Bucket List Travel: The Salton Sea!

When Hens on Ice took us to Ontario, CA, I quickly learned that Ontario and Orange County are not the same place, and Ontario isn't even in Orange County. After a dizzying putter through the outlet mall and coughing on valley smog for 2 days, I craved an adventure. Thankfully, a bucket list destination was just down the road: The Salton Sea. Not knowing the next time I'd return to SoCal, I seized the moment being antsy and tipsy and booked a car to get out of Dodge. I dragged 2 friends along by telling them we were going to Palm Springs and we hit the road.

The Salton Sea had been on my bucket list of places to visit since I saw the wonderful documentary Plagues and Pleasures on the Salton Sea in college. It seemed like such a funny place that could be great, funny, and/or horrible to visit, and I vowed to find out personally.

What I Did for a T-Shirt

My Tuesday night started normal and simple enough: one of my friends convinced me to go out to the bar when I really just wanted to stay in my hotel room, wearing sweatpants and listening to music that makes me emotional. We thankfully made plans before I got in too deep weeping to lost loves and watching Miranda Sings videos.

Arriving at the bar, I noticed there were sassy t-shirts on the wall with the bar name and a colorful design. I knew I needed another shirt like a hole in my head, but the design with sunset colors on a black t-shirt really looked nice.

After a few cocktails and bar games, I'd forgotten about the shirt but I was hungry. I went to the vending machine to buy some chips, and saw the shirts were sold in the vending machine, just next to the Fritos! They were neatly labeled with the sizes in each vending slot, and only $15, so I checked my wallet and opted for a shirt instead of 15 bags of chips. It would last longer and look better on my mid section.

THE END OF THE BEST BAND EVER.

Bye, Zayn :(

Today's headline was one I never wanted to see: "Zayn Quits One Direction."

Are you kidding me? As if today's surprise snow storm wasn't enough, this bombshell came along to break the Internet. Just kick me while I'm down in the snow, while pouring salt in my wound and blaring Justin Bieber! It's a tragic day in my world, the music world, and just the world. I'm at least coping better than the teenage girls posting their sobbing reactions on social media; I'm sobbing in private as a writer.

Some dramatics aside, I am saddened, and not just because Zayn is my favorite, the most talented, and the best looking. It's the end of an era musically and for my general obsession. I also might have to accept that my favorite artists can't be eternal, and that my amount of Zayn/1D merchandise may be a bit obsessive and qualify me a mental health assessment.

Bon Jour! Where Am I?

What's going on?

Greetings and French phrases from Quebec City! In the tradition of reporting on my embarrassment in foreign lands, Quebec seemed like the perfect spot to dust off my writing wings and peck out a new article. From our first truck stop in the province, I knew it was only a matter of time before I made some sort of fool of myself in this land of francophones.

Having never been to Quebec before, I'd heard it is very French, but how French is that? French like France, or as French as Florida is "Spanish?" I had survived months in France my first year with Hens on Ice with a little more that "bon jour," merci," and "fromage," so I hoped our neighbor to the north would be slightly kinder than the Parisian waiter who chucked my dinner plate at me and wouldn't refill my water. Ah, the city of love.

Refugee Status with Drag Queens

Last night, I was a refugee. A first world refugee, but one nonetheless. This is not to make light of countless refugees who have had to flee their homelands, but the fact remains I was briefly a refugee quarantined at Quebec City's finest gay bar with no place to call home.

The night started with great intentions: host a surprise party at the local gay bar for a show hen who is leaving us this week. The surprise was a success and the night was off to a great start with drinks and cake under our belts all before 8 p.m. At this rate, we could have both a rowdy night out and a full night's sleep.

I'm a Horrible Hen!

Clucking cold!

Apparently the Super Bowl wasn't just last week, so it's been an unacceptable amount of time since this hen has clucked out an article. Since I don't want to take full blame myself, I'll put most of the responsibility on winter. I don't like it; it's too cold, too snowy, too dark, and everyone's pissing me off. But being a resilient bird, I won't let this publication freeze out just because I'm cold and irritable. The articles must go on!

Thankfully I'm not the only bird affected by winter. We're all cooped up, more than any hen should be, and it just takes one wrong glance to send anyone into raging clucks of "You never loved me!" and "Don't you dare look at me like that again!" 'Tis the season now that Christmas is a distant memory.

Hot Air and Deflated Balls in Today's News

Footballs.

Breaking: Brady's Balls "Perfect."

Hen articles typically don't get too sporty. I've come to accept that no one cares about the ever-bumbling Buccaneers, and that's where my professional sports loyalties begin and end. However, in the past few days I have not been able to sip my coffee or turn on the TV without getting blindsided with "news" about the inflation level of balls.

As if it wasn't bad enough that a press conference with the Patriots' coach was breaking news on CNN, today the story is the cover story for all of USA Today, a slightly-respected national newspaper! I'm paying as little attention as possible to this "scandal," but as a conscious bird, apparently I have no choice but to have it all thrown in my face.

I Just Want a Sidewalk!

Searching for sass.

This year's Hens on Ice tour is a mixed bag of prominent North American cities and "What state is that in again?" towns. However, lots of low-expectation towns have yielded pleasant surprises, like Lincoln and Des Moines (sorry, Fresno). Arriving into Allentown, PA, I had high hopes to be on par with Lincoln, Des Moines, or at least Moline.

My first morning in town, I followed my routine of pecking around the area to find local hot spots - coffee shops, restaurants, bars, parks, bookstores with cats, or anything similar. But in lieu of being in a downtown setting, we are a stone's throw from a major highway, the local airport, and "Condoms Galore." In spite of a different setting and planes rattling my window, I was optimistic to find some local sass in Allentown. Ten feet into the journey, I gave up on local sass and just hoped for a sidewalk.

The 2015 is Coming!

Being Britney Spears.

Now that Christmas is over, it's that dreaded time of year where I feel obligated to make up some New Year's resolutions and then justify why I didn't do the ones fully from the year before. In 2012, I survived the apocalypse, and then felt capable of bettering myself in 5 ways. In 2013, I didn't feel like making up new resolutions, but I looked back at the year and focused on the random things I did in lieu of the dumb resolutions. This year, I'm too mentally exhausted and/or clinically unstable to do any of these things, so I turned to the Internet for help in finding resolutions I won't keep, but might make a half-decent article.

Merry Clucking Christmas!

Merry Christmas from The Cackling Hen! This is a holiday I can support (unless you're eating turkey). Thank goodness that murderous blasphemy of a holiday called "Thanksgiving" is over! What should I be thankful for, slaughterhouses? Gluttony at my cousins' expense? Thanksgiving, my tail feather! On to Santa, Jesus, reindeer, and all that makes the season magical!

I'm home for Christmas day for the first time since I joined Hens on Ice. It got me thinking of how some traditions of our Christmas have stayed the same, but how it's changed for me as well over the years from baby chick to old hen.