Drive to the 405: Day 3 Diary Of Life On The Road By Billy Football (edited by PFT)

Just for honestys sake I should mention that I had to for the first time make an edit to the headline of one of these blogs. Again, Billy has been instructed to not read any of the final blogs I put up after theyre published to preserve the integrity of his consciousness. I'm pretty sure he's followed the instructions so far but I highly doubt he can keep it up for an entire night. We'll see if his writing style changes tomorrow.

-PFT 

So I have been alerted that I did not finish the day 2 blog and trailed off. What happened is after a high-stress day I said fuck it I'm done writing ("I didn't give up, I just said "fuck it"") then handed PFT my computer in the car the next morning saying I didn't finish this yet. I was just sitting in front of the fire at the bass pro shop and decided to go to bed (what Billy happened to be drinking or not drinking in front of the fire is inconsequential. There was a fire. All you need to know) . Waking up to the sobering fact there was a nail in the back left tire that had been slowly leaking since Cincinnati was a bummer. 

I wanted to just patch it up with a patch kit real quick and get back on the road but apparently, PFT said "The puncture is too close to the sidewall and the heavy driving we are doing could cause it to blow out", (I love how Billy writes down his recollection of conversations with me like someone else had told him about it. Its smart to use the word "apparently" and turn any first hand testimony you give into hearsay. The next OJ book should be called "Apparently, I got carried away") in retrospect I agree it would probably blow it somewhere between Winslow and LA but I was pissed we had to pay other men to cuck us and do labor on our truck. We got moving and bounced around to find a tire place. I wanted to stick to the highway to ensure that whatever garage we stopped at was most likely at a rest stop that had food and rest stop. 

The first place PFT tried to get us to go to was next to 2 burnt out buildings and would leave us standing outside waiting like sitting ducks in a place where the only other people walking the street were 65-year-old prostitutes, who I respect the fuck out of because on that icy morning in sub 19-degree weather was (were) some of the only people working (Zoomers could learn a important lesson from these working women about sucking it up and the dignity that comes with performing a honest days work. Thats the problem nobody wants to work any more in this country smh) Most restaurants were closed (remember we hadn't eaten a snack since northern Kentucky) and their workforce works INSIDE, these working women were out IN THE GODDAMN ICE RAIN (sleet) WORKIN (skeet)! That's GRIT.

(I'm going to preface this next line with the fact that I have to assume Billy meant to put this line in another part of the blog about the romance package left in my hotel room, but then deleted the entire rest of the paragraph?) btw PFT may have facilitated relations in the room with the couple, strictly professional.

The squad thought the closest tire replacement was most likely the best!... We ended up in West Memphis in Arkansas with the fairytale idea there would be somewhere for us to walk to eat while the tire got changed. We ended up in a Sonic Drive-In without a car standing outside shivering our asses off till the lady brought us out our food. There was no dine-in, just parking spots, we had no car it was in the shop, we were 4 grown-ass men ordering while standing in a parking spot. 

(This conversation actually happened during our Sonic order as the four of us stood in the freezing cold (snapchat steve wearing shorts)-

Sonic employee: Will that be all?

Billy with a very serious tone in his voice: Uh yeah, also I noticed that you brought out bags for other drivers. We're going to be walking so can we have bags that we can use to carry our food instead?

Sonic employee: (waits no joke 5 complete seconds to process what Billy said) Um, I'm not exactly sure what you just asked me for

PFT: bags. He would like bags

Sonic employee: Ok. Yes we'll put your food in a bag

Car was ready when we got back thankfully. Arkansas driving was decent, Oklahoma was when I really felt we hit the west.

First rest stop we hit, I threw on my cowboy boots and expensed (Not bought *devil emoji*) a cowboy hat that I currently rock (I swear to god he writes these blogs like Im not going to read them. What really happened was once we hit Oklahoma we decided to enter the fun hat portion of the road trip.Billy tried to expense the hats but I told him that 90 dollars worth of hats felt like they were just a little unessacary so I put them on my personal card. I make 90 thousand dollars a episode I can afford hats). We were out west. Just remembering at this point since waking up at 9 am I have consumed 8 Black rifle coffees with my supplement mixture of l-theanine 500mg and 1000mg of Lions Mane mushrooms. It was currently 3 pm eating Wendys. (You will be forgiven if you cant follow Billys description of time. It sounds like if Joe Rogan wrote interstellar. )

*Pft please delete this if this isn't PC* (I deleted the fuck out of the next two sentences) Look if it was a major city I wouldn't bat an eye but 3 guys in Oklahoma with an expensive rental car and tons of surveyal in the back triggers my  senses. (Deleted another sentence entirely) the CCP's consultative Leninism more than most Americans. 

