Caterwauling

We were out tonight and I saw a convertible Pontiac Sunfire. I’ve never seen one of those. If you can afford a rag top, wouldn’t you buy a better car? 😉

(Nothin’ but lovin’ for the Sunfire — that was my first car.)

In keeping with the “all things ass” theme …

Have you tried the Juan Valdez coffee pods? I figured they’re so expensive from Senseo and El Dorado (not to mention that the latter doesn’t offer all the flavors online) that I’d get the cheap Juan Valdez wonders.

And the coffee tastes like a burro’s ass.

*squick*

I did visit the Juan Valdez cafe in Manhattan, but I don’t remember feeling like I licked an asshole that had been sitting on mud for a couple decades.

I’m just going to suck it up and order “real” coffee pods from now on. Unless that “unique” aftertaste is a usable amount of crack, I can’t finish this pack. *barf*

Reflection, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

Mandalay Bay’s beach in Las Vegas. Where sitting in 98-degree dry heat felt a lot cooler than 70 degrees in the dog-breath humidity of D.C.

I wasn’t there long, as I only had a couple hours before my (thankfully late) checkout time. But yeah, all my distaste for Vegas melted away as I sat with my toes in the wave pool and contemplated absolutely nothing because I was happy to be who and where I was.

A million more photos to upload from my last trip, but this is one of my favorites.

So I’ve been needing a new coffeemaker for, like, for-ev-ah. So this weekend, I broke down and bought the red Senseo because, well, it’s red.

I know. My logic? Impeccably convoluted, but always justifiable in my mind.

I’m not sure I’m thrilled with my new bundle o’ java joy. First of all, there are two buttons for it — one for a four-ounce cup of coffee (I could snort that, people. Seriously) and another for an eight-ounce mug. But anytime I fill the water tank to eight ounces, and then hit the button for the, oh, eight-ounce brew, it only heats/uses four ounces. Not getting this.

But I do have to admit that, once every six cups, it will give me a full mug, so it’s moodier than I am. Perhaps I need to stick a Midol in the pod-holder every few cycles to get it in the mood to function again? 😉 You can buy a bigger tank but really, what’s the point?

The expense of buying those stupid pods isn’t something I thought through completely. My yuppie grocery store charges $4.69 for a bag of 16 pods. Which is cheaper than going to Starbucks for a venti dulce de leche latte, so I can’t really complain. But the selection blows.

I was shopping on the Senseo site because I really wanted the Hazelnut Waltz, but you can’t just buy a 16-pack. Oh, no, you have to buy 96 of them for $30. (Or you do the subscription plan for $3 cheaper, but I don’t see the flavored-java option for the auto-ship method.)

This works out, price-wise, but resisting temptation isn’t one of my strong points — I snarf down 96 cups of coffee in a month — especially if the machine keeps pissing out these teeny four-ounce cups at every turn!

I’m also admiring the Irish Creamery flavor, too, as no store seems to carry that, either. I got a sample of the Hazelnut and loved it, but the Irish one is untested at this point. I did try the Vanilla, which is available everywhere, and didn’t go ga-ga over it.

I’d heard reviews that the water never got hot enough with this coffeemaker. I have no complaints about that — the thing is perfect, even if I do have to trip over the cats wander into the kitchen twice as often to get as much brew as I need to be functional before I leave the house.

Now if this isn’t the most boring blog entry ever, clearly I didn’t slack try hard enough. 😉

(Imagine me saying the title like Eric Cartman screams “Beefcake. BeefCAKE!”)

Otherwise known as “what I want for my birthday.”

He’ll be autographing these limited-edition prints on Saturday at Mandalay Bay. Hmm, Mandalay Bay … wasn’t I there, oh, just YESTERDAY?!?!

*bonk*

In any event, de-lish!

If I never hear “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” again for the rest of my life, I’ll be the happiest girl on the planet.

