Amoeblog

(In which Job enjoys theatrics at a new West End.)

PART TWO of 5
We were maybe fifteen minutes outside of LA when Carrie first chirped, “Are we almost there yet?”

Logan shot a look that said, “I love you and you’re very dear to me but so help me God I will cut you open.”

The drive to 29 Palms was mostly uneventful. Bathroom breaks inevitably took us to greasy spoon diners, where guilt over utilizing the facilities without purchasing food caused us to orchestrate elaborate, timed infiltration.

“Okay, you and Carrie go in first. We’ll hold back a few minutes then enter.”

At some point it was decided that Logan should be nicknamed “Blimpie”. [In the original writing of the trip's blog, Blimpie was the name used, until Logan found out and used a tone of voice that caused me to subsequently re-edit everything. -Ed]

We had been at the 29 Palms Inn almost five minutes before we agreed it was love at first site. Ours is the most isolated cabin, located at what they call the West End, which I guess makes Carrie and Logan “West End Girls” for the weekend.


 We've got no future, we've got no past; Here today, built to last.

Amidst a constant stream of jokes about the many, grisly ways in which we would all meet our doom in the desert (snakes, sunstroke, redneck slashers) we staked out our bungalow and heartily approved.

Next, we trekked the walk across the desert sands and brush to the pool and restaurant. After a quick dip, we settled into a dinner table.


Feed us.



We were soon being served by a complete and total psychopath.

Posted by Job O Brother on June 2, 2007 at 06:11pm | Post a Comment

(In which Job orders some desert.)

PART ONE of 5

I've made a horrible mistake.

...Okay, maybe I'm being too dramatic in describing it that way. It wasn't a horrible mistake, just a mistake. I apologize for being so over-the-top in my choice of words; it's horrible of me.

I promised y'all a conclusion to my boyfriend-in-the-hospital saga and had even completed writing most of it, but left it on my computer at home, which I no longer have access to. Therefore, you will still see Part 3, just not this weekend.

But why not this weekend? Because I'll being regaling you with a new series of reports from the desert!


A picture of the desert and one of those flat, black things that cars like to drive on.

Yes, I carload of attitude is making its way today to the glamorous town of 29 Palms, California, where we'll be staying at some isolated cabin, drinking tequila and mojitos, taking new photos for our MySpace profiles, hiding fake snakes and terrifying each other, and basically being ridiculous.

In the desert, no one can hear you make an ass of yourself.

Accompanying me is my post-op* boyfriend, Corey, my dearly beloved friend, Carrie, and another sweetheart-o'-my-heart, Logan, who has the distinction of being one of the floor managers at Amoeba Music Hollywood. We'll see what dirt I can get on her before we return to work. Career advancement through blackmail, anyone?


The author, his boyfriend and Carrie with Logan, circa 1986

This is all promoted under the assumption that I'll find Internet access out there, of course. If not, I'll write but post later in the week.

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Posted by Job O Brother on June 2, 2007 at 11:41am | Comments (1)