photo (29)

So, I was literally gone for a month or three visiting family in Arizona and generally just trolling around the southwest of that cuckoo bananas country. I took my usual slew of photos (piles of vomit, ugly animals, portly couples) and yeah, some of these are instagrammed and some aren’t because this is my vacation review and I wanted everything to be inconsistent.

It was an 8:00am flight which meant because I live in Canadaland I had to be there three hours earlier.

There was a lot of this (which I enlarged for your viewing pleasure):

 

The woman seated diagonally from me was very obviously deranged because she had a grey fedora with a giant, hideous flower on it:

 

Anyway, we land after 67 hours of flight and drive a couple hours north of Phoenix to my aunt and uncle’s house in Prescott and passed my two favourite road signs:

Honourable mentions:

  • Dick paradise
  • Toilet water blvd
  • Toilet water street
  • Toilet water road
  • Owl rehabilitation centre

 

On the left is a friend I made and on the right is a cowboy named Big Johnson that stands outside of the Mormon bookstore. It took roughly ten minutes for me to get a picture because I didn’t want to look like a giant asshole in front of the Mormons. Anyway, after I finally got the picture I really wanted to see inside the Mormon bookstore and they were closed.

Likely because they aren’t looking to convert literally at all. They’ve got all the Mormons they need.

 

These two bugs made me their queen. The one on the right is called a “cicada” which loosely translates as “desert sex bug” and its mating call is disgusting.

 

There was a half shaved dog at a farmer’s market (for sale):

Eventually after a couple days of bug hunting we drove down to Mexico to have some light dental work done. On the way there we hit up our most favourite (and only) Gila Bend, AZ restaurant Space Age.

Here’s an excerpt from a Space Age Yelp review:

“Craig discovers a moldy strawberry in the space age salad bar; the future is full of fuzzy fruit. In a hushed tone, I hear a patron tell her waiter that the chicken was “obviously very old.” I think nothing of it, and finish my biscuits and gravy. They were brought out specially, despite breakfast’s ceasing to be served.

We continue on toward Yuma when the sensation hits hard: I need a bathroom. Fittingly, we stop for gas, and I bless the receptacle w/ affectionate blasts. TMI?

Finally having arrived @ our finally destination, Craigers and I speed off on the ATV. He’s worried about reports of a vicious wind, but so far, there’s not a sign.

Time passes, we jostle about; the scenery is lovely. We work on my fear of heights.

By the time we finally set up camp, I’ve got a poop tree. A special place. I visit it often, sometimes bitterly, but always w/ relief.

We spend the evening occasionally together”.

Anyway, it’s a lovely place shaped like a UFO that doesn’t put the mayo on your sandwich for you. Also, I had some soup:

  

Anyway, eventually we got to Mexico and discovered that there weren’t enough glasses to go around so Ricky was stuck with using a measuring cup which he used to drink his adult beverages and coffee.

 

The resort in Mexico was crawling with children and in our condo there was a fork on my nightstand and a dead plant on the patio. Not only was the plant dead but it was also a fake plant.

There was a fake dead plant on our patio. Not only was the plant fake and dead but there was a pool of water under it meaning the people who stayed there before us had attempted to revive the fake dead plant. Eventually we headed into town, saw some my most favourite statue “man on shrimp”, met the locals and chipper, heavily armed cops:

 

 

And lastly, I spent a couple days in L.A and met the love of my life:

 

Featured Writers

Joel Ingersoll

Joel Ingersoll

Joel Ingersoll is a Clevelander living in exile in Saint Paul, Minnesota with...

Elle M

Elle M

Elle is a theoretical land bridge connecting Siberia and Alaska that sank into...

Roger Taylor

Roger Taylor

Mr. Taylor is a freelance aphorist available for both corporate retreats and...

Ray Ramos

Ray Ramos

Ray Ramos is a writer living in Los Angeles who learned at a tender age that if...

Mike Primavera

Mike Primavera

Mike Primavera lives comfortably off his family's pasta fortune. In his free...

Listen to The Impersonals Podcast, feat. interviews w great tweeters