>The rest of Arizona was a nice drive. Even though there's still a whole lotta nothing, it was like, interesting nothing, since the temperature dropped by about fifteen degrees the farther east we drove. Thank fucking god.
Stopped in Two Guns just before sundown so I could run around and pretend I was a gunfighter for a couple of minutes, peaking around corners with my hands for revolvers as I stared down imaginary Apache, while MoLinder waited in the car with the cats. I guess the derelict gas station with toppled pumps and scattered bonfire remains was a little The Hills Have Eyes in her head. But I didn't just want painted water towers, I wanted to head down into the ruins at El Canyon Diablo, because, I mean come on...when you pass a place called Devil's Canyon you are obligated to investigate.
Basically, if I lived in a horror movie, disaster movie, or monster movie, I would be the first to die, since I'd be the dumbass going, "Oh come on, what could happen?" right before I stuck my head into a cave or climbed up on the roof of whatever and some big and scary went all Cloverfield over my ass.
That is, I would try to climb up on the roof of whatever and most likely fall on my ass, because I lack grace, but not gut. A dancer I could never be, but that doesn't mean I never idolized Cyd Charisse.
MoLinder would have been the heroine, then, as she ran away to save her precious cats.
But then again, I'm stubborn as fuck, so perhaps Cloverfield monster would like, take one of my legs and leave me pinned on the scene, yelling like all fuck for someone to "get this wall off of me, you sons of whores," and then perhaps MoLinder would come back and find me crushed there, and get that soccer mom adrenaline rush like when their kids are glued under minivans, and I'll get blood all over her car as she took me to the nearest hospital where I spent several weeks with phantom limb syndrome and learned to walk with a fake leg.
But we didn't have time to find out test my probability of survival, and just drove by the ruins and took pictures instead of heading down in the canyon.
When MoLinder saw that there were actual ruins and not just a broke ass gas station and graffiti, she got really excited, and agreed that were we cat-less, she would definitely want to explore down there.
MoLinder ain't no pussy, she just has common sense.
Basically, Arizona was pleasant.
Oh, and last night I had a dream that I was getting chased by giant, sharp-toothed, shaggy-haired hippos and ape-horse centaurs with long spindly fingers and we had a Mexican standoff in the fountain at Millenium Park. Wierd that it happened last night, and not after my mock gunfight. Hurmmm.
Heroes is tonight and I'm all geeked out.