Daniel and Richard are on the left, you just can't see them.

So, I live in Las Vegas now. Here I am, a dyed-in-the-wool California girl in the desert… if California girls wore wool. I’m sitting on my familiar couch, typing on my familiar laptop, watching my familiar TV in a totally unfamiliar house and a mostly unfamiliar city.  We dropped Daniel and Richard off at the airport a couple hours ago, Mike just left for work and it’s just me n’ the bun, getting to know this place.


Some things I’ve discovered thus far, in a handy unordered list:

• Drink a lot of water because man, it’s dry.
• This is a lot more house than I remembered and  despite my griping about how much stuff I have, it’s not enough to fill two-thirds of this place.
• Lupo by Wolfgang Puck at Mandalay stops serving at 10pm and one of the hostesses is a snatch.
• Liquidity at Luxor makes a really good martini… after you send back the first one and your waitress rolls her eyes at you.
• I can see the snow capped mountains from my office.
• There is a beautiful view of downtown, the Stratosphere and a bit of the Strip from the master bedroom.
• Lulu was calmer during the move than I was.
• If you live in a certain lovely gated community in San Diego, don’t park your UHaul on the street, even with a parking pass.  You’ll get towed and have to pay $228 to get it out all the while freaking out that your stuff has been stolen out of the back. But you can’t park outside the main neighborhood either because that’s  violating some other rule, so I guess they expect you to levitate your truck a mile above the earth until you’re ready to leave. Bollocks and a half.
• No one makes king-size fitted sheets, only Cal-King. I love you, California, you are my home state, but the whole world doesn’t revolve around your bed size.  Let’s pick one, shall we?  Twin. Full. Queen. KING. Just the one. Cripes.
• It takes three men and a handful of martinis to put together a king-size IKEA bedframe.
• My best gays are truly the best, all around. They drove the moving truck, they bought me vodka, they tolerated my crazy and still love me. And they didn’t even mind that I made them use mismatched towels.
• Don’t listen to virtual strangers when they tell you should look out for scorpions because apparently, this is not a problem. I was also told to wear shoes in the house, just in case I stepped on one, which had me in a tizzy and freaking out for Lulu’s safety and our own. Turns out, there are people who have lived here their entire lives and never seen one, let alone in the house. So that guy can suck it and pay for my therapy.
• There are strippers, minus the strip, that dance around in the middle of the casino floor in the Luxor.
• Speaking of strippers, Little Darlings off the 15 has actual footage of their (still clothed) strippers dancing on a massive screen. It’s no wonder there’s traffic congestion.
• Thanks to the Internet, what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay here.  Girl, please. They really need to retire that campaign.

That’s all for now. I have a few photos and when the house is presentable and doesn’t look like the Trash Heap from Fraggle Rock, I’ll post a little tour.  Now I have to go find what box I put the thing in that allows me to do something that is probably in another box that doesn’t contain what I need. In the garage.  Next to an alleged scorpion.

The line at this Rite Aid is always slow and for some reason, people always form one big line instead of lining up at each register (there are eight registers), then the next checker that is available takes the next customer.  Well, last night, there was an Asian dude in front of us holding two bottles of wine, a crotchety guy in a yellow shirt holding a box of Tucks or something, this Isaac Hayes (R.I.P.)-type guy (who we saw tip his hat at someone earlier — I love that), and then 3 registers with customers already being helped.

One cashier finished and called out, “I’ll take the next person!” and Crotchety Yellow Shirt and his hemorrhoid pads tried to dash out behind Isaac Hayes Guy, but Isaac Hayes Guy was no fool and he cut Crotchety off, taking his rightful place at the counter.  Crotchety grumbled and griped, but shuffled back into line, ahead of the Asian Wine Drinker.  While this was going on, a strapping middle-aged, tank-top wearing homosexual (not that his sexuality is relevant, but it paints a picture and I happened to be in the gayborhood) with a cart full of ammonia bottles and paper towels pulls up in line behind us.

Asian Wine Drinker keeps looking around the store, turning around and looking past us, past Ammonia Mo, all over the place. But before I could ponder what he was looking for, Isaac Hayes Guy was finishing his transaction.

This is where I kind of lost my cool.

One of my biggest pet peeves in this world is people who “cut”.  I hate when I’m stuck behind someone in traffic with my signal blinking, desperate to find an opening in the next lane so I can dash out and pass the slowpoke in front of me.  That’s bad enough, but what really chafes is the jerk immediately behind you that takes your window of opportunity, leaving you in the dust.  The same principle applies to queuing at the store.

As soon as the cashier called the next person, Ammonia Mo without any regard for common decency, maneuvered his cart out of the line and darted over to the open cashier while the rest of us stood there with untreated butt issues, unopened wine, and melting ice cream.

