things i didn't think i'd miss so much
rain
bugs
squirrels
Vitales' pizza
random Sunday cookouts
The Barrel (tipping back in a rickety chair, crushing peanut shells, that first sip of a long-awaited long island)
my brother's cartoon-watchin' laugh
people who appreciate the words pop, basement and Meijers
days that start at 10:20 a.m.
my Gma
things i now appreciate
the 'take-your-life-into-your-own-hands' U-turn
perfecting the homemade mojito
my nalgene
night-shift, east-coast chatters
raiding others' Google Readers subscriptions
no humidity
the cat
Sunday, June 29, 2008
How did we solve our problems without her?
This is the face of a modern-day poet, a soccer mom's prophet, a radio star.This is Delilah.
As much as her advice is baseless and her song choices never fit that situation, you have to love her. She is embodies easy listening. I mean who hasn't driven home, no matter where you are in the world, and felt comforted when you heard the soft "Del-eye-lah" caress the airwaves? It's like the great common denominator in a complicated world.
Well, I was driving home tonight and I may or may have not been enjoying another velvet voice, Josh Groban (don't judge), when the Divine Ms. D came on after him. Before I clicked to the next station, I decided I wanted to see attach a face to voice.
So I Googled her and found THIS.
Omigod.
This Web site has it all, bad poetry, bad musical selections, bad sound bites, bad graphics, bad bios, etc. It's so bad, it's good. The only thing that could make this better would be to see photos of Delilah's listeners. Every single one of the "I've had some bad times," all of the "he's such a great daddy and I just want a crappy love ballad he'll never hear to play for him," and each "I'm just so proud of my ____ in Iraq..." I want it bad enough I just may have to call in.
Tourist of the Week
Sin City tourists are a dime a dozen and I'm about to cash in.
If we could only read the contents of that text message.
If we could only read the contents of that text message.
Monday, June 23, 2008
So I guess these Dunkaroos will do nothing for you?
In an unscientific poll taken while I was babysitting, I got a taste for what Nevada kids like.
"So, what are your favorite foods?"
Will, 5: "Hotdogs, asparagus, sushi"
Gabriella, 3: "Salmon, artichokes, French toast."
"So, what are your favorite foods?"
Will, 5: "Hotdogs, asparagus, sushi"
Gabriella, 3: "Salmon, artichokes, French toast."
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The fifth anniversary party of Vegas Magazine at The Palazzo, June 21, 2008
The red carpet
The greeters
The eye candy
The food
The dare (they bet him $800 to casually walk through the Palazzo pool, he did it and continued to party)
The view of the Strip
The highlight
Other notes
The martini dancer left a Hansel & Gretal-esque trail everywhere during her break
The music was so good, everyone lost their minds when "Don't stop believin'" came on. Universal language of Journey.
The red carpet
The greeters
The eye candy
The food
The dare (they bet him $800 to casually walk through the Palazzo pool, he did it and continued to party)
The view of the Strip
The highlight
Other notes
The martini dancer left a Hansel & Gretal-esque trail everywhere during her break
The music was so good, everyone lost their minds when "Don't stop believin'" came on. Universal language of Journey.
I bow to eyebrow threading
To any male readers, this post may bore you to tears. I won't take offense if you stop reading.
To my female readers, this post will change your facial hair removal routine and end your tears. I'll accept thanks later.
On Saturday, I decided I needed to address my eyebrow situation. I'm a big fan of "tidy" facial hair on myself and others, but I get frustrated easily when dealing with my eyebrows. I can ensure I don't have a unibrow painlessly but when I move on to pluck a scultped brow, I usually wince in pain, cuss and tear up. This doesn't last though, because I give up and figure I'll cover my left eyebrow with my side-bang.
I don't mind waxing, although it hurts like a mofo, but I don't know of a legit place to get it done here. So Saturday, I thought I would try eyebrow threading, an Indian method of hair removal in which a twisted piece of thread "pinches" about five or six hairs out a time. I did a little research and went across town to a reknown threading salon.
Now, the name of the place, Eyebrows R Us, was a big of a turnoff. However, their reputation and $7 charge were a big turn on. If I really hated it, I wasn't wasting money.
I had to wait forever. The waiting room was packed with all kinds of people, including this cranky Gremlin of a woman with a knee brace and scrunchy, and the only reading material was a business review from India and The Bible.
