and then there is this....

Two tears in a bucket...

Mother Fuck It....

Trust that..

The entry I posted earlier did not fully express my feelings...

I'm a thankful person...

I am thankful that:

Southern Comfort exists.

I have a job that affords me the ability to buy it in large quantities.

My liver, while not thankful...is accomodating.

(&*%^&^%(%(%^&*(%$#()$@^*%$(&^

I seriously sat here for the last two fucking hours writing a post about the end of my trip to Vegas and Houston when Blogger suddenly pops up with an error message.

And it was all lost.

I am so angry right now I don't know if I will ever re-write it but trust that it was witty and funny and you would have laughed your fucking ass off when you were reading.

So there! Take that blogger.com, you assholes!

Forgive the interruption

Between Barb the Kooze and the snowfall I have interrupted the story of my vacation to Las Vegas and Houston. Not to fear kiddies,

I shall resume the story shortly.

I also want to wish a Big Happy Birthday to Richard H. in Indy!

Happy Birthday Scooter!

I'm not kidding...

Or as Uncle Tom Nagin would put it "This is not a test people."

It's snowing.

A lot.

This is my backyard at 4:30 pm, about two hours after the snow began to fall.

Can you see the ruler mark? 4 inches of snow. In two hours.

Here's a quiz: Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul. Know why?

He didn't drive a rear wheel drive car.

In all seriousness, I haven't seen a snowfall like this since 1999, a full year before I moved to New Orleans. It's kind of pleasant once you get past the shock of how much snow is coming down and how much it sucks to try to drive around. The nice thing about days like today are things like making snowmen (which I tried but was soon too cold and wet) or building a fire. Many moons ago I lived in an apartment with a fireplace here in Indy. It was a particularly harsh winter and my boyfriend and I dragged our whole mattress into the living room and slept in front of the fireplace. Now I could do without the memory of that particular ex, but otherwise it's a very happy memory.

I was shocked when it first started today but fuck it.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

We interrupt this blog...

To make this special announcement:

I just want to send a very special thank you out on my blog today.

To Barb: (whose name I only know because I heard her friends say her name)

Thank you for being a complete kooz. Thank you for being such an abrasive, mean spirited and complete and utter bitch while you dined today.

Let's review, shall we?

First you were a fucking bitch to the 8 month pregnant hostess who sat you.

Then you were an indignant CUNT to the person who delivered your food.

As if this weren't enough, you had the god-damned audacity to ask me to bring you a PITCHER of water to refill your glass that was half full (or half empty). When I told you I couldn't bring a pitcher but that I would be happy to refill your glass (which, BTW, was a total lie) you asked me to bring you two glasses. Now my hearing may not be up to snuff but as I walked away, I swear I heard you say, "because the service here is so slow..."

I hope you really didn't say that, but acting as if you did, I intentionally filled both those glasses to full and took away your straws hoping against hope that you would spill that water all down the front of your unflattering power suit that would have a much better effect if it hadn't been bought at Lane Bryant. I tell you Barb, it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from you at that point. What I wanted to do was break the glass across your smarmy puss and laugh my way to the city lock-up.

After you left I had some time to think about your visit. My wish for you, my deepest prayers were that you had a meeting this afternoon that ran so long you were hating yourself for drinking so much water because you had to piss like a Russian race horse and eventually had to piss yourself and hope that your winged maxi would hold out like you were in the 9th ward of New Orleans.

Oh, and to the lady that was wearing the Louis Vuitton knit cap; seriously I had to look twice at the crumpled bills you left as a tip, I figured they were knock off's as well. Baby, if you're going to wear knock offs to your job at the Vo-Tech, make sure it's something that the designer actually does sell. Just a tip.

We're off to see the wizard...No, wait they took that shit down...We're off to see Las Vegas!

A couple months ago my friend Jason invited me to join him on a trip to Las Vegas. I hadn't been in eons so I decided to go with him. Since I would be traveling already I added a few days on to my trip to visit two co-workers/fellow evacuees in Houston. Hilarity ensues;

Our flight was very early in the morning so I stayed at Jasons place on the northside to get an earlier start on the day. Tommy, a friend of Jasons, swung by and invited us to go get drinks with him at a local pool hall. We had already had some drinks (cue the bad idea bears) so off we went. Now Tommy is a drinker but not one that holds his liquor well so we're rolling through this place, all of us drinking like Kennedy's but drowning like Kopeckney's. We are almost ready to leave when the waitress says to me, "I swear I know you." Since I don't often frequent northside taverns I assured her that I lived very far away and that we weren't acquainted. She said "Well I'm not from here, I live in New Orleans..." It turns out she recognizes me from the pub since she hangs out there, or more specifically she hangs at Oz but remembers me waiting on her a few times at the pub. Even John Edwards didn't see that one coming...She and I chatted a bit but we had to get going, we had a very early flight the next day...So we leave and grab a few hours sleep; rising before the sun to catch our flight to sunny Las Vegas.

