A cowgirls conspiracy

Where have I been for the last five days?

At the moment I’m in Beverly Hills attending a Canadian tourism conference. I drove into 90210-land after a weekend spent at Slab City with a crew of hitchhikers. So, one night I’m sleeping in the bed of my truck in the desert, eating cold ravioli from the can with a spork. The next night, I’m bagging zzzz’s in a white goosedown bed in the Beverly Hilton. And the afternoon before I drove into the desert, I was wandering around the house with the rear hem of my skirt tucked into my underpants. I was dressed like that because of a raging case of poison oak all over my calves. I had just worked up a minor but itch-stimulating sweat walking home from the post office, where, for the third time in five days, I had opened a Netflix envelope to find the disc for “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues” cracked in half. I think there’s a message there.


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