Baked on the Reservation

Being the cause of all the worlds cancer, Phoenician politicians decided to punish smokers in the last election by rolling out two false choice propositions banning smoking and raising the taxes about 30% in one shot.

Of course, I could go on for 3000 words about the ridiculousness of these false electoral choices and the people who can't see past them, but that would be a whole lot of work for something people won't read anyway--no energy for it today.

This is about my seeking to avoid the newest few pounds of tyrannical ridiculousness by making the addict's pilgrimage to the reservation (smoking, by default I think, makes me a freedom fighter of some sort, which is a convenient thing to play in this case and helps me ignore the fact that I could just, well, quit).

The reservation is really just a big Chevron station with an increasingly trafficked, tax-exempt smoke-shop. I'm part of the "increasingly" in that last statement, as I only found out about it's existence a few months ago myself.

Not only do trips to the res make me happy because it saves us a fairly sizeable bit of cash over time (we are some cancer spewin' mofos), it's just a fun place to go. It's really the only place that I can think of where I don't mind the 15-20 min wait in line. The scenery in this place is fantastic--I love to stand quietly and soak in the freak carnival of which I am a part.

The line moves, small distraction.

They surge all around with the frenetic yet mindless energy only maintained by those who have no idea where they are and who don't much care--wherever is fine. Stumbling around in circles, they will sometimes run into you and then look incredulous, as though they cannot imagine how such a thing could have happened and that you, an alien ninja, must therefore be at fault for the collision. It's good times.

Soaking it all in at once is one thing, but I don't let it monopolize my time. I also enjoy staying on the lookout for celebrities. Just yesterday, I think I saw Ted Nugent. It was either Ted, or his very near hair approximation, wearing a cooler "t-shirt underneath the sleeveless t-shirt" look--for a second I thought that I may have been witnessing the birth of a whole new hillbilly haute, a new Billy Ray Cyrus moment in fashion.

"Check out that guy" Mrs. Head nudged me.

"Dude, I think that's Ted Nugent," I said under my breath, "I'm going to see if he'll sign my carton."

The line moves, small distraction. When I looked over again, Ted was gone.

"Damn, he's already gone? I had no idea Ted Nugent would be that fast."

Mrs. Head looked back, "He probably had to go kill something."

When she's right, she's right.

I wasn't that disappointed that Ted left, but his presence left me with the distinct urge to hear some Damn Yankees and "get taken high enough", barricade myself in the house, and spend the rest of the day frying bacon.

The line moves, small distraction.

"I wonder what the cashier would do if I went up to the counter and asked for an application to be an Indian? You think she would get it, or would that get us thrown out and maybe killed?"

"Yeah, something like that."

It is seriously easy to get the giggles in this place. I think the lady standing in front of us heard my question, so she turned around and gave us "the pretty face".

I don't think a meandering discourse is necessary concerning her looks, but I will tell you that I would have bet a c-note on the spot that she hooked in the mid to late 80's.

What's important here is "the pretty face". Here's how you can see what it looks like.

Get yourself in front of a mirror. NOTE: Make sure no one else is around. You should have no illusions here, "the pretty face" is not pretty. It doesn't matter who you are, it will remain "the pretty face". Mrs. Head has a friend (the originator of this godawful contortion) that is very pretty and does the best "the pretty face" you've ever seen-she's hideous. It seems the better looking you are normally, the more hideous "the pretty face" makes you.

Show your teeth (don't smile, just show your teeth) until your eyes begin to squint. Concentrate on the uppermost portion of your gums. Lean your head sort of out and over to the side. This is the end result. To do the entire pretty face motion, simply start from rest, then begin slowly showing your teeth while rotating your head over to the side and out a little.

There you go. See? Pretty.

The line moves, small distraction.

Pay for smokes. Gotta go.