Welcome to Parkersburg - and yeah, the population number is correct. I didn't leave a zero off the end, if that's what you're wondering. Parkersburg, Illinois is where my beloved Mach One spent his formative years. He managed to break away when he was 22 - who feels compelled to sing the Kelly Clarkson "Breakaway" song right now? Feel free, I don't mind. Singing is good for the soul. And the song is very biographical for Mach One. Except for the palm tree part. The first time he saw a palm tree was on our honeymoon in 1993. That's because he grew up in Parkersburg and never went anywhere. See how it all comes back, full circle? Speaking of full circle - and we were, weren't we? We travel back to Mach One's roots every couple years. I know you think I suck out loud for only visiting every two years but it takes 8 hours to drive there. The only thing I like to do for 8 hours straight is sleep - just sayin'. And once you get to Parkersburg, there's nothing there. So you drive for 8 hours to do nothing. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Um yeah, no.
Let me give you a little tour of Pburg - that's what the "locals" call it. You might want to grab a caffienated drink while we're on our little tour. Unless you suffered from insomnia last night and were wide awake at 3:07 am. If that's the case, Pburg will definitely turn you into a narcoleptic. No medication required.
Pburg has its own water tower. Who knew? This is right outside of Mach One's childhood home. The home that is 1000 square feet and boasts one bathroom. That's right off the kitchen. And there were 5 kids in his family - who now have spouses and spawn of their own. I think I counted close to 20 people in the house at one time. Did I mention there's one bathroom? That's right off the kitchen? Who can crap under those circumstances? Not me - just sayin'. So not only do I drive 8 hours to do nothing - but I don't shit for 3 days. Aren't you glad you know that? You can live a full life, now that you're well versed in my bowels. But I digress - here's the water tower. I have no idea what the hell it's for. What are water towers for?
Pburg is also chock full of all kinds of crazy ass creatures. Things that I've never seen before in my life and could have died quite happily if our paths would have never crossed. For example, raise your hand if you've ever seen these?
Now raise your hand if you threw up a little in your mouth when you saw this picture. Be honest. Did they make you want to hurl? I had to choke back the vomit when I was taking the picture - just sayin'. For those that don't hail from Pburg, these are locust shells. I always thought a locust was a grasshopper. Apparently I'm not smarter than a 5th grader - big surprise there. The locusts climb up trees and then shed their skin or some shit. I have no idea what they do. But The Girl is enamored by all of these things. What the hell are they - are they shells? Let's call them shells. She likes to collect them and then watch her chubby mom scream like a school girl when she brings them within a mile of me. Locusts and their shells - hate them.
This is my father-in-law. Isn't he cute? This is exactly what Mach One is going to look like when he's 66 - or however old my father-in-law is. Isn't that nice that I don't know? His name is Billy - but he goes by Bill. I think he looks like a Billy. I think he's showing The Girl somebody's egg sac. Whose egg sac - I haven't a clue. I'm just glad it wasn't a nut sac. Which in Pburg isn't out of the realm of possibility. But my father-in-law is among the list - albeit a short list - of things I like in Pburg.
Apparently Mach One's family is considered royalty in Pburg. I married the Prince of Pburg - who knew? I think I may get thirty acres and a mule if Mach One ever decides to dump me. Or he may have had to pay 30 chickens for my hand in marriage. Or maybe that was only if I was from Pburg - which I wasn't - let's just be clear about that. Back to the royal bloodline. Pburg - despite it's near non-presence on a map - boasts it's own cemetary. And it's free. Shit like that doesn't happen around here. You have to shell out some lettuce to get your ass stuck in the ground in these parts. The far corner of the cemetary houses Mach One's relatives. So why not take a family photo while we're there. I have no idea who these people were but the stone was from the 1800's and it said "Our Beloved Sons" - one of whom was 10 years old. We think. A stone that old is a little hard to read. But isn't that sad? Thanks for letting us take our picture with you, whoever you are. Mach One's long lost cousins or something. May God rest all of your souls. And I'm sorry you never made it out of Pburg. Amen.
While were were in the country and forced to smell the feces of every farm animal within a 20 mile radius, I encouraged Mach One to find us some pigs for the children to play with. Clearly, I've watched Charlotte's Web way too many times. I envisioned The Girl cuddling a little, pink piglet. Or The Boy snout to snout with a spring pig. Instead, this is what I got...
See all that black stuff? That'd be poop. I can't even begin to explain the depth of the stench. There are really no words. Mach One didn't notice it at all. I was gagging up my lunch and he was like, "I don't smell anything." His smeller is ruined from his years in Pburg. Pig poop - put that on the "dislike" list.
We saw cows too. Did you know that cow was a generic term? I always thought that "cow" meant a girl cow - with udders. These were cows with penises. I almost passed out when I saw that they had penises. I had visions of my city kids being gorged by the unbridled testosterone of these male bovine. Then Mach One explained that while they did indeed have penises - which he didn't have to explain because they were pretty obvious, even to a city chick like me - they were lacking the twins. So they might as well be girl cows. But don't try to milk them - just sayin.' I liked this guy. He looks sad, doesn't he? Probably sad that someone chopped his nuts off AND he's going to end up on a dinner table near you...
He wanted to be my friend, I could tell. He kept inching closer and closer. But then I think The Boy farted and then The Girl cut her finger on a piece of grass. How the hell she managed to do that, I'll never know. And then the magic spell was broken and he went back to eating the grass that had nearly severed my daughter's digit. But for a split second, he wanted to be my friend.
One of the best parts of the trip was of course, seeing the family. Mach One has three brothers and one sister - all of whom have reproduced quite nicley. I will say that Mach One is the only brother who has managed to send forth a Y sperm into battle. Thus making The Boy the lone male grandchild to carry on the family name. And making him the only dude amongst a gaggle of girls - everywhere he goes. Poor guy - he's pretty well adjusted considering his circumstances. Here are the majority of the cousins - the teenage girls weren't interested in straddling the slide for a photo op - imagine that.
So there you have it - Pburg at a glance. Now you know why we only visit every two years. Actually the real reason is because it takes that long for my bowels to recover - just sayin'...