Satan gave me taco and it made me really sick

Mary Beth!! Give me back my jacket!

Ruffles has started eating again. But only because I broke down and bought the crappiest crap that the grocery store had to offer. It's a coagulated blob in a can that smells like toe-jam wrapped in a dirty diaper. She loves, loves, loves it. And she actually has some energy. She almost runs and has started kicking rocks and dirt over her pee spots. Now remember, just a week or so ago, Ruffles was catatonic, so this is a big improvement. Maybe it's the funky additives in the canned Alpo that's making ol' Ruffles think she's younger or stronger than she is. Kind of like when people drink alcohol and think they're attractive. (Guilty)

Right now I'm listening to 'AK,' a statewide radio show on NPR. It's for Alaskans, reported by Alaskans and sometimes it's really hilarious.
This week the show is about fashion in Alaska. So far the terms 'rural-sexual' and 'deliberately disheveled' have spoken to me the most. My girls Libby, Theresa and Nicole had hilarious stories on about their experiences with Carhartts, paint stains and hairy legs. Good job, ladies!
The other night when I was shooting the Midnight Sun Game, I met a couple of Canadians from BC who had driven to Fairbanks for the game. The couple (Christina and Mike) and I ended up meeting up yesterday, so I could show them the cabin and some real sled dogs. They were super nice (of course they were, they're Canucks) and they loved Fairbanks. I think partly because it becomes glaringly apparent soon after arriving here that nobody gives a crap what you look like. Ok, some do, but they need not worry, because Carhartts, flannel, bandanas, tie-dye, jeans...well, anything goes at any event or occasion.
We went to the Marlin the other night to hear some live bluegrass and it was so fun. The Marlin is known as a danky, hippy bar that smells like body odor and beer. Ahhh, home sweet bar. I danced (bluegrass style) with random people and kept telling Adam, who came straight from work and was wearing a dress shirt, to embrace the experience. A couple of times during the night people would cram in to the ridiculously over-crowded establishment and would spin on a heel and walk out. There was however, a old tourist couple that managed to brave the stench and drunks for a set or two, but the dolled-up, make-up wearing, trying-to-look-like-they-live-in-a-real-city girls didn't even make it to the bar for their vodka and ice teas. Poor little dears...
For me, the dankier the bar the better. The Golden Eagle, the Midnight Mine, the Boatel, The Comet Club, the Howling Dog, Ivory Jacks...they're all local holes and I love them.
I must admit, however, that I still cling to the hope that I look mildly cool. Like Nicole said, trying to look like you don't care. I mean, I don't really care...who am I trying to impress? Sam loves me and my stench...the more stinky, the better. He likes the hairy legs and bandanas, so who else matters? But I look for vintage T-shirts that fit just so, and I can't handle tapered pants (Carhartts are the exception) or bad sunglasses. Also on this week's AK radio show, a few locals in Juneau were sitting in a bar critiquing the tourists' outfits as they walked by the window. Funny, funny stuff. So, if you even venture north, beware. We're watching. And laughing. If you feel you must try to fit in, in Fairbanks at least, think lumberjack meets lesbian.
There are a whole different set of rules for Anchorage.
Peace.

Canadians!