Where's George?

A few weeks ago, I went to pay for some items at my local pharmacy. As I’m counting out my singles, I notice that one of my bills has red ink stamped all over it. Upon closer inspection, I recognize the stamp for the website for WHERESGEORGE.com…evidently a “United States Currency Tracking Project”, if you believe every single word that’s stamped in red on your currency….which of course, I DO.

There were also little circles coming out of George Washington’s head, leading to the words “Where am I?”

Poor George….I feel his pain. I can only assume that those graduating bubbles are supposed to indicate what he’s thinking…but I could swear it looks like he’s talking out of the side of his mouth. I do believe he’s muttering “This had better be worth it…I’ve been posing for this portrait for three freakin’ weeks. ‘Timeless’, my arse! How’s my hair?”

After taking the above photograph, I walked into Connor’s (12) room to get a second opinion on the state of George’s mouth.

(Newscaster's voice: "OPEN, OR GRIMLY CLOSED? NEW SPECULATION ON THE STATE OF WASHINGTON'S LIPS...TREASURY DEPT CALLS FOR RANDOM INSPECTION OF ALL CIRCULATING CURRENCY! WOMAN IN NEW YORK STATE MAY HOLD RARE, SMIRKING BILL...FILM AT 11.")

Whipping the bill in front of Connor’s upturned face, I tried unsuccessfully to break his eye contact with the teevee screen on the wall. His response was an annoyed “Mommmmm”…and his eyes remained fixed on the Sony. (I’d like to see the Sony in labor for 47 hours and push a DV-R out of its port…then maybe it’ll earn some respect from me.) When I finally got him to look, he said that George’s mouth looked “set in a straight line” to him….and would I “please close the door on your way out,” which is code for “don’t let the door hit you”, don’tchaknow.

I stopped getting my feelings hurt a long time ago.

Next stop was Taylor’s (16) room, where I found Tay and his best bud Chris. Taylor was on his cell and simultaneously typing on his computer….Chris was playing a video game with his iPod on. Needless to say, no-one bothered to answer when I hammered politely knocked on the door.

Once I had their attention, it was once again confirmed that I was losing my mind mistaken and a bru-ha-ha ensued, with Chris stuffing the bill down his shirt and Taylor subsequently tackling him to the ground, causing the video game remote to hit the floor with a *thunk* and further causing his high-powered pseudo-weapon to discharge…evidently causing mass destruction and grave loss of life.

With a half-hearted “thanks guys”…I let myself out.

Upon returning to trusty-laptop, I entered the required currency tracking website and punched in the series of numbers identifying my particular bill…and waited with breath that was bated for the detailed travel log to upload, revealing in all its glory the magical places my George had toured and the faraway malls he'd undoubtedly seen.

With a sound effect equaling KA-CHING!! the results appeared. Turns out, my George originated in Davenport, Florida on January 16, 2008. Then he made his way to me.

So much for intrigue.