Revolver Fridays

For the past few weeks, I have been going to the same bar every Friday night. Funny how each Friday morning I wake up and think, "Tonight I will not go to Revolver." Yet there I am at 9:30 standing in the pale light reflected from the bejeweled armadillo hanging from the ceiling. I gaze around and take in the scene. There are the "authentic" cowboys and cowgirls line dancing to Nelly's newest song. There are the waitresses serving drinks in black leather chaps. There are the Nellis Air Force Base gentlemen looking for love. (Ha!)
Each Friday is a slightly different experience, except for the D.J.'s playlist which is exactly the same songs in exactly the same order. You can set your watch by it.
Do I enjoy this Friday night ritual? Meh somewhat.

Luggage Dreams

My dream luggage to pull confusedly down Decatur Blvd.

Off the Strip

I have seen some interesting sights since moving to Vegas. One sight that I see fairly often and always leaves me filled with curiosity is that of the lone person pulling a roller suitcase down the sidewalk of a busy street.
Jack and I live in an old neighborhood (And by old I do not mean quaint, charming, or any other real estate adjective. I just mean *old*.) about ten minutes north of the Strip. I often see people, always alone and always with one suitcase. They are generally looking around confusedly, probably wondering where they are, how they got there, where the Strip is, and why daylight is so freakin' bright in Vegas. I like to imagine the story that got them there; it's probably more entertaining than The Hangover in most cases.

Today for example I was driving home from the gym (house of torture) and I saw one such sad soul. She looked to be in her twenties or thirties, overweight, and as per usual confused. This individual, whom I imagine is from somewhere like Kansas and is named Melissa or Amanda, was wearing a white sun visor with a large ponytail of brown wavy hair protruding over the dingy white band. Melissa/Amanda also had on a bright bubblegum pink, baggy tank top and blue jean capris. She had with her a black, carry-on sized, roller suitcase which she pulled sluggishly behind her. As I drove by, I saw her do the confusion twirl as she tried to get her bearings. Melissa/Amanda then settled her portly, pink self against a silver streetlight with her suitcase resting against her knobbly knee. She appeared to be waiting for someone. Perhaps a taxi. Will it come? Will she get home?

Figure 8

I love to listen to Elliot Smith. My favorite of his albums is Figure 8, which others hate. Blah. I love it because it is whimsical and reminds me of riding the "L" alone when all I had was my discman for company. I would listen to it over and over. "Wouldn't Mama Be Proud?" he asks sardonically. I listened to it when I hated Colorado and couldn't wait to leave. Now all I want to do is go back. HA!

Explosion

Today I set out to accomplish
my mission of finding a locally owned
clothing boutique here in Las Vegas that does not
specialize in strippers, fetishes, costumes, or fancy
dress.

Unfortunately, I did not have as good of luck as former President G. W. B (at RIGHT.)

Things got off to a steamy start (Not in a True Blood way sadly) when I got in my car and checked the temperature. 119 degrees! That is the highest temp. I have seen since I bought that car two years ago. I persevered, sure that I had found what I was looking for in a store called The Attic.
The Attic is located in Las Vegas's Arts District, which had a lot of potential, but not a lot of parking, open stores, or people.

I arrived at The Attic and saw that it was all boarded up. That is odd, I thought. Then I contemplated getting out of my car, crossing the street, and reading the sign written in rainbow colors (like my favorite spelling assignment to give my kiddos) on the board covering the door. I was saved from the effort by a kindly security guard who informed me that an explosion had occurred at The Attic and it was closed for the time being.

An explosion...

This was an interesting development. I decided to drive around the Arts District in the hopes that I might stumble upon a gem. Nothing that I saw was worth going out into 119 degrees for. Art galleries are great for people with money.

An explosion...

Nicely Disconnected

When the switch to digital television happened, Jack and I decided to sit it out. We did not get cable nor one of those converter boxes. Thus, one day every channel was snow. It was a bit disarming, but also freeing and exhilarating. It impacted our lives in several positive ways.

For example, we noticed that people discuss commercials quite a bit. When they attempt to include me in one of these discussion, I feel a smug pride in uttering those shocking words, "I don't have television." They generally stare and stammer, "Ohhhh really??". "What do you do?" they ask. Some people just look at me and I know they are thinking, "How odd." Some people sort of wink and say, "Hey, good for you." Anyway, I don't miss those commericals at all. Now when I do happen to watch real, old-fashioned television, it's like an onslaught of them trying to make up for lost one on one time with me. I try to avoid them by changing channels, but they seem to know that tactic and thwart me. They are so loud and bossy. They really missed me. It's almost touching how much those companies care about me and want me to be happy and reach my full potential.

The cable company really, really wants to be my friend though. They are regular and punctual with their phone calls and mailings. Next thing you know they'll be sending me a singing telegram or an edible arrangement. I'm thinking of going into the cable protection program.

Finally...

I finally (according to my husband) watched THX 1138, George Lucas's first movie. I thought it was a bit incomprehensible, which makes sense as it takes place in a very developed and complicated alternate reality. The thing I dislike about these "futuristical" (Jackism) movies is that they always end with the hero (sometimes with a heroine in tow) escaping into the "real" world and then that's it. I always wanted to know what happened next. (Until I saw The Matrix 2, now I know why most of those movies stop where they do.) Still, what happens next intrigues me the most. How do you build a new world?

Elizabeth's Top 5 Scary Future Movies (Feel free to disagree)

1. Fahrenheit 451

2. The Road

3. 1984

4. Children of Men
5. Mad Max (Apologies to Mel Gibson's Baby Mama)

Jack's Top 5 Scary Future Movies

1. Idiocracy

2. The Island

3. Children of Men

4. Planet of the Apes (Charleton Heston version only. Apologies to Marky Mark.)

5. THX 1138/Back to the Future II ("Where Biff rules the world!")

I applaud the daringness of Jack's inclusion of Back to the Future Part II.