Sorry this is short and has no pics...

Hello everyone. So nothing entirely earth-shattering has occured during my first week in Dallas, but I have learned a few things that you might find insightful, and perhaps even amusing. Here's a list:

-Deep Ellum does exist, for I have been lost in its depths with a U-Haul still attached to my Jeep.

-The main DART station also exists downtown. I randomly came across it while driving around in The Big D.

-I am now required to hate every other city in Texas, which isn't very hard to do when all the other cities I've been to in Texas pretty much suck. Austin is for HIPPIES! ;o)

-You can be in a really posh neighborhood and then the slums in a matter of one block (or by crossing to the east side of Highway 75 down here).

-There really is a Starbucks on every corner. Seriously.

-Gay men love to go walking together on the Katy Trail about one block west of my apartment, but so do a lot of other people, including Mexicans who look like barrels without shirts on and their obese ladyfriends sans bras.

-I never knew how much I used a microwave until I didn’t have one… speaking of which, I should go buy one today, but I looked for a Wal-Mart near here and the closest Supercenter is on the other side of downtown by railroad tracks and that scares me a little.

-Living with my family in close quarters for more than two days is entirely unacceptable.

-You are a total loser who should be quaratined in some sort of a concentration camp if you don't have a TollTag. I fall into this category.

-Miami Vice is probably one of the worst movies I've ever seen, but it has some cool pink mist shots and really awesome cars, boats, and airplanes.

Hello, Goodbye.

As Friday nears, I am bidding my farewells to Ruidoso... fortunately I pretty much hate everything about it save for a few people, the mild summers, my former days of snowboarding for free, and The Links at Sierra Blanca (no, I don't golf there, I yog around the course).

My bon voyage sort of started when Jeff and I got our apartment in Dallas because I immediately packed everything I could (that wasn't already packed) and started counting down the days until July 22. It pretty much ended Sunday morning when I was having a yomit session after partying with Evelyn and Jason, and a few select Ruidosoans. I'll blog about that later on Eve and Wheels, I think.

Anyways, tomorrow I'll be in the LC having my hair dyed by the famous Alex, who has moved to another salon (if anyone's interested) that doesn't have a grody English sheepdog sauntering around in it (can dogs saunter?). At least I hope it doesn't have a big, shaggy dog roaming around... I hated that dog.

I'll also be dining at Si Senor, and taking pictures of my burritos and probably sending said pictures to Colonel McAdoo. Mwa ha ha ha ha. Maybe Amanda, too... she loved the Si Senor like a native New Mexican.

My mom is also going to the Big LC with me and is apparently going to get a new phone at Sprint, so I may or may not be changing my phone number... I don't know if I can part with my beloved Las Cruces/505 number quite yet. I'll keep you all updated, of course. Not that any of you call me unless you have to ask questions about anatomy, sloths, or what to do if a centipede crawls out of your drain. I like to think that if any of you were ever on Who Wants to be a Millionaire (or whatever it's called), I'd be your lifeline because I pretty much know everything that you don't need to know, which is not valued by society in any way, shape, or form, but helps me beat people at trivia. :o)

So, bub-bye 505 and chel-lo again to Tejas. I shall return in October for Homecoming and more burritos, and possibly another hair-dyeing, depending on whether or not I can find someone in Dallas who does colors other than bleached blonde. ;o) Scary.

It's also scary that I can probably sing the entire song Hello, Goodbye by The Beatles... also the title of this fair blog entry. Jeff, you are SO going to miss me singing the soundtrack from Fiddler on the Roof (but so are Eddie and Donica) for like two weeks until you get to Dallas, but fret not, for then you can hear me sing all the time. LOL! Sucker.

All I want is some Subway.

Here is your list of fast food places to eat at in Ruidoso: McDonald's, Sonic, Taco Bell, Schlotzsky's, Mr. Burger (not that fast), Burger Trolley (not that fast, either)... um, yeah. That's about it. Oh, and Subway, which is consistently inconsistent in every aspect of their business practice.

There used to be two Subways here, as well as a Burger King and an Arby's. I can't get flame-broiled goodness here, or the joy of an overly-processed roast beef sandwich doused in fake cheese sauce. I should have moved the second Arby's closed, but I hardly ever go there and didn't know they'd shut their doors forever until a few months after the fact. I can, however, "eat fresh" at Subway and make sure Jared and Jon Lovitz get a paycheck this month. Or so I thought.

Last week I wanted Subway when my mom and I went to Wal-Mart (which I failed to mention also has a Subway in it, but I'm scared to eat at it). So, we drove past the normal Subway and the parking lot was packed. Forget it... we'll just check out the next Subway down the road at Funtrackers, where I went go-carting not too long ago. Nope. It's closed, and Subway executives failed to send me the memo.

Now when I do actually drive the 17 miles to Subway, I can expect to find ridiculously rude employees who are obviously working paycheck to paycheck and crack hit to crack hit, and make it apparent that they hate me for even considering visiting their fine sandwich shop. I can usually assume they have only about three of the normal 15 chip varieties other Subways in real towns have. The same goes for the soda machine. In addition, your friendly Ruidoso Subway will be out of at least half of the breads other Subways have. Normally they have three day old Honey Wheat at all times, so they got that goin' for 'em.

But here's the zinger: Today I made the arduous drive almost all the way to the Downs, pulled into the Subway parking lot, only to find one of the employees standing in the doorway telling something to this other lady who was parked as well. Rather than waste my precious energy and get out of the car, I merely roll down my passenger side window to hear what news this disgruntled sandwich artist had for me... "We're out of bread."

