Praise the Lewd

Before we met up with the rest of the kids to start the journey we grabbed a quick breakfast with my stepmother.

She moved from one coast to the other after my dad passed away nearly nine years ago.

The five of us had breakfast at Bob Evans.

Baltimore's version of Denny’s.

I had Bob’s version of a chili-cheese omelette with potatoes and biscuits.

Don’t worry, I got the egg whites.

Diet?

We don’t need no stinkin’ diet.

Knowing full well that nutrition won’t be an option on this trip, I thought spending 44 minutes on the hotel elliptical machine this morning would make a lot of sense.

So I got my butt up at 7:30.

The rest of me came about a half hour later.

Midway through my huffing and puffing a nice lady came in to take on the empty treadmill next to me.

One of my rituals when I work out is listening to Howard Stern.

Something about mixing smut with sweat makes for a perfect calorie burner.

Of course I always use headphones.

I would hate to offend anyone.

I guess she didn’t feel the same.

While I was listening to Howard, she grabbed the remote and flipped on the teevee.

Turned on some guy named Joel Osteen.

If it wasn’t Sunday morning I wouldn’t know Joel Osteen from Claude Osteen.

But I quickly figured out that he was one of them TV Evangelists.

And I learned even quickerer that the lady next to me LOVES him.

So much so that she turned the volume up.

To 42.

Really.

I counted.

And as she walked, she smiled.

And laughed.

And as I elllipticalled, I smiled.

And laughed.

Two different people.

Listening to two COMPLETELY different shows.

Having the same reaction.

Ain’t that America.