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Entries in Las Vegas (3)


Don't wake me until September

Yes folks, summer is upon us.  And I’m living the nightmare dream.

Bikinis, cool drinks, BBQ’s, outdoor concerts, swimming pools, the ice cream truck, no school, and the yearly vacation in the trusty family truckster.  Wally World here we come!

That’s what summer means to a lot of people.

But for me?  Not so much.

Summer is to me like winter is to someone living in Minnesota.  I dread it every year, and I swear that it seems longer Every. Single. Year.  Maybe that is because of global warming.  Thanks a lot, all you hairspray abusers from the 80s out there. I’m melting and it’s because of you and your need for big hair.

Having lived in Las Vegas for almost nine years, one would think I would hate summer because of the 110+ temperatures from late May until early September.  Oh wait, that is why I hate summer!  However, I was never very fond of summer, even long before I moved to the desert.  I lived in Ohio before Vegas, and although the summer was not as long, it still kicked my ass with the heat and humidity. It really brought out the worst side of me. I was a grumpy bitch. I fretted and I mumbled. I was dripping sweat all the time. I even perspired while getting out of the shower.  It was not pretty, people. My apologies for any visuals you may have conjured up that you will never be able to un-see.  Consider it a gift.

Second only to the heat, mosquitos and creepy-crawly critters make me want to wrap myself up in a box and mail it to Alaska.  I’m not proud to be a squeamish fraidy-cat. However, “Damn the conservationists!  The world would do just fine with a lot less spiders and snakes.”  They are all just sneaky little spawn of Satan! 

My third reason for hating summer would be my poor hands.  All summer long, I get burned touching the car door handle. You’d think I would just stop that behavior, but it’s not easy.  I never seem to remember to bring along anything to put between my hands and that gaud-awful freakishly hot vehicle.  It’s just not right. The car industry needs to invent a cooling mechanism for said handles that can be remotely controlled or even triggered to immediately cool down after reaching a certain temperature.  I wonder if anyone has thought of that. I could invent it and go on Shark Tank and be mocked, humiliated and insulted by a panel of rich assholes.  What an adventure that would be!

But I digress, as I’ve been guilty of so many times in the past. Forgive me. I didn’t have my oatmeal this morning. You might want to keep your distance today.  I could blow any minute.

My fourth and final reason for hating summer is the dance I call The Thermostat Shuffle.  You may not be familiar with the name, but I’ll bet you’ve experienced the dance.  It requires two participants with opposing preferences for room temperature. The way it works is Dancer #1 does the sneaky slide over to the thermostat, hoping not to be noticed by Dancer #2. It is just too freaking cold in the room, and she has to make her move before morphing into a human Popsicle. She changes the thermostat setting with one smooth flick of the wrist, and then glides away, ever so graceful and pleased with herself.

Shortly thereafter, Dancer #2 begins fanning her face because of the sudden lack of coolness in the room. With stealth-like precision, she leaps from the couch, does a double-looped turn, and sashays on over to the thermostat like a sexy jewel-thief about to lift the Hope Diamond.  Yes, folks, she’s done this dance before.  She’s got skills.  She slides the thermostat needle silently upwards with a perfectly manicured fingernail. (Wouldn’t want to leave any fingerprints)  She is, after all, a professional.

As the room continues to cool, Dancer #1 takes notice and is mildly amused, knowing Dancer #2 is only flirting with her. It’s all about the dance, of course.  Dancer #1 decides a few more forceful moves might be in order.  So she boogies on over to Dancer #2, who is obviously enjoying her nice cool air, and shake–shake-shakes a finger in her partner’s face.

“It’s too Cold in here, honey”  says Dancer #1, with a sweet but determined tone.

“No No, it’s too Hot in here, honey” says her partner, turned adversary, turned pissed-off, turned determined to win, whatever she has to do.

“We’ll just see about that, HONEY” says Dancer #1, face getting red, pulse racing.

“Okay, bring it on, HONEY” retorts her beloved Dancer #2, matching her volume, neighbors-be-damned.

Dancer #2 rises from the couch to meet her partner, toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye, stubborn streak to stubborn streak.

Then, as if a gun had gone off to signify the start of a horse race, both dancers jumped the couch and sprinted to the thermostat. 

I get there first. Ha!

Oh wait, I forgot to tell you…I’m Dancer #2. 

I protect the thermostat setting with my life. I even gloat a little by dancing a little jig and humming a little tune.

