Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Iraqi Shoe Thrower got a monument in his honor today in Tikrit. I find it slightly interesting that were it not for "George W. Bush's War" this journalist would have never had the freedom to show such disrespect to another individual in public. While this journalist isn't exactly "in the clear" in terms of punishment, he's being hailed as a bit of a hero among Iraqi's.
Meanwhile, our heroes have a suicide rate that is at a 30-year high. News Flash: These men and women do not have an easy job. Yet they do it anyway.
Speaking of suicide, apparently it's all the rage these days among the unemployed and even those who just recently got their jobs back. I understand that times are tough and families feel like they are at the end of their rope however I'm really having a hard time with this. Maybe it's because my own family has lived through some very dark financial days, but that's just it - we lived through them. We made it. It wasn't easy, but good grief, we had each other which is worth more than anything else on this earth.
And just when you think that things can't possibly get any worse, it has been reported that Jessica Simpson is getting fat. At least things are looking up for some folks. (sorry...I was becoming far too much of a Debbie Downer...I had to lighten up just a bit)
Times are tough. Obviously. It's getting crazier. Obviously. It could get much worse. Realistically. I could say things like "time ain't gonna' stand much longer" and all of those other Doomsday type predictions, but would that really be helping the situation any? Nope - not one little bit. So I'm just going to be thankful for what I have. And try to be patient with others as I don't know what they are experiencing right now. And pray. We've got to just to make it today.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday evening we went to see my long-lost brother over at the Luxor...
While there, we rubbed elbows with a famous rockstar... Ok, we didn't really rub elbows, but we did sit on the same row that he and his posse did. That's got to mean something, right? If any of my three readers out there can correctly identify said famous rockstar above, then I'll send you a prize.
Bad news about that chandelier. I just love walking through all of the casinos and seeing the details that are put into each one...
They are so big and ornate. Well, except for this casino...
Yes, it's got big and ornate too, but nothing that I am willing to feature on my PG rated blog. Let's just say that "PH" should stand for "promiscuous hot-little-numbers". It wasn't all bad there. But more about that in a moment.
Ok, Ok...the real reason why I went to Vegas was to show my support for Jim when he was crowned...
Don't even get me started on the fact that A.C. Slater was in the same town that I was on Saturday night. It's too much for me to handle. But probably not as much as it was for Jim to know that there were 51 (um...don't forget Miss District of Columbia) beauty pageant queens in the same town as he was.
Early Saturday evening, we went back to the Venetian to see Phantom. Loved it. Loved it. Loved it. It's Vegas' take on Phantom of the Opera and to me it was just as good as the full musical. Have I mentioned that I'm a sucker for musicals? After Phantom was over, we headed North on the Deuce to "Old Vegas". Otherwise known as Fremont Street.
It was here that we got to see a "musical" that was probably a little more Jim's style. A tribute to KISS. We had to wait awhile for the tribute, but there was plenty of entertainment on Fremont Street to keep us occupied...
After Sassy Granny stopped dancing, I felt like trying my luck again at the slots (Because apparently losing 5 dollars just wasn't enough for me). We were standing outside between the Four Queens and the Fremont Casino and were debating about which one to go play. Jim asked "Which is more Vegas?". I shrugged my shoulders in typical "I dunno" fashion and headed right towards the Fremont.
So as the attendant is collecting all my information to ensure that Uncle Sam gets his payday, she asked me if I would like a t-shirt. To which I replied "How much does it cost?". It still makes me laugh to think I asked that question. Luckily for me it was free!
After the grand finale of Rock-N-Roll All Night, we headed back to the Stratosphere to watch old people beg for oxygen at the closed Oxygen Bar.