When I finally got my turn, the petite woman sat me down and didn't say much as she wiped oil away from my brows with a cotton ball and started wrapping a red string around her fingers. I had to hold the skin around my eyebrow taught as she got to work. Her movements were so fluid and calculated. With this wrist snaps, she pinched full rows of hair out. The pain was so minimal that I asked if she would get my upper lip, heck it was only $4 more.
The procedure lasted 6 minutes, tops, and it was worth every penny. I am reformed.
My before and after pictures are pretty botched but rest assured the man eyebrows that so strongly run in my mom's side of the family were tamed. Here is a video demonstration, this may not be an Indian woman but her British accent is just delightful.
Here is my threading plug (pun!), find a threader in your area. You won't be sorry.
To my female readers, this post will change your facial hair removal routine and end your tears. I'll accept thanks later.
On Saturday, I decided I needed to address my eyebrow situation. I'm a big fan of "tidy" facial hair on myself and others, but I get frustrated easily when dealing with my eyebrows. I can ensure I don't have a unibrow painlessly but when I move on to pluck a scultped brow, I usually wince in pain, cuss and tear up. This doesn't last though, because I give up and figure I'll cover my left eyebrow with my side-bang.
I don't mind waxing, although it hurts like a mofo, but I don't know of a legit place to get it done here. So Saturday, I thought I would try eyebrow threading, an Indian method of hair removal in which a twisted piece of thread "pinches" about five or six hairs out a time. I did a little research and went across town to a reknown threading salon.
Now, the name of the place, Eyebrows R Us, was a big of a turnoff. However, their reputation and $7 charge were a big turn on. If I really hated it, I wasn't wasting money.
I had to wait forever. The waiting room was packed with all kinds of people, including this cranky Gremlin of a woman with a knee brace and scrunchy, and the only reading material was a business review from India and The Bible.
When I finally got my turn, the petite woman sat me down and didn't say much as she wiped oil away from my brows with a cotton ball and started wrapping a red string around her fingers. I had to hold the skin around my eyebrow taught as she got to work. Her movements were so fluid and calculated. With this wrist snaps, she pinched full rows of hair out. The pain was so minimal that I asked if she would get my upper lip, heck it was only $4 more.
The procedure lasted 6 minutes, tops, and it was worth every penny. I am reformed.
My before and after pictures are pretty botched but rest assured the man eyebrows that so strongly run in my mom's side of the family were tamed. Here is a video demonstration, this may not be an Indian woman but her British accent is just delightful.
Here is my threading plug (pun!), find a threader in your area. You won't be sorry.
Fierce
These are the golden gates.
They represent more than 1970s decorating vision of two German illusionists.
They represent Las Vegas royalty, fantasy versus reality and mastery of the impossible.
They represent the elaborate compound that is Siegfried and Roy’s home.
To me, they represent an event that would give me the single best clip one could want from a Las Vegas internship.
The set up was simple, the duo was slated to introduce five tiger cubs. To my editors, it screamed intern assignment. Fine by me.
The journey to the assignment was stressful and downright infuriating, my directions were wrong and my gas tank was more than flirting with “empty.” I dialed all my trusted computer-bound TSN friends to no avail while I scouted around for a gas station, all of this with 10 minutes until the event was to start.
I couldn’t think of what would be worse, being lost and late to Siegfried and Roy’s house or running out of gas en route. I soldiered on, rationalizing that if I just found the place, I could probably just ride a tiger home or something.
When I got inside, I was ushered to a courtyard area with about a dozen photogs, reporters and S&R staffers. As I struggled to take in the bronze tiger statues, gazebos and somewhat tacky architecture, Robin Leach, former host of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, sauntered past me. WTF?
I gathered he is more than a local celebrity, he plays blogger/journalist, too, who failed to park his sportscar correctly. I like to think he planned to drive a Jaguar to a tiger event.
After many delays, which I pegged up to the strategic placement of the still-recovering Roy, they moved us on to the lawn and corralled us behind blue velvet ropes.
There they were, pop culture icons and modern-day David Lee Roth look alikes, trying to look natural on a couch in the middle of their yard as five tiger cubs crawled around them. As the photographers frantically snapped photos, I followed suit with my digital camera.