As soon as we boarded the plane I went to sleep. The flight wasn't very full so I was able to stretch out in the seat next to me. It would have been better for Jason's 6'6 frame for us to get the emergency aisle seats behind us, but at least I got to lie down. A little bit later I stirred when I heard the flight attendant coming down the aisle behind us saying more feverishly as she went, "drink, drink, drink!" I didn't understand why she kept saying it over and over again so frantically until I sat up and realized it wasn't the flight attendant but was the woman behind us saying, "Frank, Frank, FRANK!" while leaning over an unresponsive man. It seems Frank has some blood pressure problems and he passed out. The captain ordered everyone to their seats, oxygen was brought out and a doctor was called on the ground via this huge set of headphones donned by a flight attendant. Frank was pretty far gone it seems and for a little while there I thought we were going to have to land to get Frankie to a hospital. I overheard his wife say that he had done this on another flight a couple years earlier. Eventually he came too and sat up, he looked pretty wiped out but at least we didn't have to detour through Tulsa (at least not yet). The excitement over we went back to our flight but I couldn't help but wonder if Frank or his wife were paying attention when the flight crew asks "Is there any reason you could not perform the duties of sitting in the emergency row?" I think regularly passing out from a blood pressure drop might be an indication that you probably aren't the best candidate for that seat...

When we landed in Vegas there was an ambulance waiting for Frank and then we were able to de-plane ourselves, grab a cab and head to the MGM Grand. We didn't forget our diastolic diva though. Every time we saw an ambulance in Vegas we waved and called out "Hi Frank!" or "There goes Frankie!" It's the little things in life.

At the MGM we dropped off the luggage and hit the casino but we were both too drained to get really involved in anything. We were able to go up to our room a little while later and I took the opportunity to rest while Jason continued to play a little blackjack. He came up later and we both ended up dozing off for a bit. Soon we were up and running though, headed to the Mirage and then a show at the Wynn. We ate at Samba, which is a Brazilian restaurant. They bring out fried plaintains, farofa carrots, creamed spinach and black beans and rice. There is this little wooden dowel on the table that is painted red on one side and green on the other. When you're ready for the main "courses" then you turn that baby to green and the food comes to you. Jason had promised me hot Brazilian boy servers but the A-squad must have been off getting ready for carnivale. Our back waiter was pretty cute but since he went through three different names in the course of the night I wasn't buying him as a true Brazilian. He started out identifying himself as Jose but had a different name tag on and when questioned he admitted his name was really Adam. If you're going to make up a name to sound more Brazilian then you should do better than Jose. I would totally have bought Augusto or Gustavo or even Ernesto but Adam or Jose wasn't cutting the mustard. Anyway, what happens is that these waiters bring huge skewers of meat out and cut you big slices and chunks right at your table. The food was delicious, different meats from pork to Mahi-Mahi, flank steak to ribs. I ate a ton more than I thought I would but eventually gave up, turned our dow rod to red and head onward.

Jason and I were both hoping that Barry Manilow was going to be in town but we had just missed him. Fortunately the show Avenue Q has found a home (other than it's current Tony award winning run in NY) at the Wynn hotel. The Wynn is a beautiful hotel and my opinion of it increased greatly when I won 90 bucks on a nickel slot before the show. I was sitting at the sports room bar with Jason but the cane laden parliament light smoking hag next to me wasn't leaving me much room next to her. Polyester obviously needs breathing room. We were directed into the theatre by the super nice and super gay usher. I think he was more like the head usher or floor supervisor, but he was cool and fun and lead us to real usher whose name I don't quite remember. This boy was very cute and now he looked like he should have been serving meat somewhere. I know, I'm crude.

The show was FAN-fucking-TASTIC. I regret now not getting up off my ass and seeing it in NY last June. It was incredibly funny and even touching at times, like when Kate Monster sings her number "A thin line between love and wasting your time." The show was a great hit with both of us and spurred us on to a tour of other casinos that I hadn't encountered or hadn't seen in a long time. The last time I was in Vegas they were just building Paris Casino and Venetian was just opening up too. I hadn't seen several places so we walked and checked some places out, eventually coming to NY/NY and hawking over a price is right nickel slot machine until the three square state bitches that had driven in tent stakes decided to forage for free beer elsewhere. I lost that money promptly and that was pretty much it for the day, I was tired and the next day we had an early (ish) appointment to the spa so it was off to bed.

