Flaming Dust Bunnies, Montezuma's Revenge & Gelato Purveying to the Stars
Plus mule-training tips, incognito priests and life lessons from poodles.
The joke's on us. . . This bit of regional humor comes courtesy of Aironot:
"A New Mexico rancher had a mule that would not obey any command and was basically worthless. Finally one day the rancher heard of a rodeo cowboy close by who had a great reputation for training mules.
"He took his mule over to the mule trainer's and tied it in front of the house. After knocking and not getting an answer, he finally heard a noise at the barn and walked down to the barn. The mule trainer had been working at the barn. He asked the rancher what he could do for him and he was told about the mule. The mule trainer asked where the mule was and was told he was tied in front of the house. On the way to the house the trainer picked up a fence post.
"When they got to the house the trainer walked once around the mule and then took the post and hit it on the right side of the head and knocked the mule to the ground. Dazed, it shook its head and slowly got to its feet. The trainer walked around to the other side and knocked it to the ground a second time. At this point the owner of the mule said, 'Now wait a minute. I want you to train my mule, not kill him!'
"The trainer replied, 'Mister, before you can train a mule you have to get his attention.'"
Kids do the darnedest things. . . Thanks to Bert of the Burros for passing along this list originally penned (so it says) by a mother in Austin, Texas. "Having raised four sons," Bert adds, "this brought tears to my eyes—of joy and pain.
"Things I've learned from my boys (honest and not kidding):
- "A king-size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2,000-square-foot house four inches deep.
- "If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
- "A three-year old boy's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.
- "If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42-pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20-by-20-foot room.
- "You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.
- "The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
- "When you hear the toilet flush and the words 'uh-oh,' it's already too late.
- "Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
- "A six-year-old boy can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year-old man says they can only do it in the movies.
- "Certain Legos will pass through the digestive tract of a four-year-old boy.
- "'Play-Doh' and 'microwave' should not be used in the same sentence.
- "Super Glue is forever.
- "No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.
- "Pool filters do not like Jell-O.
- "VCRs do not eject PB & J sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.
- "Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
- "Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
- "You probably DO NOT want to know what that odor is.
- "Always look in the oven before you turn it on; plastic toys do not like ovens.
- "The fire department in Austin, Texas, has a five-minute response time.
- "The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
- "It will, however, make cats dizzy.
- "Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
- "Eighty percent of men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.
"Women will pass this on to almost all of their friends, with or without kids: To those with no children—this is totally hysterical! Those who already have children past this age—this is hilarious. Those who have children this age—this is not funny. Those who have children nearing this age—this is a warning. Those who have not yet had children— this is birth control."
Broadening experiences. . . With summer vacation season upon us, Desert Diary invites you to beat next fall's schoolteachers to the punch and share your own stories of "What I Did on My Summer (or other season) Vacation." Send your true tales of travel travails and triumphs to PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com. To start us off, enjoy this extended travelogue of a recent winter vacation, submitted by Sapillo Slim, which he entitles "Gringos on Holiday":
"We arrived in Puerto Vallarta as scheduled and got a $20 cab to our hotel. We tipped $5, as were glad to get somewhere. I had much to learn. That was $25 for a $7 taxi ride.
"At check-in, Dawn informed me that I would be in charge of interpretations, negotiations and anything in Spanish. Mi espanol hacia altras es malo y muy feo. I can think of things to say, but I don't hear so well the responses. We had money, so they made it work while I learned.
"Caurenta may never translate as '40' in my mind.
"We had hauchanango (red snapper) asada and the first of a hundred beers and crashed early. We were going to Barra de Navidad at dawn, which translates as amanacer. (I never once called Dawn "amanacer.")
"Before sunrise we hit the street in search of a city bus to a bus station. The language didn't work, so we got a taxi to a bus stop near a market. We went on a 10-block taxi ride that took us about two blocks north of our hotel. Had we started out in the other direction, we would have tripped on the bus stop, which is, of course, just a curb with a blue and white sign.
"We got some fruit and caught a second-class bus to Barra de Navidad. The connection was fairly easy, all in all. We got to Barra around 1 p.m., checked in and went for a walk, a happy hour pool party and eventually dinner. Very nice resort town!
