Turkey-shapes-made-from-other-food competition. David Byrne entered two.
Tavern Taxi will drive you home for free this weekend if you've had a few drinks. Good for anywhere in Bernalillo County. 999-1400.
Black Friday shopping rage.
Businesses struggle on Lead, and road construction through the holiday season could mean local shops won't survive.
More UFO sightings in New Mexico than usual.
Since the Republicans don't want him, ex-Gov. Gary Johnson might go Libertarian.
Sandiago's Mexican Grill cooks up a Thanksgiving feast for foster kids and their families.
Egyptians protest the military regime.
Journalist talks about her assault in Egypt by riot police.
The world's first full face transplant.
The rogue ad man behind Buy Nothing Day and the Occupy movement.
Changes to the Catholic mass.
Famous people who died in 2011.
We might lose 50 post offices.
Politician wears blackface to say he’s Germany’s Obama.
Guy backs car into someone’s living room.
State on a $70,000 hunt for teachers who change students’ test scores.
FBI curriculum: Mainstream Muslims are likely terrorist sympathizers.
Auditor says chairman is blocking a review of the PRC.
Journal complains of the number of police escorting a bike safety ride.
The recession has affected yet another business: Cocaine.
Doves are tasty.
Department of Transportation wants to ban e-cigs on planes. Here’s a list of other stinks that should be banned first.
American Apparel and a plus-sized debate.
Obama says America should be as good as 9-year-old Christina Taylor Green imagined it to be. Here's the full text.
What Gov. Martinez has to say about being sued by environmentalists.
The guv is also suggesting the state bleed CNM for cash.
Officials are moving a sex-offender registration location away from a bus stop.
Target wants to build a Target in the air Uptown.
Someone pulled a fire alarm at The Pit, forcing evacuation with one second left in the first half.
These people will name their baby after you if you find their dog.
Romanian birds died of the drink.
NPR photo essay: Then and now, a year after the quake in Haiti.
Landslides kill hundreds in Brazil.
Twin sisters turn 100.
Hard cider is back.
Don't have sex with your mister or mistress in the marital bed.
Tom Hanks' son, Chet, is a rapper who likes to smoke fancy weed in fancy places.
How about a nuclear car?
Praise the gods of affordable apparel, the 20,000 square foot Forever 21 at Coronado Center is open. Out of key makeup items, yesterday I grudgingly stopped by Coronado to shop at Sephora and was pleasantly surprised to find the new Forever 21 open for business. The store shines like a tranny out on the town. The decor, naturally, is that mega-trendy faux Lucite and chandelier-bedecked, quasi French boudoir style, which compliments the voluminous stock of cheap, whimsy-laden merchandise. This store, unlike its Cottonwood Mall counterpart, has a men’s section, a lingerie section, shitloads of accessories and who knows what else. I’d have to spend hours in there to give a full assessment. Sadly, the store was closing when I arrived and it was all I could do just to contain my excitement long enough to locate and purchase some big-ass sunglasses and ruffley pajama shorts.
I work covering a shift at an upscale women's boutique. A girl with facial pierces and two suitcases keeps trying to steal things and I chase her away repeatedly. She makes a game of it which makes me furious. Finally, I hear the bell and run to the front to see that the cash register is missing. (It is the same cash register that I earlier knocked over while riding my bike in the store, when I broke the owner's favorite laminated paper mug.) I rush into the alcove to see the pierced girl leaving a neighboring boutique, carrying the cash register. It's raining outside. The woman from the neighboring boutique throws me her green jade antique-looking cell phone and I dial 911. "Burglary in progress!" I yell into the phone, but I can't remember the address of the name of the boutique. The girl speaks to me calmly the whole time that it was a joke and I'm over reacting. Eventually, I agree and put the phone down, relieved. The boutique owner and other helpers return and I try to tell them what happened but none of them will listen. They're having a brunch and have their own stories to tell. I eventually give up when some other workers pull me into a discussion about Robert Plant. "He's a very powerful singer," I concede, to make a point for one side of the argument, "but that doesn't mean you have to like him." The other party seems vindicated. I notice Sting is eating a bowl of cereal nearby, and I raise my voice a little so that he might hear. "Ultimately, a singer's affectations are more important than his voice." Sting ignores me. "I like your singing, Mr. Sting," I say. "That makes two of us," he replies, and as he looks at me, chewing, his face boils over with thick wax and takes on the form of a cash register. My friend says, "don't worry about Sting, here's a ring," (it rhymes.) It's a friendly joke. The ring is so small it can barely fit on the tip of her pinky finger.
Since age 16 I’ve had many different jobs:
• First I worked at a small coffee shop.
• Then I worked at a pharmacy mailing pills to rural areas, and delivering them to mental institutions and old folks homes.
• During my freshman year of college I worked at the Fine Arts Library—at once the best and most difficult job I’ve had. The pros were that I got to look at rare books and check out records from their collection of more than 16,000 LPs. The con was that I had to shelve carts and carts of books and it was hard to stay focused and not look at them, especially when hidden in the stacks.
• Next I worked at a series of restaurants: a fry fest known as BG’s Old Tyme Deli in Cape Girardeau, Missouri; Cafe Broadway here in town; and, (shudder) The Olive Garden. Every night after working at the Olive Garden I would eat a kid’s portion of some crappy pasta, drink cheap red wine, listen to KUNM and hate myself.
• After being fired from the Olive Garden for insisting on going home for the holidays, I got a receptionist job at the Architecture school.
• Then I was employed as a receptionist at the Weekly Alibi. I was fired for reasons still beyond me.
• Accidentally, I got a job as a student reporter at KUNM where I spent almost three years, also working as a music assistant.
• Finally I fell back into the loving newspaper arms of the Alibi.
Sadly, I’ve never known retail.
Once I tried to get a job at Birdland but they wouldn’t hire me because I had no retail experience, and probably figured I was too dumb to learn how to sell pipes and black light posters. Another time I tried to get a job at Bow Wow Records. They had me fill out a questionnaire where you listed favorite and least favorite bands. I wrote that Skrewdriver was my least favorite band. They never called me back. Because I wasn’t cool enough, I assume.
I wonder what my next job will be. Snooty academic sounds cool, but I also sort of just want to make soup and draw toons. These days, though, I’m thankful I have a job. The U.S. unemployment and underemployment rate is currently at a lame 17 percent.