Monday was spent on two of mah favorite places in Arizona; indeed in all of these United States: The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum and Old Tucson. I took quite a few pics at the Desert Museum, but really few at Old Tucson, since I'd been twice before and we didn't spend all that much time there anyway; we got in late since we spent so much time at the first place.
Some kind of falcon. Or hawk. Or eagle. I know it's not an ostrich.
A sleepy looking barn owl. Most of the animals we saw this day looked sleepy.
Hummingbirds are just regular birds who have forgotten the words to the song.
I suggested the yellow color looked like flower smegma and was told I was disgusting.
Sleepy mountain sheep.
A grey fox snoring his days away. And yes, he's up a tree.
A Mexican wolf. There are about 50 of these left in the wild.
It's good to see that Barry is still remembered fondly in some places.
It's a miracle his jaws still held.
One of entirely too many pics I took of this puttycat.
Awww, look at that face.
Just another kitteh.
Although, that glass is the only reason we are still alive.
Yaaaaaaaawn.
Eight years after... and still a moron.
For reference; same situation in 2012:
This hamburger was almost unedible. The Pony Express Pizza and Grill in Old Tucson is a horrible place in an otherwise great old town.
Sundown over Old Tucson. This place is pretty much as close to the Old West as I'll ever come.
Tuesday, we drove out of Arizona and into California but not before acquiring some memories. This is from a gas station in Eloy, between Tucson and Phoenix, where we saw an honest to fuck banjo player at the gas pumps. We joked nervously about having a purdy mouth, but I was glad to get outta Redneckville.
Finally, this elderly gentleman flipped us the bird somewhere just south of Phoenix. You see, my San Diego crew, who are quite a bit more liberal than yours truly, had a bumper sticker saying "The Democrat 2020" on the back of our car and this twice raised the ire of these orange-worshipping snowflakes. Come to think of it, he had small hands, too.
Some kind of falcon. Or hawk. Or eagle. I know it's not an ostrich.
A sleepy looking barn owl. Most of the animals we saw this day looked sleepy.
Hummingbirds are just regular birds who have forgotten the words to the song.
I suggested the yellow color looked like flower smegma and was told I was disgusting.
Sleepy mountain sheep.
A grey fox snoring his days away. And yes, he's up a tree.
A Mexican wolf. There are about 50 of these left in the wild.
It's good to see that Barry is still remembered fondly in some places.
It's a miracle his jaws still held.
One of entirely too many pics I took of this puttycat.
Awww, look at that face.
Just another kitteh.
Although, that glass is the only reason we are still alive.
Yaaaaaaaawn.
Eight years after... and still a moron.
For reference; same situation in 2012:
This hamburger was almost unedible. The Pony Express Pizza and Grill in Old Tucson is a horrible place in an otherwise great old town.
Sundown over Old Tucson. This place is pretty much as close to the Old West as I'll ever come.
Tuesday, we drove out of Arizona and into California but not before acquiring some memories. This is from a gas station in Eloy, between Tucson and Phoenix, where we saw an honest to fuck banjo player at the gas pumps. We joked nervously about having a purdy mouth, but I was glad to get outta Redneckville.
Finally, this elderly gentleman flipped us the bird somewhere just south of Phoenix. You see, my San Diego crew, who are quite a bit more liberal than yours truly, had a bumper sticker saying "The Democrat 2020" on the back of our car and this twice raised the ire of these orange-worshipping snowflakes. Come to think of it, he had small hands, too.
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