WHAT? As Eddie would say, "Are you SERIOUS?" Why the f*ck are you even open, you dim-witted meth addict? Did you think I came to Subway for the SOUP or the shredded iceberg lettuce salads?? Don't insult me. Just close.

Here is my other question: How does a sandwich shop run out of bread, especially when they make the bread at said shop? You would think that when they notice the bread supply is running low, they'd throw a couple more frozen slabs of dough into the ol' oven, right? Or, hey... we're low on dough - do you think we should order some more? No, don't be foolish... let's go take another hit off the crack pipe.

I hate this town, you guys. Trying to explain the hate would be futile. I can feel my blood pressure rise when I think about going anywhere here. If I make it through the next ten days, it will truly be an amazing feat.

The only thing that would make me happy right now is if Jared himself would come to Ruidoso, fire the crackheads, and then make me a sandwich. For free.

Die, white zinfandel, DIE!!!!!

"A good starting point when discussing bad wine is White Zinfandel, or as it is known in certain circles of connoisseurs, 'the Pink Scourge'." -John Weidman

There is no way I can explain my hatred for white zinfandel. It's a "wine", it's a putrid shade of pink, and it tastes like watered down Arbor Mist, sans the light carbonatory (new word) properties, with a touch of rubbing alcohol added. It's repulsive and no one should ever drink it.

I am by no means a wine snob. Set out two unlabeled bottles of red wine in front of me and I probably couldn't tell you which was a cabernet and which was a merlot. What irritates me largely are people who are just like me (don't know shit about the vino), but act like they are editor in chief of Wine Spectator, when really this person has had exorbitant amounts of various wines from boxes or Gallo jugs, and watched Sideways (that movie can die right along with white zin).

Why this angry diatribe about wine, Sarah, you may ask? Well, my friends, let me tell you a quasi-tale of Le Bistro and a shower of Texans that has invaded this quaint mountain town for the Fourth of July holiday...

We have two wines by the glass at Le Bistro. The restaurant is way too small to compensate for anything more than that. The selection varies from merlot and chardonnay, to red bordeaux and sauvignon blanc, to valpolicella and pinot grigio. You never know what great surprise Jeff and I have in store for you when you ask what wines we have by the glass. It's really quite exciting (insert sarcasm for that last comment)...

And let's not forget that we don't have a wine list at Le Bistro. Richard keeps it real and is usually bringing new and interesting wines every few weeks, so a list is just a waste of time. I made one two summers ago and it just ended up being a list to pacify customers, while we never had half of what was on it. What we do have is an attractive display inside with the many wines we have available by the bottle. To me, this is not a big deal. I would never walk into a family-owned restaurant and expect it to run like Olive Garden. To me, when you walk into a place like Le Bistro, you want to try something different.

Back to the Texans. The men and the women of the Texas love the Coors Light and the white zinfandel, respectively. Personally, I truly believe they do not know that any other beers or wines exist (besides pinot noir because of fucking Sideways), and while I am always true to my Miller Lite, I'm also up to try new alcoholic beverages (as long as they don't contain tequila or any of the Malibu varieties). The Texes are not. We usually have Coors Light in stock, but never, ever, ever white zin. During the summer Richard will buy a case or two of Rosé, which is his personal stash (except for when Jeff and I drink two bottles of it like we did Friday night). So, we don't have a pink wine for the hicks, and oftentimes they become quite irate. Such as was the case this evening.

Long story longer, I had a four top of two middle-aged couples who seemed pissed off from the beginning. I gave them my usual spiel, which is pretty much the following script: "We don't keep a wine list because the owner likes to change the wines often, but they are on display if you would like to look them over, or I can suggest something for you." Pretty polite and articulate, if you ask me. Well, Fatty-Bo-Batty's Fatty Wife at table P6 tonight wanted a blush, even though I had already explained in English that we have one red and one white wine by the glass. To this she tersely retorted, "I guess I'll just have a Diet Coke." I'm thinking, "Yeah, lady... order the Diet Coke because that's going to solve your weight problem." But Fatty-Bo is mad that his portly Yellow Rose can't have her pink drink, and this is my fault because I'm obviously the owner, chef, and person who orders what we keep in stock. Obviously.

As I am leaving to retrieve their beverages, Richard walked up, doing his owner-thing and just asking people how it's going, blah, blah, blah. Fatty-Bo-Batty starts immediately bitching about the lack of a wine list. Two years ago, this would have warranted a "Take your fuck out of here!" from Richard, but it was a slow winter, and we all need the money. So Fatty's friend follows Richard inside to peruse the selection, and is still being rude...

At this point, I'm crying because I can't deal with the rudeness for another hour. Eddie is threatening to kick them out, and I'm sheepishly asking Jeff if he'll take them. Jeff is not pleased. Not to mention that by the time their food came out, it was discovered I failed to write down how Fatty's buddy wanted his ribeye cooked (which happened to be medium well, so of course it was very apparent these people were classless to start with)... it was a big disaster and this is my public thank you to Geoffrey for stopping my crying by taking that group of nasties (I know you read my blog, Geoff, so you better start commenting).

This is also my public plea to anyone and everyone to stop drinking white zinfandel. I know I don't have to worry about Amanda (because she's well on her way to editor in chief of Wine Spectator) or the Colonel (because I doubt he'd drink wine, let alone pink wine), but I am really worried about everyone else in this world. Take the intiative. Paul Giamatti's most famous line from Sideways was, "I will not drink any fucking Merlot!" If they would have just replaced "Merlot" with "White Zin" it would have been my favorite movie of all time. I will not drink any fucking white zin...