The Devil’s Cooter

Okay, what is about to be said is to be held in the strictest of confidences. Only me and the 3.5 (I don’t know where the half comes from, but a .5 always makes shit seem more official) of you folks that actually look at my page between porn and news websites (which are almost the same thing at this point).

So here goes. I miss Satan’s Vagina. (You know it as an Arizona.)

I have mixed feeling about the Devil’s Cooch. On the one hand, it is— hand’s down— one of the most beautiful places you will see in the United States. There are places there… as simple as forests… that will take your breath away. But Beelzebub’s Punani is every bit the trickster you would expect. It is the deadly venus fly trap… sweetly pungent and tangy, laying in wait to strike. And strike it will. The demon vage is truly the root of all that is unholy and… dare I say it… Obama… and it takes no prisoners.

So what is it that currently makes me want Oprah’s Tang like a Dr Pepper in a Malaysian sweat shop? I don’t know exactly.

I moved to Flagstaff in August of 2003 as part of the National Student Exchange Program. I joined the program as part of a conscious (and yet wholly unsuccessful) effort to expand my horizons. I chose Northern Arizona University and Flagstaff– a town known by pretty much no one and famous for all of jack shit– as my move of choice for a few reasons.

  • My first choice, San Jose California, rejected me.
  • It was a long way from home.
  • Janae, a girl whom I considered a very close friend, was also attending NAU.
  • It was a long, long, long way from home.
  • Have you seen the women in AZ? Good lord. Those demon spawn just make me want to invade their “Underworld” all night long.
  • It looked kind of like that great John Candy movie, “The Great Outdoors.”
  • It was a loooooooonggg goddamn way from home.
  • None of those FUCKS bothered to tell me the University of Hawaii was an option. What the cock is up with that shit???!!!

So I packed all my belongings– a total of four boxes– in my van, and said goodbye to my loved ones. There was a party. Reveling. A rousing chorus of “Ding, Dong, The Wicked Witch is Dead”. (Which old witch? The Wi-cked Witch! *ahem* Sorry.) And we made a big dramatic event out of it. After all, I would be gone the better part of a year.

And sometime in the middle of night we began the long arduous trek from our world to the Bizzarro world of the West coast. It was like an education in Americana, as we drove across plains, fields and mountains, growing to know the road. We stopped briefly to see Janae in Phoenix. I dropped my friend who had gone with me at the Phoenix Airport and finished the last leg on my own.

I put Willie Nelson on my stereo and drew my coach North through all that remained of the Wild West.

Flagstaff is a bizarre little town. Quaint, yet buzzing. Brilliant yet boring. In the middle of everything, yet too far away to be worthwhile. It’s hardly insufferable, for this is something very special about it. That said, the fuckers didn’t have any decent Chinese, so it may as well be a third world nation in my book.

And the University which I assume is largely responsible for the town’s economic development over the years, is equally anomalous. NAU is beset on all sides by two cemeteries, various bars and a strip club. That’s right. In one day in the fine city of Flagstaff, you can attend your class on Dramatic Irony, attend two funerals in under an hour, get piss drunk, and head to the titty bar, where for a ten spot you can fist Destiny to your heart’s content… all without driving. Say what you want about them… Flag residents know how to get shit done!

I lived at the North end of the Campus in Taylor Hall. Much to the delight of my big fat ass, my room was on the second floor, so I had to haul my shit up a flight of stairs. Being already 1000 feet in altitude, there was not a single step as I carried my 200 pound duffels skyward that was not accompanied by the words “cocksucker motherfucker”. I got my own room though, leaving my lonely ass free to masturbate to as much internet porn as I saw fit. So there’s that.

My friendship with Janae lasted all of a week. Maybe two. But I did make a few other friends. The National Student Exchange had sort of an impromptu meet and greet. I met four people there. One was a girl named Jenna whom my genitals immediately identified as being “fertile ground”. I actually tried to ask her out at one point, but the “non-date” was cut short when she showed up with two foreign guys, forever engraining me with a hatred of the Dutch. There was a guy, but he just sort of faded away after a day. The last two actually stuck around for the better part of the semester.

Beth was a really nice girl on the surface. From Vermont, I think. She let me drive her new car at one point, which instantly made me like her. We hung out a little. Talked. But after a month or so, I got the distinct impression she didn’t want me around. It was kind of disconcerting, because she was really vague about it. I hate people like that. If you don’t want me around, just tell me so. Don’t wait for me to get the goddamn hint. That’s pussy shit. (Not to be confused with pussy farts.) I stopped trying to hang out with her, but did manage to get her to let me stay in her apartment my last night in Flag, before I drove home.

Kristin was this little bit of spitfire from Connecticut. She was my driving buddy. My karaoke partner. A fellow Comic and wrestling fan. And at the end of the day, the Lucy to my Desi Arnez. Which often resulted in depressingly bad impressions of an insane Cuban man. Sadly, our adventures lasted about two months. Her boyfriend showed up, and we didn’t get along. But you know, shit happens.

