There's nothing like a piss-soaked palm tree basking in the light of dusk.

Lena Cuisina: Ever the realist.

True story:

One night before Lena and Amy were strolling along the avenue of palm trees shown above, after an evening of writing and reading books on the Tuskegee Syphillis Study at the local watering hole. Flamer (I mean, Amy) noticed a man urinating on one of the trees pictured above and, good citizen that she is, took it upon herself to educate him on the proper disposal of human waste. The man responded by commenting on the impressive size of his member. Amy immediately approached him, craning her neck to get a better view.

"Oh my god, it's so small. It is SO small!" she said sympathetically. "It's horrible! I feel so sorry for you!"

Never let it be said that Amy Alkon is a hard and heartless bitch.

My God! That was Amy?!

Guess I didn't recognize her in the dark.

Lena...the hopeless romantic

Non sequitor of the hour: What part of New Mexico are you in, Sheryl? I love the Museum of Folk Art in Santa Fe. First time I went there, they were exhibiting Turkish rugs, and they just piled them up high. We were walking around on all these squishy piles of rugs, with rugs all over the walls and ceilings. It was a very deep rug experience (There's a lesbian sex joke in there somewhere. I just too tired to dig for it.)

I also like the wooden sculptures of San Ysidro. He's the saint that used to come down from the clouds to do your field labor in the hot midday sun (sounds like a dehydration hallucination to me). Maybe someday San Ysidro appear in a vision to do all my regression analyses for me.

There was also a really seedy gay bar in Albuquerque called "The Stretched-Open Sphincter" or something like that. And we went to some hot springs that was mis-pronounced as "Heinous." Speaking of heinous sphincters, there was a man at the hot springs who'd had a colostomy, and he was running around butt naked with his sewn-up ass crack and a fresh plastic bag over his abdomen to catch all the poop. Needless to say, he had a part of the springs all to himself.

Sorry for the random chattiness. I just ate a huge piece of chocolate cake. I had a very difficult day at work. I had to put some bitch in her place (satisfying but exhausting).

I am so glad I have actually met Amy or the story about her apologizing to the man for his small member probably would not have made me laugh so much.

I still can not get used to the guys in Paris pushing themselves into small corners right off of busy sidewalks to relieve themselves. Sometimes they are even well dressed. That is just not acceptable where I was raised.

"And we went to some hot springs that was mis-pronounced as "Heinous." "

I believe you are thinking of Jemez Springs (Hay-mess). A lovely spot only rarely frequented by colostomy patients.

Thanks, Alan. Yes, the place was beautiful. I ran around butt naked for hours (which made the place a little LESS beautiful). It was like Woodstock or something.

Jason -- I once saw the firemen, who jog at Champ de Mars (around the Eiffel Tower) simultaneously line up (about 10 of them!), whip it out, and urinate on a wall in broad daylight! Oh, to have a digital camera with me! PS They are HAUT, HAUT, HAUT! Makes the run worthwhile, even if they do stop for a rather uncouth bathroom break in complete public.

Lena,

I'm not in Santa Fe but I zip up there every so often to take in a few museums and galleries. The folk art museum is one of my favs. San Ysidro, well yes, I've always wondered what exactly was up with that, not that it stops me from going to the blessing of the fields on San Ysidro's feast day.

I've had some pretty interesting experiences at Jemez (Hey-Mez) Springs but never one involving an ostomy bag. I think I'd rather see the French firemen peeing in unison.

I could use some chocolate. Please send a piece of cake this way.

When I was a tyke we used to clear out the Acequia Madre on S.Y.'s day. Now everyone in Santa Fe thinks Acequia Madre is the name of a street.

Hi Sheryl --

"we used to clear out the Acequia Madre on S.Y.'s day."

I don't get it. Please explain!

If you didn't live so far away, I'd surely share my chocolate cake with you and Senor Ysidro (it's the least we can do, after all his hard work!). I like chocolate cakes that are flourless and rich, dusted with powdered sugar. With a cup of strong coffee, it's my drug of choice.

I just got back from a work-related trip to Nashville. Now THAT is a useless, ugly town.

So, do you live in Albuquerque, Sher-babe? Did you ever go to that hippie-ish club The Machine? I knew those guys. I did acid with one of them back in high school, quite a few times (this explains a lot, I know).

FYI to all: Augusten Burroughs' new book Magical Thinking is terrific. Highly recommended. Funny and bitchy and sweet. Like I like 'em.