My "light" is pukish-green and it manisfests itself in the form of lovingly shared bodily odors. It's odor-rific, is what it is! Yeah, seventh grade humor is still fresh in my mind. Hey. It could be worse. I could find smashing watermelons to be the height of comedy.
Here is another funny thing to do: Whilst belted securely in the car, and with the camera cord secured tightly around your wrist, lean out the window [the automobile should be traveling at least 65 miles per hour, but 80 is better] and open your mouth and take a picture of your face. I'll guarantee one thing: If you have been on the road for eleven and a half hours, tired and slappy, the digital capture will leave you hitching in the chest and gasping for breath, you'll be laughing so hard. Then again, when you look at said picture a couple of days later, with your mind loaded down with thoughts of work and murky maturity, it won't seem quite as funny and, in fact, the picture will make you think to yourself, "Well, hell, this is what I'd look like if I had the misfortune to become a waterlogged corpse! I'll be damned!"
It's hideous. It disgusts me, but it's funny.
Anyway. That's it. I had a great time seeing my sisters and my brothers-in-law. Also, I learned that if one wants to get a kick-ass burrito whilst in Duluth, Minnesota, one can't do any better than a burrito from Burrito Union. Damn fine grub. They come in one-fisted and two-fisted sizes. I went with the two-fisted pork burrito. I think it was called The Capitalist. There is a definite Marxist theme to the restaurant, don't ask me why.
I said don't ask.