Anyway, after a big-time push to Oklahoma, we once again participated in a road trip game called 20 questions. (The Whiplash from these two previous sentences back to back is just unreal. Billys brain is a strobe light) The premise is one person picks a person everyone would know the name of. in 20 questions the other 3 individuals have to guess who the 4th is thinking off. For example, I had Sean Kingston in my head, no one got him in 20 questions because they asked "is he a rapper?" and "Is he from atlanta?" never consider he might be from outside the U.S.A. It was Sean Kingston, who I thought was born in Jamaica but apparently, he is from Miami. Later in the drive, I got them on Rachel Dolezal.  (he seriously wrote this part because he was so proud of his pick of Rachel Dolezal which stumped us. He was taunting us about how he could give us 30 questions and we'd never guess. That was the last round of the contest because everyone rolled their eyes so hard.. Ruined the game)

then we hit amarillo

Unfortunately, I have been looking forward to house the Amarillo 72 oz steak challenge but the tire debacle sent us way too late and on Friday night I would not eat the monster steak. (More on this tomorrow...)

This is a blessing in disguise because my professional boxing license just expired meaning my hands are no longer registered as weapons (I too have watched Con Air). Lowkey a year ago I TKO'd a dude who was jacked but his blood pressure was way too high to fight (he quit when he realized it was a legit fight). 

What that means is I can go war mode on this steak tomorrow with all my aggression. (Just to be clear Billy did indeed knock out Jose Canseco last year. What this has to do with a steak, besides both being overgrown pieces of hormone injected meat that Billy fights is anyone guess. I think he just wanted to remind you about it) 10 am is the plan, they nicely had a billboard for us when we rolled in late at night after they closed. We ended up in a great seafood place where we ate gator bites and drank margaritas (hehehe since it is a work trip we could expense all the margaritas with *good tequila* we want. smd (redacted as a favor for Billys job security) 

Currently drinking Coors light while writing this because I've been keeping the back of the truck constantly stacked. (Hey did you guys know Billy was drinking beer while writing this? I got my first clue when I started to read it. I also opened up his computer to edit this piece and he had an ABBA party mix on his spotify that autoplayed. Still unless there's actual visual evidence of Billy being drunk while writing this, he can claim satire.)

Insert pic of me with Coors light 

(I feel like the most exasperated defense attorney of all time)

Got to Amarillo, the place is awesome but just to point out it smells like a livestock barn. No matter where we drive the smell of hay and poop from animals that eat hay follows. I remember it from back when I lived in the barn but the boys don’t appreciate the smell.

We helped a low rider trucker push his whip out the snow. (We were in a best-in-class Chevy Silverado, the other guy was not. It was such an alpha move on our part to step out of our big ass truck and help this lil guy get his lil truck out of the lil intersection) It was partly our fault because he slowed down only to let us into the one-way road he was driving the wrong way down. He was a ginger Mexican dude with a mullet which I absolutely know he was descended from the Irish men who fought for the Spanish in the Mexican-American war (I have the same look on my face that you do right now).

Insert that pushing video (This video doesn't exist yet. It will be in our vlog)

I also almost killed snap chat steve accidently today. We pulled up to the hotel and I rolled up asked everyone to get their gear out and I would park the car. After a good amount of time (I was on my phone texting, looking at social, and calling) for the first time in 4 hours (fact check: we had just left dinner which took about an hour and a half where Billy was on your his phone the entire time) before I took the truck out of park) I pulled the truck out the roundabout to park it. Apparently, Snapchat steve was still climbing in the bed of the truck trying to get a bag deep under the bed cover. Everyone is accusing me of almost killing him. 

remember i am (Billy once again kind of trailed off to end another blog, this time it appears it was mid-excuse. If I'm a forensic detective I would guess Billy was coming up with another reason why he was one fast turn away from vehicular homicide but then he couldn't think of another way to rationalize it and just closed his computer instead, quitting because he couldn't find a good enough lie.)