Sometimes (lots of times) I ask myself, “Why do I live in St. Louis?” I guess the answer is that Will makes more money than I do and has a really good job there. So here I am.
Usually I ask myself that question after returning from a vacation to somewhere really cool. Last Wednesday I got back from a trip to Charleston, SC. I left the beach, the palmettos, the cobblestone streets, the beautiful houses and the history and came back to…the Mississppi River. And the Arch. Eh.
I went with my mom, my sister, and MK and Vicki, two longtime family friends. We were visiting MK’s daughter Becca, also a lifelong friend.
Sidebar: I can’t begin to explain the grief Becca caused the 13-year-old me when I was trying to direct my very first music video (to Mariah Carey’s “Dreamlover”) and she wanted to quit because she was hungry. I don’t think it had anything to do with the idiotic dance moves I was forcing her to perform. She told me last week that she is actually hyperglycemic. A sorry excuse that has very likely cost me a career as an Oscar-winning director. But we’ve moved on from that.
Here are some highlights from the trip:
We went to brunch the first day we got there. Here Bec and I are with our unlimited mimosas. And my love affair with Charleston begins…
Next up was a carriage ride. Pretty cool way to see the city.
Probably not so cool for the locals who got stuck behind us. But they get to live in houses like this by the ocean, so suck it, locals.
Here we are at Magnolia Plantation where we saw flowers, alligators, and lots of Spanish Moss. Good times all around.
We toured several cool old houses like these:
And we got really tired of posing for my mom’s pictures. Here I am protesting. She got the shot anyway.
My sister, mom and MK all went on a late night tour of a haunted, creepy jail. I was too scared to go. My wussy-ness is epic and possibly a topic for another blog post. I hate being scared. But here’s a pic of the jail anyway. Apparently the camera lens is a little dusty. Or are those orbs…?? Crap I’m scared now. Deep breaths.
The last night we were there, we went on a tour of the”dark side” of Charleston. Prostitution, slavery, and murder galore!
Fun fact: the prostitutes in Charleston used to put a lemon wedge in their “cooch” to keep from getting pregnant. Sorry if that language offends you, but that is exactly what the tour guide said – I’m trying to give you an authentic experience here. At least I think that’s what he said. He had the thickest Southern accent I’ve ever heard and overused the dramatic pause when telling his stories. MK thought he was having a stroke one time. No worries – he’s ok.
The lemon birth control method proved to be somewhat ineffective (surprise!), as our guide informed us that the parking lot we were standing in used to be full of dead babies. That were aborted using knitting needles. Does anyone have a bag I can hyperventilate and /or puke in?
Here I am with my sister at the end of the tour in a dark, scary, old graveyard that I couldn’t leave fast enough, but of course my mom wanted a picture. I think this was after I soiled myself. Umm…are those orbs again??