Oklahoma Chainsaw Massacre

A few nights ago, Brandon and I were driving to Bartlesville, to visit my Jeannine-sister. We took a short-cut through some country back-roads, and as we drove, I realized something about myself.

I am definitely a city girl. Being in the country at night made me so nervous. All I could think about are those retarded horror movies where the car breaks down near the creepy farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere, and the teenagers knock on the door to use the phone, and the inbred residents kidnap, torture, hack them up, and then eat them. Raw.

Brandon is the opposite. He grew up in Claremore, and he drove country roads all the time. They make him feel safe and secure.

I made him lock the doors as we were going 60 mph.

Later that night, we drove through north Tulsa, and I felt perfectly fine. Crazy? Maybe. But when we are driving through Romona, OK and we see some guy standing all by himself in the rain in the middle of the road, and he's missing an eye, I am NOT stopping to see if he can give us directions.