This is to say that I have never found it funny. I prefer Mary Worth if only for the unintentional comedy scale on which it has been placed by the Comics Curmudgeon. I mean, Mary had Aldo Kelrast stalk her in a 2006 storyline. His last name was an anagram of "Stalker" and he looked like Captain Kangaroo. Plus, he died while driving drunk which makes him more of a hero than Morrissey (for precipitating the reformation of The New York Dolls).
But Luann hit a nerve discussing Fresno Motel 6s and I can tell you a story or two about a Motel 6 in Fresno. Well, one story...
Several years ago I was given the "job" of squiring a Korean lad around the United States. The lad was sent to "see" the United States and practice his English. For $100 a day and expenses I was the leader of a two-car caravan. My car was me and the BAG, the other car contained my Korean friends and the lad switched between the cars, though normally not while we were still moving.
When a Korean "sees" the western United States it is something like a photographic treasure hunt. Certain sites must be visited and photographs must be taken there. Sites that aren't on the 'official' list are completely unimportant. UCB and Stanford are on the academic list (While the Community College I work at isn't ;-p). Yosemite and the Grand Canyon are on the natural list (While Lassen or deserts aren't). On our way from Yosemite to Las Vegas (on the list) we spent a romantic evening in Fresno. Fresno is a cosmopolitan town on the scenic central plains of California between Yosemite and Vegas. On this magical evening we, tired and happy travelers, stopped in at the Motel 6.
The Koreans took a room towards the front of the hotel and the BAG and I took a room slightly further back. BAG and I fell asleep to the gentle susurrus of sirens, bald tires squealing, glass bottles shattering on pavement and occipital lobes, and the gentle "crunk" of shotguns in the middle distance.
It was the sleep of the just.
The next morning we were awakened by the Koreans who looked.. well .... not well. They were unjust, and thus had not slept well.
At about 1:00 am they had been awakened by an old, bloody man pounding on their door. They went to the door and the old man began a tale of woe.... "Call the police. Please call the police."
The Koreans called the guy at the front desk who, deciding discretion was definitely the greater part of valor, remained huddled under the front counter with his niner and bottle of Jack.
The old man kept hollering, "They beat me up, they beat me up. Please call the police."
The Koreans ignored him and he finally moved on to the next door.
The next door, unfortunately, was also to the room the Koreans were in (no, I have no idea why there were two doors to one room -- perhaps for escape?).
It began again... "Call the police. Please call the police. They beat me up, they beat me up. Please call the police."
Finally, the old man understood he wasn't marketing himself correctly and went for his big finish, "The beat me up! They beat me up! All I wanted was a blow-job, and they beat me up!"
Whilst the BAG and I (and the guy at the front desk) slept, this drama played itself out for an hour or so.
Welcome to the United States, Korean lad!
Finally, presumably overcome by drunkeness or loss of blood, the old man staggered off into the noisy night.
That morning the BAG quite sensibly asked why one of the Koreans hadn't just given the old man a blowjob to get him to leave.
She's practical that one.
The trip went on and no one was hurt.
And I had nearly forgotten all of it.
Until I actually laughed at Luann.
I suck.
Which means the poor old dude was at the wrong door the whole time.
Morning came early and with all the shit associated with nature – Sun blazing, birds hollering, chipmunks pounding on my head. OK, that was my hangover, but still.
More screw-aroundery today. Got up relatively early and packed up to ride to the hills to see the fambly. Along the way I had planned to stop in and see Old Married With Children Friend, but instead got a lesson in how long it had been since I have seen her. Headed off to her house (along the way) and took a wrong turn somehow. Just couldn't find it as I accidentally stayed on the wrong road (well, obviously, but I think I know which wrong road it was). 
The bartendress was trying to figure out the signature drink of the place, to be called the “Red Frog,” of course. And I was lucky enough to get a shot of it. Amaretto, cranberry, a couple of other things. Quite good. The view from the place is mind-numbing and I don't know if it is legal to smoke outside in California, but everyone is and so it has the vibe of a nice bar from the old days. Three families and about 6 bikers including a young woman with spectacularly outsized silicon breasts that threaten to topple her really skinny frame. I'm not saying anything or looking much, however, since her boyfriend is 3 bills if a pound and I'm too pretty to take a beating. Ordered a burger and the chef had to be separated from her cocktail and cigarette to come on in and cook it. I could live here. ;-)
I walk a few blocks and realize that I forgot to bring something to write on. I see an Office Depot and decide to go inside. Just inside the door is a lovely row of small digital tape recorders and I realize I must have one. After 20 minutes of puzzling, I make my choice. Then, standing in line as the woman is unpacking it from its protective case in the store, which is just as difficult for her to open as it is for me to open the package when I get out on the street (see the lovely picture of my cut finger - boohoo for me!), I start freaking out because I haven't picked up the pad and pen I came in for. The whole time I'm in there I'm peering over at the “school supplies” area to try to figure out if I have time to run over there and get the pen and pad before she rings me up. There is not such an amount of time. It isn't until I get out of the store that I remember that the I paid 49 dollars for a digital tape-recorder so I wouldn't have to use a pad and pen while I was walking.
my caffeine. When I get outside the sun seems a bit brighter, the sky a bit bluer, and the sidewalk a bit more like undulating polka-dotted taffy. So I think it worked.
Got down to a Mega-store and purchased polarizing something or others to cover my lenses. Unfortunately the store did not have a lens cap for the lens missing one, neither did it have the screw on cover I need for the back of one of my lenses. I'll pick those up tomorrow at Funky Little Kamera Store over by work. Then I'll have my camera kit in order, should I ever decide to leave the job and become an itinerant photo-blogger.
