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We... went to Tombstone again. I think my whining over not having bought any souvenirs the two other times we were there had something to do with it. Amazing how bummed one can feel at the thought of having to return home without things like prickle pear marmalade and a book on Wild West prostitution. I even got a disposable camera so I could snap a few photo's of the desert and Tombstone, but I dread that the desert/mountain images will turn out rather blurry (if not simply portraying only the blue sky) as I took the majority of them from the open window of Jessica's moving car. We did not go back to the main street again, though (and to tell you the truth, I feel a bit reluctant to show my orange hair there again a third time in 5 days, not to mention the risk of actually stumbeling upon one of the cowboys I clung to on New Years Eve [evidence supposedly on camera film in Jessica's camera, though I just know that they'll come out black or somehow distorted in unspeakable ways, so it will all have to be remembered mentally only because.. that's my luck] - oh, the horror and embarrassement.), but instead went to the Boothill Graveyard.
I felt very morbid and Harold'y, snapping pictures of tomb-boards proclaiming that this and that person had been shot by so and so. Yes, I of course took pictures of the Clanton brother's grave. I tried to cling on to a bit of respect at least by not making jokes or openly pointing at the graves, but it did make me feel a bit ill as I walked there, row after row of graves being looked upon and loudly discussed by American, German, British (and me, Swedish) tourists. *shrug*
After aquiring a few souvenirs for myself and a few friends, we drove back (we did slowly drive through the main street, and my heart fluttered as we slowly passed The Crystal Palace saloon so I could snap a picture, because inside I could see a multitude of people sitting/standing, and among them, several old fashioned cowboys) and went to Wal-Mart. I left with 4 bra's, ($4/a piece), where two were cheap, sequin covered numbers, one black and one red. As I tried the red one on, I suddenly got an urge to bleach two strips of my bangs and make a poor living off of impersonating Ginger Spice, 15 years from now at a Spice Girls re-union, desperately trying to run on the stage taken by her former band mates somewhere in Vegas.
I saw A Bugs Life. Yes. It's wonderful and very, very funny, and yeah, the outtakes were cool.
Well. It is Sunday night. I leave Tuesday morning. Therefore, I'm signing off - I'd rather spend this brief time left talking some more with Jessica. Happy January :)
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