The next day was very relaxing. Jason and I both went to the fitness center and did some cardio and a little workout before heading to the actual spa for a swedish massage. I was actually able to honestly say to my masseuse (who was female) "it's my first time." How many more of those do I have in this life? The rub down was great, just so relaxing. Afterwards we had time to hit the whirlpool and steam rooms for a while. No it was not cruisy though friends have told me that the Luxor hotel's spa area is very cruisy. My first trip to Vegas I was propositioned in the mens room of the Excalibur by a very creepy man so I think I can probably skip the cruisy spa.

We did some wandering around after that and made plans to meet up with some other friends of mine for dinner that night at the Range restaurant in Harrah's. For my New Orleans readers, we know Harrah's to be the nicest casino in town. Harrah's in Vegas, not so much. I have never cared for their hotel. Let's take an example. The Wynn hotel has an art gallery with pieces from Matisse and Picasso. Harrah's Vegas has this. Another eatery at the hotel is the Toby Keith "I Heart this Bar and Grill." A "restaurant" which is loaded down in jingoistic, Lee Greenwood proud to be an American crap . I didn't read the menu but would expect to see "Shock and Slaw" as a side dish. We were passing some time while awaiting our dinner companions by playing video poker and sloshing down (Okay, I was sloshing down) free cocktails at a bar near a casino area dubbed "the party pit." They could have left out party. Things started to go downhill here as Jason and I neared convulsions participating in the second most fun thing to do in Vegas, people watch. The extremely fat girl who had cried off most of her mascara was nothing compared to the frightening Hispanic black jack dealer. He didn't have any players so in true party pit fashion he began to dance this strange combination hat dance/wave thing. He was getting jiggy. Throw in a showgirl dressed like big bird and we had a slew of targets.

Luckily our friends joined us then and we were off to dinner.

Ranch restaurant on the other hand, was wonderful. The menu was good and whoever does the hiring for this place must do it with gay boys in mind. I didn't see a single server there that wasn't mostly if not completely hot. Maricio the back waiter took special interest in filling my water and it became somewhat of a game, all conversation ground to a halt when he came around. Our food was excellent and it was just so very nice to sit with three friends and enjoy each others company so completely.

After dinner the boys gambled more (This was high limit slots and I was thrilled to win $90 bucks playing Monopoly nickel slots, this was definitely not my speed.) It had been decided that we would go out that night to Good Times, a newer gay bar that Jason had visited on a previous visit the month before. Vegas, like New Orleans is a 24 hour town whose main industry is tourism. It stands to reason that Monday would be a good night to go out, less tourists, fewer shows. We piled into a cab and headed out. The bar wasn't that crowded when we got there but filled up very quickly. We staked out an area and were having a good time drinking and chatting when I noticed a very cute young man walking across the room. I kept an eye on him and we played eye contact for a few minutes before he walked up and introduced himself. His name is Johnny and he is cute with a capital Q (sorry, Will and Grace line there.) Seriously Johnny was adorable and we spent quite a while talking that night and even tried to play pool but it was pretty crowded in there and the game wasn't that successful. It was late and after a long chat Johnny left (though called me when he got home to say goodnight and we made plans to see each other the next day.) There will be more stories of Johnny later in my tale but for now I will suffice to say that I was quite taken by him...not literally in the Vegas sense of being rolled but more in the sense of being smitten...anyway, more of Johnny in a bit.

While I was chatting with Johnny Boy I came across Dan, the former manager of Huge Ass Beers on Bourbon Street. He has re-located to Vegas along with several other Orlenians and so I got to play catch up with some folks from home on top of meeting the cutest boy in the place. A New Orleans boy, Chris, offered Jason and I a ride to the Buffalo which if memory serves is supposed to be kind of a leather bar. We didn't stay there long, both Jason and I were pretty popped by now and after he was yelled at for sitting on the pool table and I had swiped the abandoned quarters on a pool table next to us we jumped in a cab and collapsed into bed back at the MGM.

Okay so I've been writing for some time now and only made it through two days of a 7 day vacation. I'm gonna cut it here and pick it back up tomorrow....Hopefully then I will have picked up some tips on quicker pacing....

Ciao for now!

Is this Flo's yellow rose?

This is a statue that sits in the middle of Harrah's casino in Las Vegas.

Tacky right?

It revolves.