Ace, Bandit, the Grunion, and I went to Rusty's condo in Branson this last weekend. After spending 7-10 hours a day filling out inane online job applications I figured a mini-vacation was warranted. We left on Friday at exactly 5pm. 20 minutes down the road I realized that I had not packed any shirts (I guess I thought I would be going shirtless the whole time). After going back for my shirts we left at exactly 5:20. Dammit!
We got to the condo (located on beautiful Lake Taney Como) at about 7pm. The fog was rolling in over the lake and even though it was still 92 degrees outside Rusty thought it would be best for us all to sit out on the non-air conditioned porch.
I wore a headband as a subtle protest (and to catch sweat), but to no avail. I was apparently the only one sweating.
Luckily, I brought plenty of medicine for the trip. Let's see...oh yes...a jug of the Ozark Brewing Company's Fat Boy blueberry ale. Excellent choice, Gibby (more on this brew in future posts). After the jug of Fat Boy, the decor of the condo started to give me the fear. Specifically, this frightening two-headed bear tree stump tchotchke that was staring at me from a boat-shaped hutch behind the toilet. Wha?
Also in the the bathroom, this clearly depressed bear action figure with a soap nozzle coming out of his head. Wha2?
Over the dining table was this "chandelier" made of deer antlers. It reminded me of that old cautionary tale for deer babies I had heard as a child.
Deer Mommy: So if you don't stay quiet and hidden, the hunters will shoot you.
Deer Babies: What happens to you after they shoot you?
Deer Mommy: They strap you to the hood of an old junky truck (I know this from movies) and then they make chandeliers out of your antlers.
Deer Babies: WTF? What the hell is wrong with humans?
The oar banisters were kinda cool, but when I asked Rusty what was upstairs he said "nothing". I asked Rusty why they even bothered to make an upstairs if there was nothing up there and he shrugged and said "oar-ange you glad you don't have to walk up those stairs". Rusty rocks sometimes.
I discovered later that Rusty was clearly attempting to distract us from going upstairs in an attempt to hide this poster which apparently has something to do with baseball. Right.
Rusty decided to impress us with his sommelier skills by scouring the gas station near the condo to select a cold duck faux champagne made by ANDRE and a WHITE MERLOT made by Beringer. We all declined to sample them.
Rusty also continued his reign as THE go-to DJ for all occasions by spinning us a selection of CDs he had purchased at garage sales and flea markets-none of which cost over 25 cents. The skipping of the CDs due to the scratches definitely added a fresh sound to Hall and Oates' greatest hits volume 7...
The next day we went to the condo pool, but there was a strict no beverage policy and the kiddie pool added like 25 pounds in pictures (see how fat the grunion looks?) so we left after an hour.
We drove around Branson and:
We saw some obviously suicidal people riding the transport to their deaths.
We went to a store that Rusty wanted to go to. No, I can't make this stuff up people....
And we went to the Titanic exhibit/museum/ugly people walking around thing. I will sum up the Branson Titanic experience with one sentence. Photography was prohibited because of what they called "copyright issues", but we quickly surmised that it was actually to prevent the leakage of visual evidence of the suckitude. My rating: 5 out of 10 (because it was air conditioned).
On the way back to the condo, we saw this nightclub/restaurant. And we knew that we had discovered the true heart of Branson. Sinatra dinner show at 4:30! Awesome. That, my friends, is Branson.