Okay. Calm down, folks. I'm not dead/being held without charge in Guantanamo/too lazy to post anything. Well, kind of the last one, but I do have a good excuse...
My recent prolonged and painful absence from civilization (i.e., email, Yahoo Chat, posting on this website, and reading Go Fug Yourself) is a result of my trans-state move from California to New Mexico.
We've been here since the beginning of August, but only got the internets, like, two days ago or something. Living mostly internet-free for two weeks has enabled me to answer that age-old question that has haunted humankind since the dawn of time: what the hell did people do before the internet? Well, mostly you don't know what temperature it is in, say, Dubai, and also it's much harder to settle
debates about whether or not that's actually Luke Wilson helping Michael Douglas get up after his fall through the glass roof at the end of The Game (it's not, btw). More importantly, however, it makes it much harder to keep in touch with friends and to generally know what's going on in the world.
I grew up in Albuquerque, so coming back here has been minimally stressful for me. Ian seems to be handling it well too, actually. I'm looking forward to doing all the New Mexico Things with him, like going to the state fair, Dixon's apple farm, and trolling for dumpy hookers on Central. Because if New Mexico has one thing in spades, it's dumpy hookers on Central.
Speaking of which, the other evening while at a late night diner, we actually witnessed the following events unfold across the street: Pimp walks lady of the night (LOTN) over to idling car; pimp slinks away while LOTN casually leans into window for several minutes; deal was struck, apparently, because LOTN gets into passenger side door; LOTN-filled car precedes to sit there with its headlights on for a long time, prompting us to wonder if the action is going down immediately; car finally drives away; hooker-boning begins, I can only assume. Ah, Burque. It makes me yearn for those simpler, more innocent prostitute neighbor times of long ago...
Before the above mentioned incident, however, the first time I was really reminded of the differences between New Mexico and California occurred in the 24-hour Super Walmart by my new house. Now, I'm not normally one to patronize such glaring icons of corporate and consumer irresponsibility--and 
especially not at 11:30 on a Friday night--but I was on my way to my sister's band's CD release party, in desperate need of earplugs, and had already tried the only other open business in the area, a 7-11, and turned up empty handed. So, excuses aside, Ian and I were standing there in the ridiculously long checkout line when I began to notice the distinctly New Mexican caliber of people surrounding us on our late night Walmart sojourn: bedraggled, meth-mouthed, and either horrendously over- or underweight. Olde English neck tattoos abounded. Completely hairless brow bones embellished with creatively colored and extremely high-arched penciled in eyebrows flourished. Five inch high curled bangs stood crisply at attention. It was truly spectacular.
Oh yeah, now I remember--gangs, drugs, and poverty. And chola makeup. And really good food.
Welcome to Albuquerque.
the Minnesota State Fair will eat your state fair alive. And then spit out the dumpy hookers.
Posted by: Kristina | August 20, 2007 at 07:30 AM
This is a good one. I like when you talk about me.
Posted by: The Sister | August 20, 2007 at 02:42 PM
I thought it was Owen Wilson. Still do, dammit!
Posted by: Mr. Sarah | August 20, 2007 at 03:24 PM
Oh my fuck! It definitely wasn't Owen Wilson, but it WAS Spike Jonze! Very weird. I feel somewhat vindicated, although not for any logical reason. Similar noses, though. Check IMDB, ya bastids.
Posted by: Mr. Sarah | August 20, 2007 at 03:28 PM