Nichole D.
Albuquerque, New Mexico

I currently live in New Mexico with my boyfriend and beautiful daughter in The Retro Palace. I'm currently a student double-majoring in Cosmetology and Architectural Drafting. I spend what little free time I have knitting, crocheting, sewing, and almost any other project I have time for. I do occasionally eat and shower, but only if there is no knitting to be done.

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Saturday, November 10, 2007

No Hookers!

The Hubbster is an avid amateur photographer, with some really great photos. (Seriously- go check out his photo blog-shameless plug.) Often, he will take photos while we are out doing things. Last summer was no exception. We were driving around on one of our "adventures", and stopped at a gas station in the southeast part of Albuquerque. The Hubbster went in to get some refreshments, and I happened to notice a woman who seemed to be hanging around, talking to a few people, and spending an odd amount of time behind the nearby dumpster. I mentioned it to Hubbster when he returned, and he concurred that the woman was, in all likelihood, a hooker. I nodded, and started to pull out of the parking lot.

Waiting for a chance to turn onto the main road, James decided to snap this picture:


Well, said hooker took notice. She was definitely not pleased about it, and said a few things that should most likely not be repeated here. I pulled out as soon as I could, but not before she had a chance to throw her Big Gulp at the back of our car (yes, she hit it). Driving away, we noticed her get into a car behind us, and start following. Not just any car, folks- a metallic cherry red Oldsmobile, sittin' on some rims.

"Great," I said to the Hubbster, "now her and her pimp are chasing us down."

Long story short, we escaped rather easily, with not many worries about the incident. You might be surprised to know that this is not Hubbster's first incident with angry hookers- another he took a picture of threw a shoe at him. So, you may understand my concern.

With his penchant to go out late at night and take pictures, I worried this would be a issue once again, and wanted him to stay out of trouble. This resulted in me telling him, "No hookers!" every time he left on a late-night photo shoot. Naturally, this progressed into something I tell him every time he leaves the apartment. Which, of course, caught on in the house, and now he tells me "no hookers" almost every time I leave, as well. The only exception I get is the crocheters (called hookers in the most endearing way, of course) in my weekly Stitch n' Bitch. He gets absolutely no exceptions.

See you tomorrow!

P.S. To see another photo, go here.

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