That said …

I’m hoping that the food poisoning I picked up in Vegas will stay, well, in Vegas. I doubt I’ll be that fortunate, though. There I was, surrounded by booze and cuisine and all kinds of sinning and stuff, and I was the only sober person in the city. Go figure. *sigh*

See, the problem with dry-heaving after consuming a cracker (I had two crackers and six Rolaids today, total) is that a girl’s mother will automatically start planning on grandchildren. Not morning sickness, peeps! This is a conversation a man never has to have. It’s food poisoning, folks. Jeez — I spent a week with colleagues in Vegas; unless my vibrator started spewing sperm in the interim, I’m pretty sure we’re all safe. *whew*

‘I’M GONNA EAT YOU, GUMMI BEAR!’

The weekend wasn’t a total wash, however. I did get what we will call the WORST PICKUP LINE EVER. I was walking down the Strip (the North Strip, which is kind of ghetto, not the South Strip where all the “real” hotels are) with the girls bouncing around quite happily. And this drunken dork sees me and says, “Those are jigglies!”

You see where this is going.

So he really wanted to touch them. I walked faster, although he couldn’t quite break into much more than a stumble. So he’s slurring, “Those are jiggly — like gummi bears! Come here, Gummi Bear — I’m gonna EAT YOU!”

Needless to say, I tore up my Monorail pass and decided to cab it to the South Strip from there on out. 😉

STINKOSPHERE

With whatever illness I have right now, I can’t stand the smell of anything. So imagine coming from the rich, chi-chi resort-type hotel where my work comrades and I set up camp for four nights — which smells deliciously like coconut — and going to the Stink Stratosphere.

Now, I don’t want to hate on the Stratosphere — the view from the top is lovely. And the room is functional — it’s no Paris, Bellagio or Mandalay Bay, but you know, it’s fine. But the casino part? *faint* It smells like stale smoke and dry-roasted ass. I know all the resorts smell like smoke, but you’ve got places like Caesar’s Palace that does its best to make the air smell like vanilla.

I walked into the Stratosphere last night, after seeing Lisa Lampanelli’s set at the House of Blues in Mandalay Bay, and I started dry-heaving. It would have been retching, had I digested anything in the past, oh, four days. It’s cute how everyone thought I was the one who was drunk! 🙂

YEAH, SON!

Speaking of Lisa Lampanelli, awesome. Just, awesome. She was promoting her “Dirty Girl” tour, which you probably saw on Comedy Central. There was some really old and some really new material mixed in, but you’ve got to love her because she’s all about the audience participation — she was out in the middle of the floor, insulting people to their faces. Priceless. 😉

She had two opening acts, and the second one — a guy named Wendell — totally blew her off the stage. He was flamingly gay and spent his whole set talking about vaginas. And he lamented that we as women do so much to gussy ourselves up elsewhere, but we leave that area dark and neglected.

First, he suggested we toss up some track lighting down there, to brighten things up. 😉 Secondly, he said he has a great new product for us to add some sheen and sparkle to the ol’ hoo-ha: “Clitter.” HA!

I was ticked off that my camera got confiscated at the HOB. Not only did they take it, but I had to PAY them for the privilege of handing it over to them. And there was a tip jar, to boot! Jeez. The line to get the camera back was no picnic, either. Meanwhile, Lisa was out signing autographs, but it took me so long to get through the camera line, I said fuck it and opted to not jump in the meet-and-greet line. Oh well.

THEN AND NOW

Back in my mid-20s when I used to host fund-raising events, I used to come to the hotel room equipped with bottles of rum, vodka, tequila — you name it. Then in my late 20s, I picked up the habit of bringing wine — always a white, sometimes a red.

This trip?

A bottle of Pepto, a bottle of Immodium, a bottle of Phillips, a roll of Tums and a pack of Rolaids vanilla soft chews. Sheesh! How times have changed!!!

I’m sure there’s more to say to sum up my Vegas adventure, but alas, someone’s body clock is finally adjusted to Pacific time and she’s back on the East Coast, just in time for her first 7:30 a.m. deadline. …

Sat by the wave pool today. Had sand in my toes and it seemed like a perfectly logical way to rid myself of it. I had my feet in the water for an hour — my feet-up Friday is the most fantastic ever!

