Vodka & Pancakes

the things I eat and the drinks I drink…a Louisiana blog

Aliens. They don’t exist. Hell? It does. It’s called Roswell.

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My friend visited from Los Angeles recently.  My boyfriend made the comment that she said “literally” in every sentence (she does).  “Literally her head exploded…”  “I literally died…”  First of all, no one exploded.  Nor did did anyone die.  Trust me, this would be a better story if any of that shit literally happened.

I guess my point is (moo points), that since I understand the heft of saying “literally”, please believe me when I say…Roswell is literally fucking terrible.  Literally I mean it and it’s fucking terrible.

Unless you give a shit about aliens.  I don’t.  And here’s why.


I can’t pin point where I should begin my story, is it with the denim twins?  Or is it with the fact that I hung out in one of Roswell’s finest bars, and it was located in the most expensive hotel in the city.  Don’t be jealous, it was the Day’s Inn.  It was literally a shit hole with an indoor pool so the entire building made my hair frizz.

I guess I’ll start there.

Tuesday night, I was sitting in a sushi bar drinking a glass of wine discussing our upcoming trip to Santa Fe.  When I say I had a shitty idea, believe me when I say I wish I could turn back time.  I (being a person who loves adventure and now hates Roswell) said, “since we are DRIVING to Santa Fe, lets go early and go to Roswell (my boyfriend loves aliens.  I would say more but let’s just subtly leave it with ‘Ancient Aliens’ is all that’s currently on our DVR) and we can go a day early.”  Who knew, twenty words could bite my ass so hard that I could still feel it six weeks later.

So the next day, we decided to say “fuck work” (I seem to say that more often than “not fuck work”) and headed to Roswell.  Let me emphasize, t’s fucking terrible.  Oh, and I forgot all my clothes.

Post-sushi, pre-Day’s Inn?  I left ALL my clothes at home.  It’s funny, as we were leaving my boyfriend looked at me and said, “did you leave anything at home we should grab before we get too far?”  I, exasperatingly, rolled my eyes and  said no and that anything I forgot I could just buy in Roswell. Well, guess what., I left all my clothes at home.  LITERALLY.  I had the clothes on my back (which stayed there for five days) and a shirt to sleep in (henceforth called my ‘sleepieshirt’).  As I learned, you honestly don’t need much more.  But we stopped at the Roswell JC Penney and I bought a dress for $15.  So I had my car outfit, a shitty dress and my sleepieshirt.  Made me rethink the way I pack.  Essentially I’m never packing again.  Makes you realize how much you don’t need clothing when you don’t have any.  Just pack your sleepieshirt.


If you havent been to Roswell (don’t go), it’s much different than you would expect.  There are no alien themed restaurants, which is disappointing.  There are no bars, which is also disappointing wherever you go.  So we roll into town, (we drove through Lubbock which smells like cow poos) around 8.  I urbanspooned it and we found the nicest restaurant in town (not alien themed- there are no alien themed places there which seems to me like someone is losing a LOT of money) which has a 37%.   At that point, after nine hours who gives a shit.  So we ordered a pitcher of beer, as the only liquor they had was tequila (weird), and a pizza and a grilled cheese.  That was mine, I don’t share.  It was a small pizza.  Number one problem with Roswell is there is a time change and I’m hungry.


Anyways, the next day we headed over to the UFO museum.  Here actually begins my story.  First off, I saw these idiots.  Who still sells denim overalls to someone not working in a farm capacity?  I texted the pic to my friend in LA (the one mentioned above who after reading this is no longer peaking to me) who made the comment about the straps.  MY THOUGHTS TOO!  Did they do it on purpose?  Too many questions that following them around didn’t solve.  Although, oddly enough, they weren’t the weirdest people there.  Lots o’ foreigns.  Like buses of them.

This picture…well, it’s a point of contention.  ‘X-files’?  They include seven posters of ‘X-Files’ but none of ‘Roswell’, the fucking amazing CW show; star crossed lovers…an alien and a Roswalien (henceforth all Roswell residents are Rosaliens.  too easy, honestly this blog wrote itself).  It was like the ‘Twlight’ of alien programming.  Who would go to  vampire museum and not see ‘Twilight’?  I mean, yes we all know it’s terrible, but it was a major grossing movie about vampires.  Side note, I saw Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ the other day.  Good shit.    Another side note, what ever happened to Gillian Andersons’s career?  Put her on Californication.


I took this pic because the guy in the middle looks like a guy I dated in high school.  Made me laugh.  Then it made me question my life.  I’m the one in Roswell taking a picture of some guy that looks like a loser I dated 10 years ago.  Oh high school.  I with I could delete you from my memory.


I’m a fast reader.  I’m also a good judge of things that are boring so those boring things get skimmed.  I figure, I read every fifth word, then at the end I make my on story of the few words I read.  Theme- Aliens.  It took me 9 minutes to go through the place.    It took my boyfriend, henceforth known as my ex-boyfrind (just kidding.  ugh), four hours.


I took this picture because I couldn’t decide what was the best part of this picture.  The fact that aliens eat at Arbys or that Arby’s has wi-fi.  At least someone is eating at Arbys I guess.

Here is something I thought about while waiting for my boyfriend in the UFO museum (not a sentence I thought I would ever say)-while we were in Paris, there was a haute couture exhibit.  I wanted to go.  My alien loving and believing he-boy did not.  Did we go?  No.  Fast forward five months and I’m in Roswell questioning my life.


I’m putting an ad in Craigslist for a new boyfriend.  Honestly, the dudes who came to pick up our dining room chairs weren’t that bad…

Sorry if you live in Roswell.  Here is some free advice.  Move.

I normally do cool shit with my pictures but I am waaaayyy too hungover


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