This is by far, the understatement of the century. It’s like saying Luke Skywalker’s Midi-chlorian counts weren’t high enough to defeat the dark side, and that Batman doesn’t kick ass on account of his lack of “super hero abilities.” I am in reality, far less than ready to travel the approximate 2323.29 miles it will takes from point a (Salt Lake City, UT) to b (Manchester, CT).
I have lived in Ye Old Mormon Town for precisely 5 years, and I do want to attest, they were some of the best times of my life. When people hear “Salt Lake City,” it may conjure up a number of thoughts: Some may think of the Great Salt Lake, others a city. However most people, when think of one thing and one thing alone: Mormons.
Don’t ask me where I found this statistic because I don’t feel like properly citing it: “The state as a whole is around 62% Mormon… though some areas such as Orem, Provo, and other rural communities are closer to 90% Mormon.” So yes, there are a lot of Mormons – but honestly until recently I had never felt the extent of the Mormon wrath in SLC.
At precisely 5:48 one night last week, I heard a knock on my door. As I had been out of work nearly an hour I had transformed into grossly unprofessional Tanya. I was wearing booty shorts, a baggy tee-shirt with no bra, a blue sulfur fart scented face mask, and had removed the headband from my hair-sprayed hair so my bangs were sticking up in a “There’s Something About Mary” style. Need a visual?
There you go. I hope it gives you nightmares, because let’s level here – it’s pretty frightening. Anyways, I ignored the knocks and prayed for them to go away. Guilt set in as I knew whomever was on the other side of the door could clearly tell that I was home as I was ambling about rather loudly and talking on the phone. Adding to the guilt, was the fact my new upstairs neighbors were moving in. Convinced that they needed help or were gregariously offering their friendship to me I swallowed my pride and somehow convinced myself to answer the door in all my glory.
When I opened it I saw three well-dressed woman, with a u-haul behind them – parked in my driveway. I began conversing with them, believing them to be my new neighbors. Then this happened: “Anyway, we just wanted to let you know that our Sugarhouse Singles Ward moved and we want to give you a schedule of our new events!” These were not my new neighbors. They were Mormons. “There will so SO MANY cute boys there,” they promised. In case you’re unaware of LDS lingo, Singles wards are set up in areas with high populations of single adults. Basically it’s where Mormons go to find someone to dry hump and eventually marry and reproduce with. While I can now think of a hundred witty things I could have said in response to this – at the time I was literally in shock. Not to mention I looked ridiculous.
Clearly I was enthralled. Cute boys, for someone who has identified as a lesbian for about a decade now, is exciting. All I wanted was their cute little peens, floating in my cute little geen (I am using Mo lingo so I apologize if you don’t understand). Sidenote: google Mormon floating. It basically involves inserting the p into the v and not moving. Your supposed to think about scriptures and shit but mostly I think the guy finds way to adjust (aka sneezing, or a muscle twitch) to feel a little loving.
I have seriously digressed. I need to make it from point a to b with this person:
Meet Sarah Meeks. Here she is giving it to me doggy style. We’re always appropriate, always classy, and I’m not worried at all that we have virtually no plan about driving cross country besides that we eventually want to land somewhere on the east coast. I think Sarah’s facebook messages to me over the last couple of weeks summate how well this experience is going to unfold:
Sarah: I think as long as we BOTH dont get roofied simultaneously we should be good as gold.
Sarah: I think we should consider relying only on a compass to get us back to the east coast. It’s like a sweet combination of old world/new world.
Sarah: One of my reps just said “What do you mean you don’t have a plan. Is it gonna be like grab your favorite 12 pack of beer and Thelma and Louise drive across the country?”
I replied “pretty much”
Sarah: The only thing I know for sure is that…. I wanna meet some really great people in some really divey places. And by “places” I mean bars.
Oh yes, This is going to end well. And by “well” I mean see you on either “I shouldn’t be Alive” or “Unsolved Mysteries.”