Famous Potatoes.

Our car officially became an Idahoan today. Kels cried.  It got so bad that when I went out to put the new plates on Kels was marching around the parking lot holding signs that said, "Just Say No To Famous Potatoes." Bost even got in on the action by tying himself to the back bumper of the car and singing Songs of Freedom, but it was too late- we now have Famous Potatoes.

As if through a magical transformation, though, the second the Famous Potatoes were put on the car, we started driving like Idaho drivers-- at turtle pace.  

I also now have a strange desire to purchase a freakishly large truck, jack it up on a huge lift kit, get an over-sized muffler that ensures I'll be heard in the next county, and put Tap Out stickers on the back windows, then drive around town peeling out after every red light and stop sign leaving a black exhaust cloud large enough kill a rain forest and cause lung cancer.

Or just buy a tractor.

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This has been a post by Jmac from "The Daddy Diaries."  For more funnies on Idaho, being a dad, and other adventures, click the button on the top left of the blog that looks like this: