Wild Turkeys: I hate them.


I did not know that wild turkeys were on par with geese in the Asshole Animal Factor. You live; you learn. That’s what my blog is all about.

I spotted this freaky beast at Marfa Elementary School. It was engaged in some self-love with its reflection in the glass, which should have been my first warning that going anywhere near the bird was a sure-fire mistake. But, he seemed innocent enough. So, I got out of the car and got within 10 feet of the turkey. Mr. Turkey was totally cool with me snapping his picture, as he found himself to be quite the handsome dude.

He gobbled at me. I gobbled back, thoroughly convinced I was speaking good Turkey. I was right: that angry bird was INCENSED by my gobbling and began to fluff up aggressively and approach me. Oh, my. I started to walk away, sans gobbles. I don’t like to mess with wildlife like that.

End of story, I ran back to the car screaming as a furious Mr. Turkey chased me. All the while my husband and 4 year old were laughing at me for my display of cowardice.


Mr. Turkey was so pissed at me that he pecked at our car’s tires and chased us down the block.

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We ate dinner at the Hotel Paisano that evening. I asked the waitress a personal question: Are the wild turkeys here vicious? As it would turn out, her mother and young daughter were ATTACKED by one of these asshole birds recently. Her poor mother fell to the ground, as did her little girl. The disgusting turkey then pecked at them. All for nothing! They were just walking to school or something, and the bird came out of nowhere to be a complete jerk.

To top all this off, turkeys are butt-ugly. I am especially grossed out by the chest beard. Yuck.

Socorro Cemetery: Sculpture

Oh, just give me credit if you re-post. I don’t do photography for profit but for statement and art. Just give me the credit or re-blog me if your retouch and take out the chain link fence. I’m not trying to be famous, but I want the families to know who to come back to to complain or praise. Digital code is like forever. I’m the one to blame for stopping and contemplating the beauty of the rememberance.

But, you left a perfectly pawnable recliner?

Hope the link works. I’m just a girl, and I’ve had it up to here. Plus, I’m relatively sure I can take most of my enemigos in throw down. I fight wicked dirty.

I turn 36 next month. And i have been stopping at every dangerous town and locale you can imagine for tourism, curiosity, and photos since I was 11. I rarely am bothered by criminals. I’ve been doing a lot of modeling lately, and I am shocked at how deranged I look in pics where I’m just trying to play around with knives. Maybe i’ve always looked deranged. Hmm.

Wait.I was going to talk about this awesome recliner I should have stolen and pawned in Socorro.

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I have no idea why I like this pic so much (but I do!!)

Maybe it’s because it seems to sum up what I like about downtown El Paso: cheap slut-tastic clothes hanging in the breeze, in-coming traffic from Mexico, and the historic Camino Real hotel.

Nothing makes me feel more at home than shopping at the hooker store then hanging out in my haunted hotel room and watching a trashy telenovela.

Sh*t that did not scare Ann on El Paso Street

Not everything on El Paso Street scares me. After all, it has some great shopping…and some rather questionable shopping, but that makes it all the more entertaining. I love asking myself, “Where would you wear something like that? Better yet, who the hell would wear that?”

I was in a shoe store and asked those very questions. The answer? “Las que bailan en los tables.” Oh. I probably shouldn’t be shopping for work clothes there, should I? But, I really like my new $4.99 low-cut black shirt! I wore it today, in fact.

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I miss being able to shop at the Ueta, dammit. I would need a passport now to buy my junk and walk across to Mexico and then back to the US to avoid sales tax.

And, even I must admit that pawn shop is pretty normal as long as you don’t look at the skulls, mummies, ventriloquist dummies, full skeletons….Right! Focus on the bright colors and shiny things.

Giant horse junk. (The Equestrian statue in El Paso)

Right when you leave the El Paso airport, you come across this absolutely enormous statue of Juan de Oñate y Salazar (y un sorteo de galletas…sheesh! what a name!!) on a bucking stallion. You don’t even have to have an interest in sculptures of large animal penises to notice it. It smacks you right in the face as you drive by.

Every time I tell myself, “Don’t look. Just don’t look. It’s too damned early in the morning, and you are slightly hungover. You will toss your cookies for sure.” And then I look.

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UGH! Why did I post this?! Now I am forced to see a slideshow of those giant testicles over and over. Why is the horse’s weenie tied up? (I KNOW, mmkay? Just let’s not go there.) I thought I would purge the nightmare by posting (that usually helps me). I was wrong this time.

My love affair with a dead guy. (John Wesley Hardin)

Generally, I don’t care for ne’er do well types. But, he was a member of the State Bar of Texas, which explains my interest. Hmm. An outlaw lawyer. Kinda has a nice ring of redemption!

All across the telegraph
His name did it resound
But no charge held against him
Could they prove*
And there was no man around
Who could track or chain him down#
He was never known
To make a foolish move+

(Bob Dylan, ‘John Wesley Harding’)

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* Truth be told, he knew he killed a bunch of people. Who even knows if all of them had it coming. Oh, there was plenty of proof. Plenty. But, he kept escaping from jail!
#Until he was sentenced to time in Hunstville. Yeah, he didn’t escape from there. Tried but failed. He was punished harshly for his attempts.
+These kinds of guys repeatedly make foolish moves. That’s why they end up shot in the back of the head one day. For as much as Hardin is an interesting historical ‘character’ (let us not forget this was once a real, live person who had human needs and desires), he wasn’t exactly level-headed.

Still, he’s up there with Judge Roy Bean on the ‘cool lawyer/judge’ spectrum.

[sidenote: There’s a cage around his grave because his family kept trying to dig him up to move him. I find that insane, given the fact that his resting place is part of the history of El Paso.]

uuuuuh. Is there some good reason why I thought I needed to pose with ‘gun fingers’ in front of his grave? That was dorky!

Ever travel through west Texas with a utility lawyer?

No? Then count yourself lucky. Hours and hours of discussion about some giant battery thig-o-majig, CREZ wind power lines, the current carried by those lines over there versus the ones we saw two hours ago. AAAH!

Then, it’s all hog’s heaven when we see these old lines on the road between Marfa and Valentine. He thinks they were telegraph poles that were converted to electrical poles, because there’s no mistaking the [whatever the frick those bloppers on the poles are called. I need to learn how to listen.].

“It is clear those poles were used as power lines. Amazing. They are barely ten feet tall. Wow. They are very old. Probably dating back to the 1920s.”

Hours, people. Hours and hours of this charming banter.

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I don’t like how ‘fuffy’ [no, not fluffy] the clouds are in that one pic. I will probably crop the other one to reduce the fuffy interference.