"Before amanacer, we were at it again. We knew where we were going but we were in the dark, so to speak and literally, about how to get there. The industrious taxi driver lined us up for Manzanillo—a $30 fare—and off we went. When asked about the local bus schedule. he replied, 'No se, no se.'
"About five miles down Hwy 200 I spotted a parked bus, had my amigo pull over and we changed vehicles. I was saving us about $15, although Dawn didn't really care for all the confusion. All in all, though, I felt good about understanding what was happening. After the first taxi ride in PV, I was leery of those guys.
"So, here we were at 8 a.m. on Dec. 23 at a camionere centro (bus station) in Manzanillo, still with no clue about the bus system. Would you believe there was a Primera Plus bus leaving for Zihuatanejo at 8:30 a.m.? Our half-hour wait could have easily been a half a day had we arrived much later. There were three seats left after we bought ours and headed to the departure area.
"The long and winding road went on for 11 hours, with the scenery sometimes stunning on the coast and sometimes, because of overgrowth blocking the view on either side, very boring in the hill country. Sly Stallone in Cliffhanger was showing in English with Spanish subtitles. I hadn't seen it. I wish I could still say that.
"The trip was a bit strained, but we got to Casa de Huespedes Ada and negotiated a bed for the night. We got the room nearest to the family dining room, which is where the hosts congregate at night. Our room was small, but clean and only 300 pesos a night in the Christmas season. We asked around town and decided in the morning to plop down 2,700 pesos (US$250) for nine more nights.
"On Christmas Eve our hosts got wound up on Crown Royal and very loud with laughter. We were lying in bed reading novels—three each on the trip—and at around 2 a.m. Ada showed up at our hotel room door with a plate of food. She was kinda tipsy and not a little forceful. She wouldn't leave till I tried a bite of everything. In my underwear.
"Over the course of our time in Zihuat we went to the four beaches on the bay. We walked to three, one of which was a few miles away, and we took the ferry to Playa De Los Gatas.
"As we were walking up to the pier to catch the ferry, a man asked us, 'You wan go feeshing?'
"I replied, 'No, gracias.'
"He quietly said, 'Meow, meow.'
"Playa de los Gatos means 'Beach of the Cats.' He was a very amusing fellow indeed.
"We ate at the market and at the cheap local joints. After about six days I started breaking out with zits and boils, so we cut back on the chips and fried stuff and started buying fresh fruit, vegetable and bolillos (fresh rolls, much like French bread), my new favorite Mexican food. I caught a four-day cold, as well as Montezuma's revenge (every time!) and got better on both counts.
"We went to Ixtapa and saw The Barcelo, where I'd stayed with my friends, Tim and Jan, in 2003. We also went to The Dorado, where friends Chuck and Naomi were married, but didn't stay long. Zihuat is more like Dawn and me than Ixtapa. Besides, our budget was $100 a day, not $100 for dinner.
"We got out and about every day and night. Usually with a couple beers around midday, followed by a nap and back at it in the evening. Food and booze are mostly affordable, so we were spending quite freely and staying within a loosey-goosey budget. We saw a handful of American football games and kept up with the news in the Miami Herald (en Ingles) for $1.10 at one in the afternoon. By two o'clock all four copies would be gone.
"The weather was perfect with highs around 82, getting down to 65 at night, with no rain. For the duration, the town was packed with Mexicans on holiday. There were many people coming and going at our hotel, but it was mostly sold out, with no vacancies.
"Our planned departure from Zihuat was Jan. 1, but after a trip to the bus station on the morning of the 31st, we were resigned to leaving on the 3rd. The busses were also sold out. We went back to Ada and asked if we could stay another two days, and maybe get a room with a kitchen. For $10 a day more, we moved into the best suite in the house, which had a king-size bed, a bigger bathroom, a kitchen with a table for six and a balcony on the front that was eight feet deep and 40 feet wide. We got supplies and didn't leave much for a few days. On the balcony in our rocking chairs we watched the folks pass by the many trees, tropical plants and flowers on the most beautiful—pedestrian-only—street in town.
"On New Year's Eve, we went to the tienda by the b-ball court and bought some Sonoran beef. New York strips, garlic bolillos, broccoli, mushrooms and boiled potatoes tasted a lot like home after all the hand-made corn tortillas.
