Furry Lover

My mother says I am a furry lover. Do you know know what a furry is? Well, it's important for you to know to fully understand what I am blogging about? So go here, and drink! Drink the Kool-Aid!

We'll just sit here and wait.

Back?

Ha! I made you look up furries! And you probably did that at work, no less! Ahhh fun times.

Anyway, I saw the Honey Baked Ham Mascot out and about on the Chicago streets the other day. And I. Went. Nuts.

See, I have a thing about running up and hugging people dressed up like mascots. No, for real. It's a weird thing with me. Which is why Eric and I had so much fun when we went to Disney World a couple years ago.

My sister Julie is the same way. She saw the Burger King the other day downtown. You know, this guy:

[caption id="attachment_472" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The King of Breaking and Entering"][/caption]

She ended up running after him. She just wanted a hug and an autograph. But none for her. As she put it, "They hired a fricken Olympic sprinter or something. That dude was FAST."

Not every mascot makes me happy though. This is the story of my attack on the Shoney's Bear.

See, my mother wanted to take a road trip to South Carolina to visit with some family members. The problem is - my mother hates tunnels that run under things - rivers, mountains, large buildings, the obese.

My sister also wanted to go along, but she doesn't have a driver's license. All signs pointed to me driving to South Carolina with them.

Now, I should stop here and state that I like my family in South Carolina. I just don't like driving. In the south. At all.

So, after going to work at 3 a.m., I came home, and promptly ate a jar of jalapeños, drank four RedBulls, and got into the car, and started driving. See, if I was going to be tortured by having to drive in the south, I was going to torture everyone else in the car with me.

By the time we passed over the Mason-Dixon, I was sleep deprived, cranky, and had a severe caffeine headache. And every exit we passed had a Shoney's sign. Every. Single. Exit. And I do not know what my problem was, but every time I saw that idiot bear waving on a billboard, I got a little angrier. By the time we passed into South Carolina, I was livid. The was no reasonable explanation for why I was so angry, other than, you know, the sleep deprivation, the driving, the unspeakable urge for people to not get the frick out of the passing lane, etc.

But all my anger seemed to manifest in one large billboard bear.

So, upon leaving South Carolina, I was much calmer. I had a great vacation, saw some family, took some pictures at the South Carolina state capital.

And then, upon driving down the highway, we decide to stop at a Waffle House to get a bite to eat. We sit down in a booth, and I look out the window, and I see him.

A real life Shoney's Bear.

I grab my coat, and try to force my way out of the booth. I need to find a piece of wood, or a baseball bat, because I need to KICK THIS BEAR'S ASS. My mother and sister restrain me, but I am seeing red.

I don't know why, but that man in that bear suit enraged me so much I almost went on a Bear-beating spree.

Luckily, there weren't any Shoney Bears in Disney World, otherwise Michael Eisner would still have me chained underneath the It's A Small World ride.