I tried to make friends at my first job. I was delivering pizza at Papa Johns. I tried… but… they were all bleeding cunt rags. It was one of those jobs where you wanted to whip so many of your so-workers’ asses, that you finally just say “Fuck it. I’ll just bring in a gun.” So that didn’t work out. And eventually I was fired because the management didn’t know their pussies from their assholes (in all fairness, both smelled like shit). So no friends there.

And it seemed like the entire population of Satan’s Vagina was constantly on their rag. I tried to get to know people . To be friendly. But no one seemed willing to give me the same opportunity. That realization combined with the financial blow of losing my job resulted in me having a complete break down in the middle of the quad. Thank fully no one was around to see me fall apart. But it was bad. BAD. And I pretty much decided that there was no way I would make it through another semester at NAU. The Devil’s Cooch had chewed me up and spit me out a sloppy mess.

I was in a bad way. I lost my job. Not long after, I lost the few friends I had out there. But I was a long way from home. I couldn’t just up and leave when things got rough. I had no choice but to persevere. I had this amazing writing teacher out there. His name was Tom Carpenter. And if I had stayed in Arizona long enough, he would have been a mentor. As it is, he’s one of the few truly decent people I met in Flag. He did his best to encourage and coach my writing more than any other person I’d met up to that point. It was another 3 years and a Myspace account before anyone else encourage me on that level. But more than that, he took a personal interest in me; he found me a job as marketing assistant, working for his friend at a small publishing company. The job at Northland Publishing was a bit of a saving grace for me. And I actually met some very nice people there, though they were all older than me.

But in the midst of that personal and financial crisis (and subsequent reconstruction), I went out and discovered America. A few days after I was fired from Papa Johns, I drove to Las Vegas. That’s a story in and of itself. But Sin City was a sight. Like being cast in a Sinatra film. Later, when I lost my driving buddy, I went off on my own. I explored the depths of Shiva’s Sloppy Sugar-Shack. There’s a lot to see in northern Arizona. The small town charm of Prescott. The larger than life beauty of Prescott Valley. The history of Montezuma’s Castle. And who can forget the grandest ditch of them all, the Grand Canyon? But my absolute favorite was Sedona. If there is one place in Faust’s Fishy Forest that I could live, it’s Sedona. It’s like this cozy little secret in the heart of the South West. On one level, the tourist part of it is am homage to the South West itself. But then you have all these great camping areas and natural wonder’s like Slide Rock. During our first visit, Kristin and I found this amazing little artist’s village. It was just… the kind of place where you want to retire and paint, and be buried among the roses. They had everything from paintings to sculptures to jewelry. It was beautiful. Like a Garden of Eden made manifest.

But in between my explorations I was still miserable. Alone. I had gained 20 pounds forcing french mints down my gullet like Peggy Bundy after her 10 year reunion. And when it came time to go, I wasn’t even a little sorry. The goodbye’s I said were… not pleasant. I only saw Janae because my friend Josh, who was making the return journey with me as well, wanted to see her again before we went home. And I was at my snarkiest as we sat at that table in a mall in Phoenix. It was pretty uncomfortable.

So why do I miss Arizona?

Well, I don’t miss living there. But it was a unique time in my life. And I do miss being able to take a drive only to find another small wonder that this country has to offer. Maybe I’m just a fool, living off nostalgia. But I sure would love to see that place again.

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5 responses to this post.

  1. […] ssndrs wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerptOkay, what is about to be said is to be held in the strictest of confidences. Only me and the 3.5 (I don’t know where the half comes from, but a .5 always makes shit seem more official) of you folks that actually look at my page between porn and news websites (which are almost the same thing at this point). So here goes. I miss Satan’s Vagina. (You know it as an Arizona.) I have mixed feeling about the Devil’s Cooch. On the one hand, it is— hand’s down— one of the most beautiful places you will see in the United States. There are places there… as simple as forests… that will take your breath away. But Beelzebub’s Punani is every bit the trickster you would expect. It is the deadly venus fly trap… sweetly pungent and tangy, laying in wait […] […]

    Reply

  2. Posted by Chaibaby on March 4, 2008 at 4:15 pm

    Gorgeous pic!! I love Arizona! Sedona, especially! Not to rub it in, hun…but this blgo came at such a coincidental time — I leave for Phoenix on Saturday for 5 days. You should make a road trip back there sometime!

    Reply

  3. Posted by Loree on March 4, 2008 at 4:36 pm

    You know what? It’s still there. And you’re still young, nostalgic (?) and foolish, so hope persists.

    Fun to read, Adam…

    p.s. Is it my brain or is this page a little schizophrenic? Seems to me it looks different every time I come by. (I know – so come by more regularly.) (Workin’ on it.)

    Reply

  4. Loree-

    It’s not you. I have changed the page a couple of times. But it’s going to stay like this.

    Yeah, it’s there. But I’m here and don’t have the money to be there. Plus it would be nice to have someone to go with. Road buddy.

    Reply

  5. Jo-

    First, why is your email “theCAHIbaby”? What’s a cahi? Is it a fish?

    There’s no such thing as coincidence, there’s only God pissing in your face. I wish I had a job like yours. It sounds really cool. As for the road trip… thats a loooooong drive. It was nice the first time, but I’d rather fly to Phoenix and rent a car.

    Reply

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