Well, of course I do. I’ll bet you do too, since you’re hanging out here with me.
Y’all know I went to Missouri a few weeks back to see my family, right? There’s just nothing like a family vacation or a Clan Coffee Klatch, at least when we’re talking about my clan. They’re amazing. (Who else would’ve answered all my whacked out questions about chickens?) Still, when I visited, I didn’t expect to find so much Dirty Minded Signage while I was driving around.
I’ve gotten used to the Springfield, MO convenience stores that don’t seem to make anyone else pause.
It took me a few visits to take that place in stride. The first time, I sat in the passenger seat while my husband pumped gas, clutching my sides, pointing at the sign and gasping for air. Maybe it was the little registered trademark symbol they include (like someone’s dying to steal that logo). Maybe it was jetlag.
I was doing fine until we passed the Rowdy Beaver. (Yeah, for real…and they have MULTIPLE LOCATIONS. The newest is on Dickson Street. I mean, what were they thinking? They couldn’t go a few blocks over to Percy or Main or wherever?)
After that, it was a free for all – we were in hysterics about everything we passed. The God And Country Theater was across from Billy Bob’s Dairyland. The Ragin’ Rhino Tattoo parlor was just down from the Hillbilly Kitchen. Plus, we started using Leanne Shirtliffe’s (aka The Ironic Mom’s) trick of adding “if you know what I mean“ on the end of every name. (Be sure to read her post when you’re done here…it’s stellar.)
It didn’t matter if it was funny or not, it was hilarious to us. I mean, you try passing a billboard that says ”Ride The Ducks!…if you know what I mean.” Go ahead…add it to all the businesses in this post. (Two words: Coffee. Snort.) You’ll see.
When my Branson-dwelling cousin got to the lodge that night for the fish fry, I demanded to know what was up with the Rowdy Beaver. He smiled and said, “Oh, it’s got a great bar. But we don’t call it The ‘Rowdy Beaver.’” I (of course) wanted to know what he did call it, figuring the locals had classed it up a little.
He blushed to the roots of his hair and mumbled that he’d tell me later, rolling his eyes toward his parents and the older folk. Well, you’ve already seen what the “older folk” will discuss in last Monday’s blog on chickens (referenced above…can anyone say “gang bang?”).
No topic is sacred with my family so they dragged it out of him, much to my satisfaction. Rather than call it the Rowdy Beaver, Bransonites (dunno if that is even a word) refer to the place as “The Angry Vagina.”
I doubled over laughing at this, staggering around the kitchen. Possibly I tinkled a little. “What else do you have,” I wheezed. “There’s got to be more.”
“Well,” he says, “we do go over to The Bearded Clam in Kimberling City sometimes.”
I looked at my uncle. “He’s making that up, right?”
My uncle shook his head and said, “It used to be worse before they closed the bait shop next door.”
I asked what could possibly be worse than naming an eating establishment “The Bearded Clam.” And they said the old bait shop was called, “Master Baiters.” Swear. To. God.
I had to race to the bathroom at that point (cuz you know, your “floor” drops when you have a baby and laughing your guts out gets a “wee bit” embarrassing.)
And do you know the super-duper worst part of this story? The Bearded Clam is billed as a family restaurant. Only in the Bible Belt would there be minds clean enough to eat there with a straight face. I’ll bet they all wear Christian Panties for dinner. Amen.
NOTE to Natalie Hartford: They have Hoodie Sweatshirts stamped “Bearded Clam, Authentic Apparel.” (Like anyone would worry about a knock-off Bearded Clam Hoodie.) You might need some of these for your Twisted Tuesday!
It’s true that my family members aren’t the ones who own these establishments, but still…
Then we visited the Lake of the Ozarks…and saw the kicker. I still can’t believe anyone would name their hotel this but I guess it does leave an impression on people.
Do you suppose they get a lot of multiple visitors? Or just one good one each night? (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
The name of the place really is Big Dick’s Halfway Inn (you know you’re clicking that link). If you stay at this resort the next time you’re at the Lake of the Ozarks, please write to me about it!
I tell you, this trip put a whole new spin on the “Show Me” state thing. Since most of “my people” live there, I’ve concluded that I derive from some pervy stock. Who knew, right?
What makes you laugh on family trips? Do you have some places with signs and such that crack you up? Enquiring minds always want to know here at More Cowbell!
SAVE THE DATE! There’s less than two days left before our ginormous ROCK THE ROW(80) Twitter Party. It’s gonna be an amazing shindig – click here for all the details and be sure to go find all the other posts referenced down in the comments. We’re gonna light up the Twitterverse!!!