Don’t worry — I don’t do the bathing-suit thing. Too afraid of being harpooned or something. 😉 But what does amaze/impress me is how many women just don’t care who’s looking at them. I have a slight self-conscious streak that’s more apparent in beach-weather situations, and maybe it’s the fact that everyone’s on vacation, but hey. Apparently if you can get the suit on, you can wear it!

I’m more freckled than when I came out here, thanks to today being the first day I actually got exposed to sunlight. My chest got tan, which is nice, but damn these freckles — they stopped being cute about 25 years ago!

My poor, aching feet. I just wandered the entire resort barefoot and standing on the hot cement hurt less than wearing shoes. Oh well. There are other children who would kill to walk through the desert on their way to an air-conditioned suite!

Got to “Fashionistas” tonight — front-row center seats, baybee!

I may create an iMix with all the music, if one doesn’t exist already. LOVED the tunage.

The show was fine. I don’t think it was worth sixty bucks. But then again, there were women in skimpy outfits doing airborne calisthenics right above my head (wrapped in a sheet — very nice) so I guess I got my money’s worth. The girl who sat next to me left for awhile, while one of the acrobatics experiences was taking place. Wuss. 😉

She seemed disgusted in general. Looked like she thought it was going to be something else entirely. We were given posters after the show and collectible programs (i.e., the song list with which I will be creating my next playlist) and she tossed EVERYTHING in the first available trash can.

I was tres underdressed for a fetish show. Perhaps the only person who left the hotel in khaki pants and an albeit-casual blazer. Of course, I got points for being the youngest in the audience — i.e., the one person who probably read the show description on teh Interweb — and I think I was the only one who was clapping with any feeling whatsoever.

They worked hard, the dancers. Although I do admit, for a supposedly sexual storyline, some of those chicks were as wooden as a freaking Pinocchio doll. And entirely too skinny — seriously, bones don’t turn me on, sweethearts, even when they’re covered in fishnets and leather garters!

I ended up at the Paris for the evening, at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Which was lovely, per usual. It’s been about two years since I’ve been up there, and I believe the last adventure was in the winter with someone who chatted a lot. I watched the fountains at the Bellagio dance, and well, it was a fantabulous night. Now it’s 2 a.m. Pacific and I’m afraid I’m going to sleep through my wake-up call. Oh well! 🙂

As if last night’s feast weren’t enough to give all of us a major case of the “blahs” today, T, J and I went out for breakfast. Mmm, salmon benedict. Lord. Is it a wonder that none of the clothes I brought will fit anymore? There’s talk of dinner at a favorite haunt, but argh, the work I still have to do. And besides, how could I go to that place if I can’t even digest the thought of eating yet again?

My digestive system is currently in rebellion. Dinner tonight at fancy-schmancy upscale French place with the gang. Could pronounce pretty much everything, as I took five years of French and all, but can’t remember it all.

Highlights: salmon ravioli (pure salmon, no pasta) stuffed with guacamole. Lamb shank plus lamb cannelloni. Eggplant caviar. Dessert a chocolate plate with chocolate sorbet, chocolate-caramel gooey cookie, chocolate brownies with anise and some other stuff. And neverending glasses of red and white wine. The one-word summary of the night: yummy.

I eat more on these quick trips than I do in an average month! Last night brought the best Brazilian barbecue in the world plus alcohol and way too much gambling. Lunch today: lamb (even more!) and tasty pomegranate limeade at a poolside cantina.

Tonight, I decided to be a good girl and passed on after-dinner activities as it is 11 p.m. and all. Just chugged a liter of water and wondering whether to take a bath with the signature sea salts provided for us or whether I might finally get my first night of sleep in three nights. Fucking drunken morons roaming the halls at all hours — even a Benadryl and Tylenol PM cocktail never manages to keep me asleep.

Off to watch the channel with the live aquarium webcam feed and curl up in a ball. *hugs corporate expense account, wonders why I spent so much time in nonprofit sector before this* 😉