of their job entails giving me a speeding ticket once a year. I swear to you, it's like clockwork. Every fall since I was 17, barring the mission, I've gotten a speeding ticket. Sometimes two in a fall, but without fail, at least one. I'm in the states for a week and half this fall, driving my car for a little less then a week. Get nailed doing 36 in 25. And that's exactly what it was. Normally when they write you up for 36, you were doing like 44. Nope. I was doing 36. I had just made the corner and was accelerating while sharing a story, and boom I see a cop coming the other way. Look down, just north of the 35 tick mark. Yes, I was breaking the law, but seriously? 36 in a 25? I chalk that up to fate and destiny. This is what happens when you have legit police that actually do their job.

On better notes, there are quality donuts on like every street corner. I feel that if Noah was force to bring one food item on the ark, he would bring bacon, but if he had two he would bring nacho cheese. Donuts would be a close third. They would be followed by tootsie rolls, caramels, and Wingers Sticky Fingers.

Speaking of Sticky Fingers, I'm like 48 hours away from having a belly full of them. And a plate of them in the fridge. And another order grilling in the kitchen. Yep. All over it. You want in on some of this action, bring your A eating game, and holler at me when I get up to Utah on Wednesday evening. Normally I wouldn't post a phone number on the internet, but this number is only active for 4 weeks a year, so who cares. 321-222-8799.

Word.