Notes on Hotlanta

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My husband was parked outside of Atlanta last night. Of course he’s going to go to my hometown when I’m not on the truck, that’s how it always is. He asks to go West with less than 32,000 pounds, they send him North through the mountains with 44,000 pounds. We ask to go to Atlanta, they send us to Memphis. They are awesome. (This is sarcasm and keeps me compliant in the agreement I made with a nice man in legal.) In some companies, being a leased owner-operator is much like being a company driver with a truck payment. I think Charles Barkley would say, “It’s turrible.”

Anyway, he’s out there running his ass off right now, in between Memphis and Atlanta, in some dicey places. I love you, Atlanta, but you get a little freaky on the fringes, out there in East Point and down by the airport. Ya’ll know it, don’t hate. Embrace it.

I was on the phone with him, listening to the CB in the background through his headset.

“Hello boys, this is Candy Cane.”

“AHMAGAD it’s a Lot Lizard – turn it up! Holy crap, I cannot believe you’re going to see a Lot Lizard when I’m not there. You better get pictures.”

“I’m afraid you don’t know how weird that just sounded, and no. I am not going to take pictures of a Lot Lizard while I’m by myself in Atlanta.”

“Oh come on.  Totally for journalistic purposes. I need some Lizard pics for the blog.  Also Sasquatch, if you see him.”

“I’m so glad no one else hears you.”

“Hello boys, Candy Cane got the sugar.”

“Oh my lord, you’ve got to talk to her. Let me talk to her, hold the phone up to the mic on speaker.”

“Hell. No.”

“Babe, I need to know things, I want to write about Lot Lizards, people are infinitely interested in them. It’s for work.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I’ll tell the vice squad when they’re hauling me out of my truck for solicitation. Solicitation is not a good career move. You can’t talk to these women on the radio. It’s not a good idea. Hell, she might be talking about drugs, I have no idea. I just found out a commercial was a date, that’s new to me. Lingo changes, I don’t really pay attention.”

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“You’re getting the best new info, I’m totally jealous. I really need a picture of a Lizard. “

“You still don’t know how weird it is that you’re glad I’m in a seedy part of Atlanta crawling with professionals.”

“It’s research, I bet we could take it off on our taxes. You’re allowed so much for entertainment.”

“What’s she going to do, write me a receipt that says, ‘We just talked for fifty dollars. Love, Tangerine’, that I can produce for the CPA?”

“You’re right. We’ll submit it under medical as a therapeutic expense.”

“We are not submitting it at all, I’m not talking to a Lot Lizard tonight, we are not having this weird conversation any more.”

“It’s work!”

“You know, I’m wearing a brand-new headset. I can hear you blink in this thing. And it has an Australian chick in it who talks really nice to me.”

“Well I hate her AND the Qualcomm lady; they can both go straight to hell.”

“Well that’s very grown up of you.”

“Suck it.”

“I love you too.”

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