Excursion to Vegas Jr.

Anyone who has been to downtown Reno knows not to have high expectations. It's Reno. You will not see a roller coaster, mini Eiffel Tower, or even people on the street with cards advertising cheap hookers (*excuse me, naked escorts). You will, however, get the cheap buffets, bright lights that keep you up when you don't close the blinds to your room, and panhandlers. So I go with my low expectations. In fact the last time I was there, I had such low expectations, that I had a freaking fantastic time. Sadly, that great time raised my expectations and my most recent outing resulted in some disappointments.

For starters, I had to pay for my room. How dare you. I haven't had to pay for a room the last five times I've been there. I know, I sound like an idiot. But in Reno, I get a small taste of the celebrity lifestyle where they hand you free stuff left and right. Free room, slot play, dinning credits. I got used to it. On this trip, the well was dry and I became a miser.

Don't get me wrong. I took out more money than I should have and lost more than I care to admit, but I considered it to be my last hurrah(interestingly enough at Harrahs). I bought a house, so I would be in miser mode for the next thirty years, or when I gained a second income.

So on my last gaming adventure, what did I do? I spent hours in the Circus Circus carnival area obsessed with winning stuffed gorillas. Yeah, I had a fight with my boyfriend. I really, really, really wanted to win them. They were at this fishing game where you have a magnet attached to a pole and you had to fish out the red disc in a sea of yellow ones. It was two bucks a shot. If you got the yellow, you won the small toy. If you got the red, you won the medium. The gorillas were extra large. So in the best case, four mediums for one gorilla. I wanted all three. It was a mission.

Yes, I have a problem. But I also have three gorillas in my bedroom upstairs. Obviously, I won the fight. He did have a point that he shouldn't encourage my "I want that!" attitude. But I have the best counterargument: I'm paying for it myself. I think any man would agree that makes it okay. Four plastic bags of stuffed animals serve as a great reminder that I have issues. Cute plushy issues. And the best part was getting a compliment from the booth worker that we were good because we were patient. I stood there very still waiting for the red disc while kids around me messed up quickly and walked away with their small bear. We called them failure bears. And we left with three of them.

Going back to my low expectations thing, I have found that Circus Circus has my favorite buffet. I've been to the fancy expensive buffets before. It usually ends up the same for me: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and prime rib. So when you use a coupon and end up paying six bucks for two of you to get the same amount and still end up with your prime rib, fried chicken and mashed potatoes, what's the problem? Also, bonus: drink station eliminates waiting for someone to bring you a second glass of water when you should be on your fourth. Did I forget to mention that this was a breakfast buffet? I really enjoyed the first round of waffles, eggs and bacon. You know the best dessert to got with that? That's right, prime rib.

I also should note that in casinos, any gambler can walk up and get your meal comped. I think there is a special feeling to paying six bucks for two buffets. It takes more effort and it makes the meal sweeter. You also don't think back to the three hundred you dropped for the ten dollar dinning comp. Coupon baby!

Sadly by the end of the trip, I had used all the cash I brought (including a trip the ATM). I have to give myself credit though because our car got held hostage due to an investigation by the Reno police into possible hazardous materials in the parking garage (I know it sounds like a lame ass excuse to stay an extra night, but being snowed in doesn't work in July.) and I only pulled an extra hundred from my account. In all seriousness, we were set to leave and I had to call in a reservation to check back into the hotel we checked out of six ours earlier. Since it was Sunday, I was able to get a comped room. It was not a sweet moment. I was tired and wanted to go home. Besides, I already had my gorillas, what more did I need? Actually I was sick of gambling. No, I was sick of losing.

The whole purpose of my trip was to visit Lake Tahoe. Naturally since Reno is cheaper, we stayed there and drove out during the day. To be accurate, we were supposed to visit a friend in L.A. And I had requested the time off. Said friend had to make an emergency trip home, so failed to see the point of caravanning south. We postponed. I don't regret the decision.

I was going to wrap this up with my favorite story from the trip, but then I remembered another. There's this area on Friday and Saturday nights at Harrah's called Zone 21. It's where hot chicks (and a token male) in skimpy outfits dance around and deal blackjack. We go through the area and I was a little excited. Of course I noticed right away. The table minimum was five dollars. I had to play. (This is why my boyfriend loves me. He got to stare at the dealer's rack and I got to play cards. Win-win.)

Zone 21: Where more than alcohol impairs your adding skills.