"After a week or so we lost track of time. It was getting more and more difficult to remember what day it was.
"We left reluctantly on the 3rd. The bus was two hours late and got more behind schedule as the trip went on. Unfortunately, I didn't yet know better, and I booked seats in the rear of the bus. The bathroom door had a tricky latch and we became bathroom attendants for all children under seven. The stench was unbelievable. It was funny later—much later and not that funny. That was 11 hours with our T-shirts pulled up over our noses.
"We arrived in Melaque at about midnight. We got a room at the beautiful Monterey Hotel, right on the water. The hotel, beer store and hot dog cart were all within 100 yards of the bus stop. All were open at midnight. We caught a lot of breaks on this trip.
"In the morning, we moved from our room in the front to one in the back facing the ocean. We had a huge balcony and 14-foot ceilings, with cable TV. Dawn killed a huge flying bug with her shoe.
"We made bus reservations for the next day and walked about three miles along the beach to Barra and took the local bus back. We went swimming, had a few chilly ones and made the best of happy hour. On a terrace overlooking the main street in Melaque we had a fine dinner.
"The connection the next day was on time and we rode in a deluxe-class bus back to PV. Ocean's Eleven was showing on a 20-inch screen. We got off in the hotel district and walked to a cheap room. We went out for happy hour at The 'No Name Bar,' which had air conditioning and 30 Tvs with sports on all channels. It was very Americanized. We may as well have been in San Diego. I was sticker-shocked at a $22 tab for five beers (Pacifico) and one shot of tequila (Herradura), which we split. We tipped $2. We went back off the beach to a small dive full of only Mexicans and got two beers and a shot (same stuff) for $7. We tipped $2 and the bartender filled up the shot glass two more times—for free. There's a moral in there somewhere.
"After our day back in Puerto Vallarta, we cherished the time when we were surrounded by the Mexican nationals in Zihuat. The American tourists seemed so boorish in comparison, and there were so many.
"To prove how far we'd come, in the morning we took the bus to the airport. The ride was 30 cents apiece rather than the $25 for a greedy taxi driver. The connection was smooth and the flight uneventful, which was exactly what we needed.
"We can't wait to go back—in the off season."
The joke's on us (travel department). . . While we're on the subject of exotic travel, there's this yarn passed along by Ned Ludd:
"Two priests decided to go to Hawaii on vacation. They were determined to make this a real vacation by not wearing anything that would identify them as clergy. As soon as the plane landed, they headed for a store and bought some really outrageous shorts, shirts, sandals, sunglasses, etc.
"The next morning, off they went to the beach, dressed in their tourist garb. They were sitting on beach chairs, enjoying a drink, the sunshine and the scenery when a drop-dead gorgeous topless blonde in a thong bikini came walking straight towards them. They couldn't help but stare. As the blonde passed them, she smiled and said, 'Good morning, Father. Good morning, Father,' nodding and addressing each of them. They were both stunned. How in the world could she know they were priests?
"So that afternoon, they went back to the store and bought even more outrageous outfits. These were so loud you could hear them before you even saw them.
"Next morning, once again, the two priests (incognito) settled on the beach in their chairs to enjoy the sunshine. After a while, the same gorgeous topless blonde, this time wearing a string bikini, taking her sweet time, came walking toward them. Again she nodded at each of them, said, 'Good morning, Father,' and started to walk away.
"One of the priests couldn't stand it any longer and said, 'Just a minute, young lady'.
"'Yes?' she replied.
"'We are priests, and proud of it, but I have to know: How in the world did you know we were priests dressed as we are?' one of the priests said.
"'Father, it's me, Sister Mary Francis,' she replied."
Hooray for Hollywood. . . With filming of an as-yet-untitled movie recently wrapped up here and the media rather pointedly excluded from the "closed set" (despite all the public assistance offered the moviemakers), we've been eager for anecdotes about locals' experiences with show biz, Southwest New Mexico-style. So imagine our excitement upon opening this missive from GelatoMan:
"I, like many Silver City merchants, eagerly anticipated the arrival of the cast and crew of the 'Untitled Niki Caro Project' to the area. Unfortunately, for most of the time that they were here, we didn't really get the increase in business (and glimpse of the stars) we had hoped for. We knew that they were shooting from dawn to dusk, but we thought that they would find the prospect of genuine homemade gelato (Italian ice cream) to be irresistible—provided they knew that we existed. We had arranged for some of our coupons to be distributed, but none had come back to us, and only a few crew members had visited (there was one alleged Charlize Theron sighting, but we weren't too sure about that).