When the hubbub quieted, Siegfried wandered over to the notebook-armed members of the crowd. In a strange twist, that was just myself, a nice gent from AP and (drum roll please) Robin Leach. Surprisingly, it was one of my more natural interviews. I had no qualms about asking whether the cubs had definable personalities or who their baby daddies are. What is my life?
It lasted about an hour and it broke my heart to watch Roy move awkwardly and struggle to whisper words. A tiger mauled him, an animal literally grabbed him by the jugular, on stage five years ago and he is still inching toward even slight recovery. We were a good 10 feet away from him and you can clearly see long scars and the palsy on his right side. I didn’t have the heart to shamefully ask for a photo with the duo as Siegfried and a nurse helped Roy limp away.
I mean, imagine what that photo would represent? The day was bizarre enough.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Blog by blogwest
I blame my blog launch delay on the time lag. Forgive me, futurrists.
Anyway, there was really no way I could have prepared myself for life here.
In short, Vegas is the same and different as anything one can be accustomed to.
The energy on The Strip is overwhelming and electric. The laissez-faire attitudes about things like marriage, divorce, gambling and prostitution baffle me, but I’m not really participating in those things so whatever. Just as outrageous as the people are and as amplified as the general perspective is, Vegas is also just a normal city. Well, the UPS guys are a little bit tanner under those sweet uniforms, I guess.
I will chronicle my escapades in future posts but I just wanted to get everyone up to speed.
My mom and I flew out on May 31, dropped my three suitcases off in my new home and bought a car same day. It’s white (white hot!) and, undoubtedly, deal breakers included gas mileage, reliability and strength in air conditioning. Windshield shade sold separately.
The sunshine is omnipresent and changeless. What we lack in rain, we make up for in dust storms and wind. In addition to high quality deodorant, I stocked up on dermatologist strength sun block. It’s pretty clear that my translucent skin begs for this attention to detail. If all goes to plan, I will hopefully dodge skin cancer and maintain my near albinism. Pale fingers crossed.
Managing the heat, on the other hand, is more complicated. We’re getting into the triple digit temperatures and stepping outside feels like a very heavy parka is placed on your shoulders. Sometimes it even makes you have to catch your breath. There is always a moment some time between walking out the front door and waiting for the air conditioning in the car to kick in that I want to turn around and go lie on the cold tile floor. If humidity were a factor, it would be over.
Every move revolves around water — bringing, seeking and then drinking lots of it. I traded five GREAT lakes for this?
No, I traded them for THIS. Breathtaking.
(Fun fact: Nevada holds the title of most mountainous state. Anywhere you are in the state, you can see a mountain around you. This could be a total lie but I buy it)
Anyway, there was really no way I could have prepared myself for life here.
In short, Vegas is the same and different as anything one can be accustomed to.
The energy on The Strip is overwhelming and electric. The laissez-faire attitudes about things like marriage, divorce, gambling and prostitution baffle me, but I’m not really participating in those things so whatever. Just as outrageous as the people are and as amplified as the general perspective is, Vegas is also just a normal city. Well, the UPS guys are a little bit tanner under those sweet uniforms, I guess.
I will chronicle my escapades in future posts but I just wanted to get everyone up to speed.
My mom and I flew out on May 31, dropped my three suitcases off in my new home and bought a car same day. It’s white (white hot!) and, undoubtedly, deal breakers included gas mileage, reliability and strength in air conditioning. Windshield shade sold separately.
The sunshine is omnipresent and changeless. What we lack in rain, we make up for in dust storms and wind. In addition to high quality deodorant, I stocked up on dermatologist strength sun block. It’s pretty clear that my translucent skin begs for this attention to detail. If all goes to plan, I will hopefully dodge skin cancer and maintain my near albinism. Pale fingers crossed.
Managing the heat, on the other hand, is more complicated. We’re getting into the triple digit temperatures and stepping outside feels like a very heavy parka is placed on your shoulders. Sometimes it even makes you have to catch your breath. There is always a moment some time between walking out the front door and waiting for the air conditioning in the car to kick in that I want to turn around and go lie on the cold tile floor. If humidity were a factor, it would be over.
Every move revolves around water — bringing, seeking and then drinking lots of it. I traded five GREAT lakes for this?
No, I traded them for THIS. Breathtaking.
(Fun fact: Nevada holds the title of most mountainous state. Anywhere you are in the state, you can see a mountain around you. This could be a total lie but I buy it)
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