I’m not kidding, what a shithole. You think they’d post a sign at the state line or something, letting everybody know they’re wasting their time even coming inside. I should be able to sue New Mexico for false advertising since they call it a state and from my experience in other states I didn’t expect it to suck so bad. Granted, there are enough people in New Mexico that this could get real expensive real fast, which is a problem the guys in line behind me will have to deal with.

And I think they’re even doing it on purpose, trying to fake people out that New Mexico’s a fun place to be. In Albuquerque (known to the locals as “Albu-crack”) there’s a cartoon mascot called the Albuquerque Turkey on all the signs, smiling and pointing the way to helpful destinations like the methadone clinic. And I shit you not, most of these metal signs have bite-marks in them next to the bullet holes, like some cartoon-hungry asshole thought the Turkey looked delicious way up there on his perch.

My first day in Albuquerque I got hit by a drunk driver, while I was eating at an Arby’s. He came out of nowhere, and that fucker ate my sandwich. The only thing I can hope is that some of the abundant broken glass in the dining area got mixed in with his Horsey Sauce and he spent the night shitting out ground asshole and cursing Arby’s big-hatted name. Now whenever I go to Arby’s I use the drive-up window and keep one foot on the gas.

It really makes you wonder, though, who the hell is this Arby guy? What a freaky name. And I bet he drove his wife crazy, talking about roast beef all the time. “Jesus, Arby, try some pasta for once. And no, I don’t think it’s legal to make a breakfast cereal out of beef ends.” I’m not sure what happens when you don’t vary your diet at all, but I imagine the guy crapped like one of those Play-Doh Silly Factory things.

That’s a talent you don’t hear much about. Every cool bastard in the movies can blow a smoke ring, but what about the guy who can clench his anus and lay out a star-shaped log? That’s the dude I don’t want to piss off. Not that it’s a dangerous talent really, but I don’t want anybody with that kind of spare time daydreaming of ways to jack me up.

I used to love daydreaming myself, until somebody told me it doesn’t count if you’re asleep at the time. Screw that, I can think of a lot better things to do in my office chair than staying awake. And besides, I don’t know what kind of voodoo shit you have to pull off to be dreaming and awake at the same time, I’ll leave that to the insane and all those lazy shaman pricks out there. Granted, it probably helps pass the time when you’re stuck some place boring, but the last thing I need is to scream out “Elephants!” and piss myself right in the middle of jury duty.

That reminds me, those jury duty guys probably think I’m still on “smoke break,” the gullible bastards. I’m thinking of ducking back in there in a week or two before they catch on, you know, make an appearance for a few minutes and then pause the trial so I can go “take a piss” for the rest of the month. It’s a lot like high school, only the judge is real slow on the uptake with the practical jokes. I swear that guy’s drank Secretariat in glue form via his coffee by now, it’s amazing.