Understand that these were some hot chicks. I'm a majority stockholder on the heterosexual side, but I know hot chicks when they are bouncing in front of me. I also know that they may be able to bag almost any guy in the room, but I have a bachelor's degree in mathematics. The girl we got, bless her heart, was working her first night without supervision (not including the eyes in the ceiling). To be fair, the music was deafening and we could barely hear each other, but it was just me and my man at the table, so we let her take her time. Slower dealing means longer play time. That's why we also enjoy Pai-Gow.

It was an educational experience. I saw my money taken from me even with a winning hand. I also I got to see what happens when a dealer makes a mistake. Since the floor manager didn't see anything, they called it up the security cameras above to review the footage. A few minutes later I had my five bucks back. We did pretty well and we tipped her. Five from me because she was completely apologetic and I knew I was probably going to be the nicest and most understanding person she'd see that entire shift. Five from my boyfriend, because, well, I think she was wearing a push-up. We came back later that evening and watched her hit a hard seventeen to get nineteen. I was out of money by then, but we got up quickly and left. I didn't want to stick around and watch the reactions of anyone else at the table. I had had a tough enough night as it was.

I should write this last story down before I remember any more. On one of my sobering moments of “crap, I'm down more than I wanted”, I went out to grab an overpriced soda from a vending machine for my boyfriend. Two dollars in and I hit the button. Clunk, clunk, clunk, one Sierra Mist. Clunk, clunk, clunk, a second Sierra Mist. Clunk, clunk, clunk, a third Sierra Mist. Cling, cling, cling, cling, two dollars in quarter in the change return. This machine was paying out. I looked at my loot and ran back to the room. I felt bad, but what do you do? Report the machine? Yeah, I know. It's one thing to steal from the discarded room service cart (Hey, it was a sealed can of soda in the hallway. Fair game!). It's another thing to take advantage of a poor machine who just wanted to come out west and be a movie star.

Looking back on the whole experience, there is no doubt that this was my favorite part of the trip. I needed that win. I had reached the point to where I was stealing toilet paper on the way out. Thank goodness I know when to admit I have a problem.

God,

Give me the grace to accept with serenity losing when I have Twenty,

Courage to double-down a soft Seventeen,

And the wisdom to split Aces and Eights.

R.I.P. King of Pop

While I realize that I'm way behind everyone else who managed to write about this mere hours it happened, I still must make my statements. I was at work when my co-worker received a text message that the "child molesting pervert is dead." First of all that's not how I wanted to receive the news. Secondly, I imaging whoever sent that message will not have even one millionth of the impact on the artistic world as Michael Jackson's monkey. Right, not Jackson himself, the monkey. Please, have some respect. A man is dead.

But this brought up some interesting discussion. As casual bystanders and even benefactors of Michael Jackson's work, we can view him in one of three ways. He was either a child predator who deserved punishment, in the eyes of the law, a man charged but never convicted of a heinous crime and just merely an oddball, or one of the greatest and most significant contributors to the art world.

A friend of mine pointed out that for my generation, this is probably as devastating as when my parent's generation heard about the death of John Lennon. I of course had to point out that Lennon was taken but some selfish ass who wanted to be significant. Although tests haven't been completed, I'm sure no bullets were involved yesterday.

But then we now have to break out the conspiracy theories. Jackson was broke and hounded by those who both loved and hated him. It seems like the time to fake a death and fade into obscurity. Strangely with all the skeptics (or is that true believers?) who will file him in the ranks of Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, and Tupac, he will be hunted, dead or alive.

Yes, with the plastic surgery, molestation allegations, and hanging of child from balcony antics we tend to forget the 13 number one hits, the greatest selling album of all time, and the introduction of a dance craze that wasn't lame like the Macarena. You cannot deny the legacy and the impact he has had on the world. This isn't like Heath Ledger where we will never know what he would have contributed to the world. I would say Jackson gave the world more than his fair share.

All possible nasty remarks aside, thank you for your artistic contribution to the world. I hope you have found peace.

I'm Keeping My Five Dollars

Today I was standing in line at Wendy's and hoping that I can feed six people for under twenty bucks. My niece is next to me and made the comment that she wants to try their new coffee Frosty thing but hates the commercials. Based on the commercials, she's going to pass.

I was astounded. Despite the thirteen year age difference, we have had the same reaction. A refusal to buy something based on the commercial. I find that strange that the advertising is having the exact opposite intended effect. (I'd comment that it's ironic, but I fear that I will use the word incorrectly. Damn you Alanis Morissette!)

