sham wedding/hoax funeral

off to sell fried chicken all over the southland for a few days. Older relatives have banded together, and somehow convinced younger relatives that as adorable as Chucky Cheese is, they shouldn't hold their wedding reception there. I CALL BULLSHIT. Totes disappointed.

I haven't driven through the greater Memphis area in at least a year; that alone is always good for a story or twelve. Or at least catfish n serious bbq.

(Also noted: I'm beyond ecstatic that Catherine was able to provide me a theme song for said trip. If ONLY we were going to LR. But that is the big city, folks, and we are simple country mice.)