Sun screen rules! (And so do obscure country and western performers)

[ed. note: Fabulous guest writer Lisa brings you another posting.]

Hidee-ho neighboreenos! Here we are in Branson, Missouri. Wild, wacky, weird Branson, Missouri. It’s hard to describe the experience that is Branson. I once heard it described as the hillbilly Vegas which may be pretty close in the end. I’d feel worse about saying that except they have t-shirts shops every ten feet that loudly proclaim Branson (and the Ozarks) as a place for hillbillies (also pirates… you figure that one out). We’re under the target age demographic, I think. There are large showplaces all along route 76 which runs through the center of Branson. There are, however, signs for these shows every ten feet (I kid you not) all the way from Springfield, thiry miles away. It’s like the Wall Drug signs only really every few feet rather than every hundred miles. As for the performers, we’ve decided that this is the place where all the Hee-Haw performers you thought were dead have gone to. They’ve also built a replica of the Titanic but, oddly, only half of the boat.

We amused ourselves today by walking up and down the main strip here and playing mini-golf. One thing I’ve (re)discovered is that I’m really, really bad at mini-golf. Jeff beat me both rounds but the second round he beat me by 18 strokes. And here’s why … because when his ball hit mine, it knocked my ball away from the hole but when my ball hit his, it knocked his into the hole. INTO THE DANG HOLE. How does that happen? He hits his over a fence into the rocks and then sinks the next shot. I hit the ball under the dinosaur and my next shot ends up further under the dinosaur (we’ve got it on film to prove it).

Now for the random thoughts portion of our broadcast. We’re heading to St. Louis tomorrow for more baseball! They’ve got a new ballpark that we’re excited to see. Some bugs, when they hit the windshield, become molecularly bonded to the glass. Bad sunburns will blister. People who get off the duck boat tours and insist on blowing the quacky noise-maker in your face are seriously annoying.

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