My partner, Dancer #1, love of my life, just smiles.

I hate it when she does that.

She walks away, knowing full well what we both know.

She’ll be back when I’m not looking, damn it all.

And the dance will begin all over again.


So you’re probably wondering if there is anything at all I like about summer.  I sat down and gave it some thought.  I think better sitting down.  Especially with a glass of wine in my hand.  So I sat down and had a glass of wine while I searched my brain for something I might like about summer.  And then it hit me like a gallon jug of Boone’s Farm Tickled Pink!

In fact, I came up with two things!

Wine coolers. And watermelon. Watermelon Wine Coolers! 

Bring it, Summer!  I got this.






 *Images from Google Images


Monday Listicles - How a local spends a thousand bucks in Vegas



Happy Monday!  I’m linking up with the lovely Stasha over at The Good Life for Monday Listicles.  This week’s list is How to spend $1000.  Since I live in lovely, Lost Wages, Nevada, I thought I'd put a Vegas spin on this baby and show you how the home folks spend a thousand bucks.  For this assignment, I'm using a local celebrity, Gambler Gal.  You can see her in every locals casino in Vegas, working those machines and cocktails, and doing it in style.  So Gambler Gal, take it away! 


Gambler Gal starts out by driving over to her favorite locals’ casino, Green Valley Ranch.  As a local, she knows that she will be able to get the best bang for her bucks there.  “Bang” in a gambling way, not that other way.

We need to stay on topic here people.

Gambler Gal enters through the big doors into the beautiful casino, and heads straight back to the restrooms.  She makes sure to go to the restroom before she starts gambling because if she’s doing well on a certain machine, she sure doesn’t want to change her luck by having to go pee.

After the restroom, Gambler Gal stops by the bill changing machine and changes a twenty into smaller bills.  This is so she can give the lovely cocktail waitress a tip when she brings her Baileys and coffee and bottled water in the morning.  Or glass of merlot and bottled water in the afternoon.  Or margarita on the rocks and bottled water in the evening.  

Afterwards, Gambler Gal heads on over to her favorite bank of video poker machines.  They are called Optimum Video Poker machines and when played strategically, are supposed to yield a better return than the other machines.  The jury’s still out on that theory, though.  They are probably called “optimum” because of the amount of stress and anxiety they bring forth in any given session. 

Gambler Gal finds her perfect machine, sits down and makes herself comfortable, pulls out a hundred dollar bill and inserts it into the machine.  She takes out her ‘player’s card’ and also inserts it into the machine.  The player’s card is important.  If Gambler Girl gets just 954,000 points, she’ll be able to redeem them for the lamp shaped like the Las Vegas welcome sign.  Of course, she only earns about 100 points per session, so that lamp may have to wait a few years awhile.

Gambler Gal begins playing her favorite video poker game, Deuces Wild.  She begins at the quarter level, playing five quarters each game.  She plays fast, hitting the buttons at a lightening pace.  She’s a real pro and knows all the correct moves by heart.  Her reflexes are quick and her demeanor is calm and confident.  She’s in the zone…until the machine wants more money.  Five minutes into her session and our Gambler Gal has lost a hundred bucks. 

Pulse rate slightly elevated and a patch of sweat glistening on her forehead, Gambler Gal hurriedly fumbles through her purse for more money.  She retrieves another hundred dollar bill and inserts it into the machine.  This time she plays just as fast, but with a bit more determination.  Her competitive nature does not go unnoticed by her peers.  Oh yeah, people notice her stealth professionalism and the fact that her wig has shifted slightly in all the excitement, so that her bangs are now side-burns.  She doesn’t care though.  Our vintage  seasoned Gambler Gal can rock any look.

Another hundred down, Gambler Gal changes gears and moves on to her second-favorite game, Double Bonus Video Poker.  She knows if she hits something fairly quickly, she’ll be able to ride the ups and downs until she reaches victory.  Or in other words, the coveted prize of all prizes…The Royal Flush.   Gambler Gal blows through three more hundred dollar bills and now is down to her last four bills, she weighs her options carefully.  You can hear a pin drop in the room, which is quite a feat considering the floor is carpeted throughout.  Her fans are barely able to contain themselves.  What will the Great Gambler Gal do next?

