Why do all the Elvis imitators in Vegas go for the fat Elvis look? Does no one want to remember him as thin and beautiful and sweaty from sexual energy as opposed to drugs and fat?
A real Alaska chair
It’s the start of summer visitor season. Not that the visitors are actually on their way up. No, there are still pockets of snow on the ground and I don’t know what your visitors are like, but mine prefer Alaska without snow. So they haven’t aimed the RVs, campers, cars and trucks north yet. And Alaska Airlines is not yet overbooked with people looking out the window and wondering how there could be that much land between Alaska and Seattle that doesn’t seem inhabited. But the reservations for rooms in my house are pouring in and that means the visitors
Active but adorable
I left the lovely Flamingo Hotel and Casino a few days ago and moved to my cousin’s house…which is actually classier. And oh my, her dogs Nino and Zia give new meaning to the word adorable. Active, but adorable.
Immoral? Immortal?
It’s a miracle. I’m in Vegas with no computer and yet my thoughts still appear here. I’m finally immortal…or is that immoral? In Vegas it’s hard to tell.
How do you know…
How do you know it’s Sunday in Vegas? The hookers aren’t using their rosaries for something other than prayer.
You can’t really take us far from Ducktown
I have my answer. You can take the Italians out of Ducktown but you can’t take Ducktown out of the Italians. Except for the setting, it was a great neighborhood wedding. More on that when I return. I am sending these messages via telepathy and that makes my brain hurt so I have to keep them short.
The wedding
So tonight is the big wedding that brought me here in the first place. Can the ambience of my old neighborhood, which supplied the family whose daughter is getting married, survive a wedding chapel at Caesar’s.
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…along with all my money
I’m in Vegas breaking the bank on the penny slot machines…or spending $20 on them. Whichever comes first.
When did a bike ride stop being just a bike ride?
I was walking with a friend when I saw him. He couldn’t have been more than 8 years old. He was riding down the path on his bike on a beautiful spring day. The sun was shinning, the snow was almost melted and you could feel the surge of life in the air.
Yep, it could have been Opie Taylor heading for his fishing hole…except for one little thing. There was a cell phone in his hand attached to his ear and he was having an earnest conversation while steering with one hand. All memories of an idyllic childhood shattered
Getting old is not for the faint of heart
My poor puppy. Yesterday he had to have teeth removed and things on his neck lanced and things around his butt trimmed….there is no growing old with dignity anymore, is there? On the plus side, he got good drugs, he can still see out of one eye, with all the hair removed from his ears there is every chance he will at least pretend to hear when I call and he got to be cuddled all night under a quilt while sitting on my chest snoring. And he is milking it for all it’s worth.