Wolf.

On the way back from Tucson over Labor Day weekend, I found myself at what must have been the ultimate Mecca in terms of truck stops. I'm talking a bona fide truck stop, not a New Jersey rest stop with a Cinnabon and a half hearted Burger King, a Truck Stop. One fully stocked with survival gear such as this truck alarm horn thing that can be heard from something like a fifty mile radius, basically the trucker equivalent of a rape whistle, which is kind of ironic, because I always operated under the stereotype-fueled assumption that the truckers were the ones doing the raping, but anyway.  This place had Trucker Trouble alarms, it had over the counter Viagra, caffeine pills, showers, a "TV Theater", an A&W/Taco Bell, Danielle Steel books on tape... I'd say you name it, they had it, but there were things there that the average person would never even think to name, so trust me when I say it was something special.

What made it extra super special to me was the clothing department, fully stocked with frayed denim vests, wannabe Harley Davidson paraphernalia, and, most importantly, majestic wolf sweatshirts, 2 for $10.00. Two. For. Ten. Dollars. Now, while I admit that one of the items on my 276 item Hate List is articles of clothing featuring endangered animals i.e. wolves, whales, dolphins, etc., I have to admit that it's less a hate and more a fascination with the desire to wear such a shirt. The people that march through life decked out in sweatshirts with majestic wolves screened on them over coordinating turtlenecks are such a specific race of human that you can instantly peg them the minute you catch a glimpse of them, proudly displaying their favorite animal as the focal point of their wardrobe.  Kind of like the Amish, or people who really like the Medieval times, 0r people who think they're wizards, or Civil War re-enactors. 

When we stopped in Santa Fe on the road trip, Liz kicked off the Normal People Owning Wolf Shirts Movement and invested in a really special tie-dyed green t-shirt with a stoic Indian princess cuddling a wolf on it. Sheer majesty, to say the least. It would be hard to follow up such a find, but that is exactly what I did at this, the truck stop to end all truck stops in the middle of the desert. I threw down my $5.00 and walked out with a large, white sweatshirt featuring a howling wolf and a pine tree that may or may not have been painted by Bob Ross. It's kind of hilarious, when you think about it. It's even more hilarious because I have to confess, this happened about two weeks ago and since then there has not been a night that I haven't used it as sleep wear. Sexy, right? I can't explain it, but there is just something about a freshly laundered, enormous, white, Bob Ross-ed wolf shirt that makes sleeping that much more enjoyable. 

I don't know what this new habit says about me or if I'm, God forbid, being a Hate List hypocrite, but I have decided that it is worth mentioning now, at 1:30 AM, God knows how many "Absolut Angels" in the bag. Apparently, according to Absolut, the flavor of Los Angeles is acai berries (what the hell are they, anyway?) and pomegranate. 

That's full of crap. I hope if they ever do Absolut Boston that it just tastes like Pabst Blue Ribbon, aka the Bathtubtini. Keep it real.