I think back and I remember long conversations with my boyfriend about boycotting Burger King because of that creepy plastic king mascot they now have. (And the Star Trek King-Ons made me shake my head disapprovingly, even in an empty room.) The end result was I love those chicken sandwiches. I'll just give up TV until the wave of ads pass.

Even worse was those Subway five dollar sandwich commercials. First of all, they had two rounds of ads with the annoying song. Then they jump to the "everyday people" singing the song and laughing as they got it wrong. Because that song has entered our culture and now everyone knows it. Like how we "want our bay-back-baby-back-baby-back ribs" or "we'd like to give the world a Coke". Then the "go online and do your own commercial" happened. How dare you insult me this way. I spit on your campaign.

And don't get me started on the Quiznos talking toaster sexually harassing the employee commercial. I've decided I'm going to Togo's from now on. It helps that they have the superior sandwiches, but I shall remain firm on my decision.

So what does this mean that these quite trivial reasons are keeping me from patronizing establishments? Probably that I need to get out more. Or more accurately, I need to stay in and learn to cook. That is, while the TV is off.

In the Land of Spoilers

I live in this vast land of the internet. And in its primitive sister land of print when a computer/ internet connection is not available. And this is a difficult time for me. I speak of course of season finale time.

Just reading my Entertainment Weekly has proven to be a challenge. Of course it's my own damn fault for thinking I can read a entertainment magazine and have what's actually going on in the series not written about. But I move forward and hope that they were just kidding when the wrote that Fauxbituary on one of the Lost characters. I can hope that it's like Six Feet Under and everyone died because that's the premise of the show. "Lost" is a metaphor for death and everyone dies. Just like in real life. Wow, that's deep for someone who has not seen a single episode. And the Dharma Inititaive: that's just Lucifer. Okay, now I'm just making crap up. And I had to be creative finding out how to spell that without getting more spoilers.

The only show I watch consistently, (by that I mean I watch on Hulu on the weekends at my leisure) is Dollhouse. I don't care what the critics are saying, I enjoy this show. The argument is " how can you get attached to a character that has her mind wiped every week?" Answer, you don't have to, necessarily. For starters, you want to know how we got to this point.

You don't have to hate the evil corporation that is pimping out these volunteers. You don't have to root for the next generation Fox Mulder out to rescue the walking dead Dolls. You watch a story in progress and put pieces together. Everyone seems to have a secret, or at the very least a interesting past. I want to know. And I'm invested and entertained with every episode. Thank you Joss Whedon. Mission accomplished.

Sadly, I can't stop reading the internet and I got spoiled on a few things. It took from some of the fun, but I still get to enjoy parts here and there. I even had a conversation recently with a friend about how even watching "scenes from the next episode" can ruin the enjoyment. It messed up House for me because they do the fake-out beginnings. I know the little kid having the asthma attack will be fine. This episode is about the profesional athelete and his possible steriod use. (Sorry. Generic and vauge spoiler alert.) Just watching one at a time on DVD and blocking the image on the menu makes it a magical and complete experience. That is with the exception of the damn spoiler in titles of articles. Come one people, give a chance here!

So in this land I refuse to leave, what is my new challenge? I want to see if I can read Angels and Demons before the movie comes out. With the reviews and articles about to flood the newspapers, magazines, and everything else I consume, I should get cracking. I have a rule where I don't start a new book before I've finished my current. It's odd, I know, but I don't like to mix up my stories. All though I amended the rule to have one fiction and nonfiction book at a time. So I have about four days to go. I'll just pretend I'm at the airport. With no wi-fi. And my phone is dead. And I don't need a nap. (Sigh.) Okay. Wish me luck.

Celebrity Sighting #12

Someone help me, I can't be stopped. The Titus show awoke a need to see and laugh and love again. I got tickets to Joel McHale for the Saturday before Easter. I swear at the time it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time. But it was a birthday present from my man, so I said yes please.

It was in Santa Rosa so we stayed the night in town. It was a nice stress free trip. If course if you were in my family, you'd realize this is not a stress free time and we have soooo much crap going on right now with Easter and my brother's wedding and various work related problems. I guess I can take solace that we all have jobs to stress about.

Anyway, stress free Joel McHale fun. We get to the venue and extra bonus: Chris Hardwick (former Singled Out host and current Attack of the Show contributor) is the opening act. When we sat, I knew we had the worst seats in the house. But it was an intimate venue, so it was enough. It only sucked bcasue all of the seats were the same price.

