04 November 2000


So Angela has conned me in to driving her down to Atlanta for a concert. Honestly, I really knew nothing any of the bands she was oozing over, but I figured it would be an interesting road trip and worth my time. We started off fairly early in the morning and it probably took about 10 hours and just over 700 miles to get to atlanta. We barely touched the ground.
This is why I don't put political stickers on my car. These people haven't done anything to me (except sit in the passing lane when they should get over for my supersonic neon) and I already hate them. With a passion.
A lot of road. img_1239.jpg img_1240.jpg img_1241.jpg
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img_1258.jpg Superstar Angela poses at our hotel, the Buckhead Sleep Inn. Scary. Later she poses with a picture of the band she worships. Later still, she and her friend Brad gossip about various minutae of the bands. I zoned out as I adjusted to the world not zipping past at 80 mph and I felt like I was on an alien planet. Instead, I was on a really ugly bedspread.