My mouth fell open. I loudly said to mikey and Asian Wine Guy, “Oh, I’m sorry!  Were you first?  I didn’t notice you…” I continued to bitch loud enough for the guy to hear me.  But he didn’t care. That’s the part that just blows me away.  Yes, it’s rude to cut in line, but at least act like you feel bad about it.  At least Crotchety Yellow Shirt grudgingly went back into line.  I mean, you don’t even care that people in line think you’re a complete and utter douchebag?  He just kept loading his bottles of ammonia up on the counter, looking stoically straight ahead.  He knew he was a jerk, but he. didn’t. care.  I realize that I, like many humans, care too much what people think on occasion, but this is ridiculous.  This is an affront on common courtesy, on societal decency… and frankly, it’s just plain dick.

Once a few years ago, I scolded at a guy in a home improvement store because we’d all been waiting an aeon in a line and a guy walked up to the line just as a new register was being opened.  And then there was the time I shamed Diaper Debbie in front a whole Sprint store.  I am beyond over this kind of rudeness and I’m not afraid to call someone out on their assholery.

I was about to do just that (much to mike’s chagrin, I’m sure), but before I could, Ammonia Mo started loading his stuff back in his cart.  I thought that for once the establishment was going to act on behalf of it’s customers and tell the guy to wait his turn, but no… he’d forgotten his wallet.  Just desserts, I guess.

My parents, even in the short time I had with them, instilled me with manners, respect for others, understanding that the whole world doesn’t revolve around me (despite what I thought when I was 15) and the knowledge that there are just some things that you don’t do.  It’s just a given.  I can’t believe I saw this kind of rudeness twice in one night, in one line within a matter of minutes!  What the hell is wrong with people?

mikey, GFI and I got there before it opened and spent the majority of the time sifting through the assorted crap vendors in Bing Crosby Hall and the like. We stopped for cupcakes at a super cute booth that was decorated in pink and black and white with lime green accents and curly font. It looked like a website I did for a client once… only life-size.  A little surreal, but the cupcakes were good!  Three mini cupcakes in red velvet with cream cheese icing, chocolate on chocolate and vanilla cake with chocolate icing for $5.  It worked out perfectly; we each got a bite of every flavor. 

We got our handwriting analyzed because we had a sudden urge to piss away $3. The Fair does that. It’s like a state of fugue or something. One minute, you’re perfectly rational, bypassing the loud guy selling chamois, the mood-lipstick mistress, the uber-butch hocking cheese graters and then, without warning, “Let’s get our handwriting analyzed! It’s only $3!” And the next thing you know, you’ve corrupted your whole party.

Our priority stop was GFI’s temporary goal in life:  deep fried macaroni and cheese on a stick.  I was a little skeptical at first, but I definitely had to try it.  I kept saying, “It sounds good in theory…” but no, it was pretty good.  A little bland, as far as a mac n’ cheese goes, but overall pretty much like you’d suspect — a ball of breaded and fried mac n’ cheese.  I made a beeline for the grilled corn on the cob guy and then we all hit the beer garden for an adult beverage.  Sure, it was 10am, but who was keeping track really…?

My Fair highlight was the talent from Doggies of the Wild West.  We didn’t actually catch the show, but we ran into Gary Noel and his wagon o’ western cuteness at the entrance.  I was totally insane for his dogs, snapping photos like crazy.  All rescues, he had a bunch of chihuahuas, a couple mutts, a beagle mix, and an adorable Boston Terrier I got to hold and love on.  He also let me take photos while his dogs did tricks like one-pawed handstands!  Yes, I was impressed. 

We wrapped up the Fair with frozen confections, mikey with his chocolate dipped soft serve while GFI and I shared a frozen banana. I can’t go to the Fair and not have a frozen banana. It’s like sacrilege. But seriously, where do they grow these bananas? They’re enormous, giant, mammoth, Holmes-esque bananas!  Seriously, they must be imported, equatorial bananas.  Or like super genetically-altered bananas engineered by carnies.  Between the two of us, we could only finish half… and the nuts kept falling down my top.

Anyway, we did the crap vendors, the livestock, the gastrocities and we were in and out in about three and a half hours.  Now that’s efficient fun right there!  I’ll have more photos up over the next few days. I only took 484 (with an inordinate amount of chicken shots, I might add) so that shouldn’t take any time at all to sift through. 

In the evening, I took some shots of the fireworks off my front porch and upstairs on the terrace.  I didn’t use a tripod, so out of about 128 shots only a few were clear, but I like how they came out.  It’s my last hurrah with my Nikon D80, as the Picture This project has ended and I’ve decided not to purchase it.  It’s a great camera, but it’s more cumbersome and a bit more camera than I really need.  I’ll be looking at smaller Nikons or maybe a Canon.  I’m not sure, but it was really great to participate in the program. I learned a lot about my own eye for photography.

This month is super busy while I prepare for Kathy’s visit in August and some time off that has been postponed until September.  I may slack a bit, but I know you’ll forgive me because we’re cool like that.  I do have a redesign of the blog coming soon, though.  Finally. 

I hope everyone had a great holiday!