Having broken her high heel on the toilet flushing mechanism in the restroom, trying to keep from touching germy things, Gambler Gal limps through the casino  in a frenzy, desperately searching for another bank of Optimum Video Poker machines.  She spots a bank approximately 20 yards down the left side, sheds her shoes and sprints.  She only has four, hundred dollar bills and twenty minutes until her husband locates her on his damned GPS, so she has to make every second count.

Dripping in sweat glowing with anticipation, Gambler Gal throws caution to the wind and shoves all four bills into her selected machine, slumps down into the chair and flips on the light so the cocktail waitress will find her. Losing money makes a  girl thirsty.  Gambler Gal once again chooses to play Deuces Wild, only this time at the dollar level.   She ain’t messing around; she’s on a mission.  Playing with the same consistent, fast strokes as before, she plods her way through the money, five bucks at a whack.  She’s down to her last twenty dollars, trembling like a wino without a drink, and yet not having lost all hope.  Suddenly she spies her damned husband a few rows of machines away, and he’s closing in on her fast. 

She has to make a play and make it now; otherwise she’s got a thousand dollars worth of explaining to do. 

Down to fifteen bucks and nothing.  He sees her and he waves.  She ignores him.

Down to ten bucks.  She almost had it that time.  Just needed the Queen of Spades.  Fuck.

Down to five bucks.  Husband stopped a couple machines away to speak to someone.  This buys Gambler Gal some time.  

One more chance.  One more pull. 

The cards appear across the screen. She’s afraid to look, but look she does.






All in Hearts.


Four thousand dollars.  The lights flash and the siren goes off. 

Husband shows up just in time.

Gambler Gal and husband embrace. 

The crowd goes wild.

The cashier brings her the money, counting it out in hundred dollar bills.

She gives the cashier a hundred for her trouble.

She gives Hubs a hundred so he’ll go away.

She sits down at the bar, adjusts her wig, wipes the sweat from her brow, and says, “This is Vegas baby, and that’s the way we spend a thousand bucks!”



WTFriday? Hot and Bothered

May in Las Vegas is supposed to bring forth gloriously warm weather with light breezes that tickle one’s fancy and leave one with dreams of tropical getaways.   Not May of 2012.  This month has brought record high temps and an unwelcomed preview of the months to come. 

Anyone have some cheese because I feel a whine coming on?  Stay if you are suited-up with armor for such rants; else you might want to make your exit quickly.  And quietly please. We don’t want to disturb the others’ power naps.  

LIL Sis, is that you snoring?  WAKE UP.  I can’t do this alone.  I’m weak from the heat and tired from the fucking 30 and 40 mph wind gusts. Ever try walking against those types of gusts?  And I’m not exactly built to foster wind-worthy dynamics.  Imagine if you will, an elephant trying to pee in a thimble. 

Yea it’s like that.  Only without the pee.

I forget where I was going with that analogy.  So sue me.

WTFriday?  It’s the heat, I tell ya.

I don’t even want to think about the next power bill.  I may have to sell my body once again. 

Bwwwahhhhh.  What? 

It could happen.

Somebody out there lusts for will settle for my tired broke ass sexy senior stuff.  Don’t knock me until you’ve tried me. 

But I digress.   I felt like it was about time to interject that old reliable phrase.  It’s a lot like me, overused and under-appreciated.

If you’re feeling nauseous, just tilt your head back, apply a cool wash cloth, and think about cute little teddy bears or mountains of chocolate.  That doesn’t do it for me but I’m stretching to be nice here.


It’s the heat, I tell you.

It makes me think bad things.  Naughty things.  Unthinkable things.  Like vagina.  And Jennifer Lopez.  Notice I didn’t really put those two in the same sentence…vagina and JLo?  I thought that might be inappropriate.  Just because I may have been thinking about the two together.  Still, I’m nothing if not cognizant of my reading audience.  And fair.

So George Clooney.  And penis.  How’s that?  Again being respectful enough to separate the two by a period.

You see?  I told you I was fair.  Now everyone’s happy and I can go on with my fucking heat stroke.

The previous few paragraphs have absolutely no redeeming value, and yet I still have a reason to post. 


Because I’m in hell and I need the company. 

Thanks for taking this journey with me.  If you should desire to have further proof of my Hell, then turn on your oven, and stick your head in for a few seconds, until you build up a good sweat.  Then turn your blow dryer on high and point directly into your face for another few seconds.  After that, relax and enjoy those hallucinations.  If they don’t come right away, repeat the above process.  Have patience.  You will soon imagine freaky and wondrous things.

It was good for me.  Was it good for you?



Images from Google Images