Dry Counties, Wet counties, and the Painted Man

- Author's note: I'm writing this in my underpants in the pitch black in a Mississippi State Forest. If I was any hotter, my eyeballs would melt out of my skull. On a completely unrelated note, we decided to head deeper south tomorrow. Good choice, team.

A brief dialogue from last night when Taylor tried to buy beer in Canton, Tx.

Taylor - "Excuse me, do you know where I can buy beer around here?"

Store Clerk (Insert heavy twang here) - "26 miles that way, sweetie. You're in a dry county."

I honestly didn't know that those still existed. Not that cool, in my book. Canton is a rad little cowboy town, though. Taylor fulfilled her "every girl has a cowboy fantasy" by eyeing the young fella' on the side of us who was blasting a song in his giant pickup truck that went a little something like:

"Come take a ride on my big green tractor," etc, etc. Whatever. I'm gonna go find some farmer's daughter to ogle over. No big deal.

Today we drove from Canton, TX to Morton, MS. We're in a great campground right on a lake that only cost us $11. The only weird thing about Mississippi is that tattooed folk must be a rarity. People stare at us like a man of fire just got out of that van. Taylor and I have encountered a few folks who refuse to make eye contact with us, but for the most part, the people here seem pretty cool.

Here is photo documentation of the hottest person in the world. Taylor and I just played a mean game of tennis in the 100 degree heat. This faucet was a life saver. It also functioned as a shower in the morning.



Here is our $11 camp spot. You were supposed to dig a hole if you wanted to doo-doo. I opted out.



Taylor made a delicious dinner as usual. We kind of have a deal that if I drive all day, she'll cook. It works out pretty well.



We totally made our first camp friends. We met some dudes from NY that were heading to New Mexico. Kind of our trip in reverse. Frank and Jeremy where their names. Jeremy was heading to Roswell, NM to do a photography project, and Frank was just along for the ride. Good dudes. We drank beers, listened to Otis Redding, and talked around the fire. Bon Voyage, fellas.