Perform a U-Jun When Possible

Over the last three weeks, Ari and I have heard the robotic, vaguely Asian voice of our GPS bark at us to "perform a u-jun" many, many times.  At first it was annoying; then it was a running joke; now it's honestly the way we say "u-turn," which is a little disturbing. 

I was going to wait until we got home to start telling you about all the things that have happened to us, which is still basically my plan, but I've really been missing my blog (in the moments between mind-blowingly-awesome things), so here is a quick teaser to hold you over for the next five days.

Funny things we've said on our honeymoon because we are creative geniuses:

Me:  Hey, people in Salt Lake City actually do the speed limit.
Ari:  And why do you think that is?
Me:  Because they're Mormon?
Ari:  Exactly.

Me:  Hey, it looks really windy today.  I should wear a skirt!
(I flashed an entire Denny's parking lot because of this.  Luckily no one was there.)

Ari:  I wonder what kind of factory that is.
(we pass a sign that says CEMENT FACTORY ROAD)
Ari:  Stupid sign!  Ruining my curiosity with its answers!

(extremely large car cuts us off on the Interstate and speeds away at what must have been 200 miles per hour)
Me:  I hope they're happy now.
Ari:  I hope they die.

(as we pass two cars blocking the driveway to a remotely-located KOA while the drivers lean out the windows talking)
Ari:  Your drug deal is weird.

(Ari hands me an envelope)
Ari:  Lick.
Me:  Why do I have to lick it?
Ari:  Because it's awful.

(as Ari rinses his hair in ice-cold water at a campground spigot)
Me:  Can I do anything for you?
Ari:  Make it stop being awful!
(Ari really likes to call things awful.)

Ari:  Listen to me!  I am speaking words!
(I can't remember what he was saying that he so desperately wanted me to hear... probably because I wasn't listening.)

Ari:  I'm not sure I want to use a port-a-potty with the name HONEY BUCKET.  That's not a euphemism I'm okay with.
(I'm with you on that one, Hubs.)

Ari:  Why are all the casinos in Montana so little and horrible?
(We saw several extremely seedy casinos in Montana.  They were made of cinderblocks and underprivileged children's college tuition.  Most of them advertised in bright, neon letters that they had 24-hour laundromats.  I guess when you're desperate enough to gamble in a tiny, rundown shanty, you only have the one outfit and must keep washing it daily.)

I hope this will appease you guys for now.  Sorry it doesn't have pictures.  I'm typing this in a dark tent right now, THAT'S how devoted I am.  When we get home I'll go back to being funny and drawing things.  Please don't take all your Internet love away from me.

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