Can someone please explain to me what an oxygen bar is? Is it to restore lung health for all us non-smokers as we walk through the casinos? My inquiring mind wants to know. Just when you thought I could not have another word to say about Vegas, you're wrong. We spent most of the day on Sunday in Planet Hookerwood. Because now that I'm a high roller with money to burn, it's only natural for me to invest in some property on the Vegas Strip. Not really. But for letting them try to sell us something, we got free credits to play slots with. It was the easiest $43.25 I've ever earned. We had more time to kill in the area because our dinner (at one of those amazing and great Brazilian steakhouses where they bring out all of the different meats on big skewers...yes, I realize I sound like a growing 17 year-old boy as I type this) and show were both at Planet Hollywood on Sunday night. While we waited, we braved the elements (low 50's...I quickly forgot that I left 30 degree temperatures in Georgia) to watch a couple of fountain shows at the Belagio. I love fountain shows. I'm easily amused. Which means that watching Mesmerized was right up my alley! It was a hypnotist show which totally took me back to my college days when ol' Tom DeLuca would come to North Georgia. But this character was much much better. It was so funny. (see last sentence in previous paragraph)
Now I'm home and it's back to reality. I'll be at the bank if you need me.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Don't try this at home, kids! Way back in the day, I went with my friend Audrey to Steamboat Springs and this is at a buffalo ranch. Duh. Her family knows the family who works the ranch so we went out one evening for a rip-roaring good time of dominoes and spaghetti with (buffalo) meatballs. The buffalo in the picture is AnnaBelle and of course she has a story. She was a twin and apparently it's rare to have buffalo twins. Turns out, AnnaBelle was the runt so mama buffalo devoted her time to the healthier one, (it's nature people, no tears please) which means that AnnaBelle wouldn't have made it were it not for Roy the Rancher. He bottle fed her and raised her from a baby to a grown up. What are baby buffaloes called? Well, she was actually only a couple of years old in this picture. She grazes in the pasture with the other buffaloes, but all Roy has to do is whistle and call for her and she comes running over to the fence. I considered informing her that she isn't a dog but thought better of it when my fingers were at the mercy of her ginormous teeth.
So, I'm tagging the following folks to play along: Suzanna because I can't remember what she or Caroline looks like, Angel because with 3 baby girls she's got to have some good pictures, Donna because she said it herself that she has reached a blogging low in the lack of pictures, Jenny because maybe just maybe her 5th folder is her cake decorating folder and I can live vicariously through her mad icing skills, and Michele because she like myself has always got her camera ready.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Today was the presidential inauguration. And that means a new day has come. Regardless of who is elected into office, I do enjoy watching all the hoorah of the day in Washington. I just love watching the politics of politics...all the hand-shaking and cheek-kissing between the people who drag each other's names through the mud the other 364 days of the year. Of course I had flashbacks to the 8th grade when Clinton was inaugurated which kind of made me want to curl up into the fetal position and rock back and forth, but the part that stands out the most to me was sitting in Algebra class while Maya Angelou read some sort of forever long poem that she had written for the day. But today's not about 1993. Thank goodness for that because that would mean that I have years of bad hair to endure and I barely made it through the first time. It turns out that Obama and I have more in common than I thought. He has a daughter named Malia and my middle name is Melia. Different spellings but same pronunciations. And we (he and I) are both left-handed. I'm sure that once he learns of these commonalities between us, I'll receive an invitation to a fancy state dinner. I should probably start shopping for my dress now.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Obviously the latter happened or else my hands would have never encountered the abuse that is evident from this picture. I'll take dishpan hands any day over this business. Oh, for any of you skeptics out there I'm happy to report that my car now has two working headlights. For now anyway.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Watching The Bachelor will result in loss of brain cells.
Watching The Bachelor will result in a terribly skewed perception of reality.
Participating in The Bachelor will result in mental instability with side effects including but not limited to hysteria.
By participating in The Bachelor you put yourself at risk of injury from excessive cat-fighting.
Did anyone else watch this? Is anyone else as appalled by such behavior as I am? Do these people seriously think that they are going to form a meaningful and lasting relationship all the while people sit at home on their sofas and soak this stuff up like it's the sun? Here are my thoughts:
To me, watching the introductions is like watching a bad Rush (Recruitment these days) party. There are all of these dolled up young women DYING to make a good impression and they do ridiculous stuff in the process. Like the time back in college when a girl (who shall remain nameless because I don't want her to beat me up) showed up on the first night of Rush wearing a green shirt, green skirt and green tights.
Ok, so it's all great that he's a single dad and he's doing such an honorable thing by raising his son. But does he really want his son to run across the old DVD's of Daddy's Bachelor episodes one day and learn it was during this period of time when Daddy contracted a venereal disease?
Speaking of single parents...what about the single mothers who left their children at home so they could fly across the country to proclaim their hopeless dedication and devotion to this family man? Am I the only one who finds this puzzling?
And the girl who left her job as a school teacher???? Really?
Personally I think it's always very classy when a girl gets so sloshed on cheap wine the first night that she spills her guts within range of the 5,000 microphones placed strategically throughout the room.
Call me old-fashioned. Call me jaded. But this doesn't work. Sure, Trista and Ryan are doing just great, but while money doesn't buy happiness, it sure can't hurt. Yes, call me jaded.