"Our big break came two days before most of the film folks were scheduled to depart. About 8 p.m. Sunday night, our store was visited by the film's executive producer, his assistant and the first assistant director. They had been eating dinner down the street, saw my neon 'OPEN' sign and decided to check us out for dessert. Apparently they enjoyed themselves, and I tried not to think of the fact that I was finally being 'discovered' a bit too late for it to matter.
"Shortly after I opened the next day, I got a phone call from the executive producer. He wanted to know if I could supply 150 medium-size cups of gelato, to be picked up in about three hours by a driver and delivered to where they were shooting. I provided a counter-proposal: I would gather up several pans of various flavors plus cups, spoons, etc. and would drive to the site and serve them on the spot.
"Later that day, I drove to the production office to pick up a map and directions. While I was there, one of the production people handed me a stack of my coupons and apologized for not having had an opportunity to distribute them!
"The map proved to be essential. Did I mention that the filming location was the Cobre Mine, located north of Fierro?
"Now, when I received the original phone call the weather in Silver City was comfortable, albeit breezy; once I got to the mine, it was at least 20 degrees cooler, cloudy and hold-onto-your-hat windy—not ideal gelato weather, especially when I was serving the stuff outdoors. After several hours of this, it wasn't just the butter pecan gelato that had frozen nuts!
"Nonetheless, it was fun to be there hobnobbing with the crew, and I did get to see Charlize (for sure this time). The best part was that (since it was the last day of filming in the Silver City area) I was paid in cash on the spot—though I suppose I should have asked for a mention in the film's credits as well."
Your own experiences with the Untitled Niki Caro Project (not quite as catchy as, say, Revenge of the Nerds VII, but maybe that's just us) are hereby invited in these pages, along with other brushes with fame you'd care to recall. Bump into Julia Roberts once while slumming in Taos? Sit next to Michael Jordan on a plane? Tell us at Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com.
Pun intended. . . Continuing our (perhaps ill-advised) quest for punny stories, we reluctantly share the following, sent to us by Miz Martha:
"A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. 'But why?' they asked, as they moved off.
"'Because,' he said, 'I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer.'"
Pondering the imponderables. . . Finally, this life lesson forwarded to us by Toni in the Vet's Office:
"A wealthy old lady decides to go on a photo safari in Africa, taking her faithful pet poodle along for company. One day the poodle starts chasing butterflies and before long he discovers that he is lost. Wandering about, he notices a leopard heading rapidly in his direction with the obvious intention of having lunch. The poodle thinks, 'Uh-oh, I'm in deep trouble now!'
"Noticing some bones on the ground close by, he immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat. Just as the leopard is about to leap, the poodle exclaims loudly, 'Boy, that was one delicious leopard. I wonder if there are any more around here.' Hearing this, the leopard halts his attack in mid-stride, a look of terror comes over him, and he slinks away into the trees. 'Whew,' says the leopard. 'That was close. That poodle nearly had me.'
"Meanwhile, a monkey, who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the leopard. So, off he goes. But the poodle sees him heading after the leopard with great speed, and figures that something must be up. The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the leopard. The leopard is furious at being made a fool of and says, 'Here monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine.'
"Now the poodle sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back and thinks, 'What am I going to do now?' But instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hasn't seen them yet and, just when they get close enough to hear, the poodle says, 'Where's that damn monkey? I sent him off half an hour ago to bring me another leopard!'
"Today's lesson: Sometimes B.S. and brilliance are the same."
Send your vacation yarns, celebrity sightings, favorite jokes, anecdotes heart-warming and otherwise and anything else you have a mind to share with the world (at least our little corner of it) to: Desert Diary, PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134, email diary@desertexposure.com. Remember, the best submission each month earns a piece of spiffy Desert Exposure gear.
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May 2005