If you’re on any kind of schedule, you should probably avoid Ben Michael’s restaurant on even a half-busy evening. The slow-moving spectacle that often passes for service will be frustrating if there’s some other place you need to be. But if you aren’t in a hurry, that same chaos could pass as entertainment. And if you show up during a quiet lunch hour and you’re the only one there, expect to be treated like royalty.
Minority births are the majority in the U.S.
A semi truck carrying lighter fluid just combusted on I-40.
If you're wondering why there are throngs of people in Albuquerque on Sunday, it's the eclipse.
Will drones spy on us?
Council plans for a stripper database delayed.
Tape dress. Neat.
The world's oldest yoga teacher is 93. And she's a badass.
Republican Super Pac plotting extreme attack ads about President Obama.
Limbless man attempting to swim between five continents.
Coffee drinkers live longer, says my new favorite study.
Fake chicken meat-maker promises new nonflesh will be even better than the real thing.
Gale-force wind in yo face.
Rio Rancho police are cracking down on tailgaters.
Police arrest La Familia cartel boss.
UNM scientists prove that men are funnier than women.
Stephen Colbert finds the one Republican candidate who can beat Obama.
Sarah Palin quits her bus tour halfway through.
Watch out for the TSA Mobile Groping Squads.
The Supreme Court will review the patentability of medical diagnostic tests.
Man arrested after IRS accidently deposits $110,000 into his bank account.
Wimbledon officials wants female tennis players to stop grunting so loudly.
Iran wants to send a monkey into space.
Bronies are real, and they're in Albuquerque.
Coming soon to a restaurant near you: horse-semen shots.
This giant chicken-deboning machine is terrifying, awesome.
Man ships himself across country in a crate equipped to play a MMO as part of an art project.
Oh yeah, they remade Footloose.
New iPhone rumor #32.
Pray for a Destiny's Child reunion.
The seven types of friends everyone needs.
Coq au vin, literally “rooster in wine,” is a recipe that can be simple or complex. My version is geared toward those starting with a big, tough old rooster in the yard, but it works with any chicken. An old hen would also do the trick, but I don't kill my hens. So that leaves the roosters, the meaner the better.
Hospital shooting suspect leaves letter for family, says girlfriend hit herself.
On the other hand, girlfriend says shooter hit her when she wouldn't give him money for drugs.
Colorado fire marshal afraid people will burn down houses with marijuana growing equipment.
Impostor horse takes field at race track.
Circumcision. Apparently it keeps women from getting cancer.
Women's tears are a big turn off.
Hungary wants to defuse tension over strict new media law.
Tyson chicken tycoon dead.
Happy birthday, Kenny Loggins.
Reading glasses hustler sent to prison.
Whirling death clouds (tornadoes) spotted in south east New Mexico.
Woman drove around with mummy in car for months.
Guy wanted for beating up grandmother, stealing her television.
Exploding pen lands teen in jail.
Two chicken producers switch to gassing the birds rather than just slitting their throats. How nice.
The moon has usable water.
Virginia didn't have text book that says black people fought for the Confederacy reviewed by any experts.
Mel Gibson won't be in The Hangover 2.
Virtual border fence sucks. Hardy har.
Ex-General says nuclear launch card went missing for months.
The line between Mexican and New Mexican food has always been thin. Perhaps nowhere in Albuquerque is this border more porous than at Rincon del Pollo, on north Fourth Street near Alameda, where few of the menu items can be ordered without answering the New Mexico state question. But the owners, Rifiel and Ana Rivera, call their food Mexican.
We break for lunch at a fast-food place. My buddy's order is an animated, life-sized, chicken-shaped food thing that runs, comically around on our table. It has been woven together from strips of chicken cold cuts and is stuffed with a mustard potato salad. I go to the window and order one for myself.
I wish there were more opportunities for me, at 34 years old, to be a cheerleader. I know lots of classics, such as this ditty:
How funky is your chicken?
How funky is your chicken?
How loose is your goose?
Our goose is totally loose.
So c’mon all you Eagles fans,
c’mon all you Eagles fans
and shake your caboose.
And shake your caboose.
I also love the one about the hole in the barn wall, though it’s not appropriate for every occasion.
1) At about 7:00 p.m., put a large chicken thigh in the little crockpot you bought from Walgreen’s for $9.99.
2) Add a little teriyaki sauce. You don’t need much; you only need about as much as you’d put on the chicken thigh if you were going to eat it right then.
3) Cook it on low all night while you’re “sleeping.” In the morning, stir it up with a fork and you have delicious shredded teriyaki chicken meat, suitable for eating on crackers or right out of the bowl. It’s a great way to say “fuck off” to the world. Did I just say that? I thought I was only thinking it.