Goin Out West Volume 3

William F. Willard here. The editor has really gone off the deep end now. The morning started off way too early. Dehydration kept this rag tag journalistic team up all night (did I mention our fearless editor, Erik K. Gamlem forgot his cord for the camera and as such we are without photos on this excursion, not that chief photographer Erik K Gamlem has taken any pristine shots, save for a few out of the window of our hotel last night. We are in what they call the land of enchantment, and this guy can’t even be bothered to take a few pictures? We are truly doomed).

So we awoke early due to lack of sleep. William F. Willard, prized journalist for sure, does not awake early for any man or child, the right woman however, that’s another story. We mulled about the hotel, catching the new Frodus Sound Laboratories output on the computer stream,  until a breakfast of substance was required to sustain us for our journey. We had Huevos Rancheros and two cups of coffee. So there I thought the fuel would get us through. Little did I know most of my thirst would be quenched not by the great coffee bean, nor the barley and hops that any  first rate wordsmith requires all day, but instead water was all that was on the menu.

Gamlem thinks he did find an apartment however. It’s a quaint place in a yellow and blue building that looks more like a fraternity house for an all gay, all out football team. It’s very colorful. Very blue, and very yellow. But it seems it will accommodate our drinking needs and offer a space to entertain you college co-eds matriculating down at the University of New Mexico.

We missed the new fucking Episode of fucking House M.D. tonight because apparently we are in fucking central time. 7 FUCKING PM. WHO THE FUCK STARTS PRIME TIME TELEVISION AT 7 FUCKING PM? And my illustrious editor doesn’t feel that alcohol is needed to cope with this travesty. If he didn’t have the keys to the rental I would drive that shit to the border and sell it for a six pack of corona and a bus ticket to San Diego. But I don’t know where he hid them. Fuck that guy.

This is a sober, pissed off William F. Willard signing off.

One thought on “Goin Out West Volume 3

  1. House, M.D. sucks. Every episode is the same!
    [Insert snarky remark from House.]
    “You’re an asshole, House.”
    “Yes I am, but I know what’s making this patient sick.”
    “That’s the only reason I put up with you, House. Oh noes! You were wrong about what’s killing the patient and now he or she is going to die … sooner!”
    “Wait, NOW I know what’s making them sick.”
    “Yay! We’ve saved him or her in the nick of time!”
    [Insert snarky remark from House.]
    “You’re still an asshole!”

    On the good side, having Prime Time start an hour early means you can get your TV watching done and still have time for beer and sinning before bedtime.

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