Wednesday, February 20, 2008

New Mexico, Old California


Many of you may remember the dreadful flight out to LA I took on US Air last spring that resulted in them trying to buy my business back in the form of a $200 travel voucher. I scoffed at it at the time but then recently that, coupled with some excess airline miles, resulted in Whitney and I jetting off to New Mexico for the long weekend on the US Air. Aside from an almost altercation with a severely attitude-laden flight attendant on the flight home, it was tolerable. Still the worst airline in the sky, wheels down, but it got us there and back without any major snafus so we'll call it a success. A mild success.

But the time we spent in New Mexico was stellar and we had beautiful weather the whole time despite constant reports of rain and snow. We spent Friday night in Santa Fe which was as cool as ever and then the next couple of days in Albuquerque with Whitney's friends Alison and Don who couldn't have been better hosts.

Saturday night we even hit the Route 66 Casino to see the LA band Ozomatli. But for me the highlight of that little jaunt was hitting the casino. I don't gamble at all but talk about some world-class people watching! I love a good desert casino. To me it's like the Star Wars bar scene, only without laser guns. Fantastic.

I'd say it's nice to be back home but I've got yet another housing situation to deal with. I'll no doubt write more about it but, long story short, the woman who rents me my guest house tore up the fucking yard way back in September with promises to spiff the the whole thing up. I thought, "great—what's that take, about 2 weeks?" But then I didn't take into account that she didn't realize those kinds of things cost money. Easy to overlook, you know? Seems to me you wouldn't tear it all up if you didn't have the money to go ahead and finish the job. But then again, I'm a goddamn certified genius, not the woman who lives in the front house.

And so there the yard sits. A fucking dirt lot. Six months later. Still all tore the fuck up and uglier than Fallujah during a garbage strike. I've thrown the whole renter's arsenal at her to no avail: a little begging, a little pleading, a little rent withholding, a little threatening to leave, a little more begging. It's all fallen on deaf ears. And I'm talking like Helen Keller deaf ears 'cause apparently the sight of it doesn't bother her at all either. It's fucking amazing.

So while it sucks, I gotta go.

Soon.

Soon as I find a place.

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