Before the show started, there were announcements of upcoming performances. Again, I have to be stopped. I wanted to run out and get tickets to Frank Caliendo. I wanted to be a nucklehead. My boyfriend is trying his best to keep me in check.

So we saw Chris and we saw Joel. I feel bad becasue I think Chris was better. He is a nerd and he speaks my language. While Joel was funny, it was mostly an expensive episode of The Soup without visuals. Still worth it, but it's easier to calm down my need to get tickets to everything. But I still have to see the shows that I aleady have tickets for. Next stop, David Sedaris. Hell yeah!

Who Watches Nite Owl II's Pants?

I know it's a strange question, but seriously does Patrick Wilson ever keep his pants on? I swear I'm not complaining, but it seems to be an ongoing theme with him. I saw Watchmen recently. Yep, there's his ass. Just to be safe I read the source material and seeing his ass was "essential to the character." Or at least it helped with remaining faithful to the graphic novel.

He's hasn't been in many movies, so I don't have much to go on. Coincidentally, I rented Hard Candy and Little Children in the same trip to Blockbuster. I didn't know he was in both, but it was a strange transition to watch. In Hard Candy, he's an alleged pedophile who gets punished in a graphic way. I don't remember what is shown, but there is a scene where there is an impromptu surgery and some parts of his anatomy are extracted. I know his pants had to be off for what was implied. Please don't make me watch again to verify.

Now in Little Children, it's a step up. There is a pedophile played by someone else(Jackie Earle Haley/Watchmen's Rorschach for those of you keeping score) and Wilson's character has an affair with Kate Winslet. Yep, sex scenes galore. That's two. Or three I guess.

I looked him up on imdb and found it was him that was in the Gap commercial with Claire Danes. There was dancing, music from Annie Get Your Gun, and, wait for it, the removal of his pants. Interestingly enough, he is in the movie in Evening also with Claire Danes. I'd put good money on his pants being missing sometime in the movie considering I know from the story there is a love scene between the two characters. I'll get back to you when I know the results.

To cap it off, I looked at his theater credits. Yeah, The Full Monty. There's a clip on YouTube of him performing the famous scene for the 2001 Tony Awards. I tried to watch it twice and chickened out both times. To be fair, one of the times I was at work. Then again, it's an awards show. What can they possibly show?

Finally I found that he was in Angels in America. He plays an sexually confued Mormon. I am so there. I don't know if he takes his pants off, but I'm willing to invest mini-series time to find out. (It won some Emmys or something right?)

It's abundanlty clear that since I'm dedicating a full post to him, he will be added to my list. You are correct sir. But if this trend begins to reverse and more famous he gets, the more modest he becomes. I might have some issues. Though I don't think I've seen full frontal yet. At least he's still a step ahead (or behind, depending on how you look at it) of Jason Segel.

Judge Not...

..Lest yet be judged for the not one, but two New Kids on the Block Joe dolls I used to have. I had one from my brother and one from my best friend. Lord knows where they ended up, but I guess I should be glad the evidence of my giggling girl days are long gone. Or I should be pissed that I had one still in the box and who knows what that would fetch on eBay. (Apparently ten bucks if I'm lucky.)

Why this confession? I found myself spitting on the anticipated release of Twilight on DVD while gagging over the thought of the Jonas Brothers. Then I freaked out because it's been about ten year since my similar reaction to the Backstreet Boys. (Although secretively, I did want it that way....) I pretend that I don't understand the legions of girls that go nuts for these guys, but then I had to remember that I was once like them.

The first concert I ever attended was a New Kids concert. I remember after church my parents asked my brothers to go ahead into the house, they had to talk to me and my sister. Thinking we were in trouble, I was even more excited to find out they bought us tickets. Looking back, my mom and dad were AMAZING parents to suffer that for their daughters. (I now fear what I may have to be exposed to fifteen years down the road. Maybe I should play my eggs some Yo-Yo Ma and start them in a dignified direction. )

As for Twilight, (aka, Bram Stoker's Romeo and Juliet) again I shouldn't judge. I read Sweet Valley High as a young girl. You know, pretty people with problems. It helped prepare me for enjoying the original 90210. Rich pretty people with problems adds an extra element.

We all have these skeletons in our closet. But I'm choosing to no longer hide behind my hypocrisy and admit on my anonymous blog that I once enjoyed girly tempations. I guess the Bible's right. Be true to thine own self, and to thine owns self be true. (You know, the seventh commandment.)