Wednesday, May 20, 2009

to brighten up a soul-sucking day are some pictures that will make your head 'splode, a la Scanners, except instead of gray matter and blood, unicorn dust and rainbows and fountains of chocolate will erupt! They are that. Fucking. Cute.

A little boy rubbing President Obama's head!

A fawn and bobcat kitten, rescued from the wildfires in Santa Barbara, become BFFs OMG!

Little girl (understandably) wigs out over awesome cupcake!

Yeah, why does I?

And finally, I hereby declare this week an official:

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Vegas pt. 2: always be fabulous

This is the last installment of my Vegas travelogue. We didn't really do much on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning, and we left on Wednesday afternoon, so anything I'd write would be along the lines of "We walked to this casino then that casino, we ate, we shopped, we gambled, lather rinse repeat."

One rather funny anecdote, though: when my dad and I were waiting for our luggage, an elderly woman came up to him and said, "Wanna see the hottest babe on the strip?" She handed him a picture of a woman in a bikini, and we were both like wut. Then I realized it was one of those novelty pictures where they Photoshop your face onto someone else's body, and it was HER face. We started laughing, and she sat down and basically flirted with Daddy-O until our luggage came. I want to be her when I grow up.

Considering the horrible, horrible price I would pay for my Vegas trip (i.e. the worst food poisoning I have ever had in my life, to the point where the Jesus & Mary Chain lyric "And the way I feel tonight/I could die and I wouldn't mind" seemed incredibly appropriate), would I go back and do it all over again?


I’ve been to Vegas at least a dozen times in my life, but I’d never been to the Liberace Museum.

It was time to remedy that shameful oversight.

So on Tuesday morning, a somewhat reluctant Daddy-O and I hopped into a cab. As we were riding there, I leaned over and said, “Oh, just so you know, Dad. I’ve read in a couple of places that the Liberace Museum is staffed by rabid volunteer fans, and some of them go APESHIT if you say anything about Liberace being gay.”

“Are you kidding me?!?”

Our cab driver nodded. “It’s true, man.”

Now, I was expecting it to be kitschy, but I had no idea. NONE AT ALL. If you’re a fan of kitsch, sheer over-the-top extravagance, Vegas history, closeted Polish piano players, people watching (the tourists included elderly Midwesterners, gay guys, and---I shit you not---a huge group of blind people), and/or fabulosity, the Liberace Museum is a MUST SEE. Worth the $15 and then some.
My words cannot possibly do this place justice, so on to the pictures.

The exterior:

A selection of the fabulous cars. Unfortunately many of my pictures didn’t come out well, because my camera was overcome by AWESOME and malfunctioned.

And, of course, you need a matching tool kit.

Costumes dripping in rhinestones, sequins, feathers, and fur:

The world’s largest rhinestone. Yes!

Rhinestone hard hats!


(There were way more than two, but most of my pictures didn’t come out because you weren’t allowed to use flash.)

My glorious souvenir, which now sits on my bathroom vanity to remind me to always be fabulous:

And finally, folks, here it is. The picture you’ve been waiting for, the aforementioned Greatest Picture of Anyone or Anything Ever Taken. I'm not going to reduce it so you can fully appreciate its glory.

Your eyes are not deceiving you. That is a picture of my beloved 62-year-old father THROWING THE SHOCKER next to a wax statue of Liberace.

…hey, I come by my weird brand of filth honestly.

Monday, May 04, 2009

Vegas pt. 1: how do you say moth in Italian?

Okay, I’m finally recovered from my horrific bout of food poisoning. I weighed myself this morning, and I actually lost six pounds. Funny how constant puking and shitting and a diet of crackers and Gatorade will do that to you. Three more days and I would have been ready for bikini season.

Anyway, here’s the first installment of my Vegas recap, which will be more show than tell. Those of you with slow connections may wish to grab a refreshing beverage or light snack while waiting for the pictures to load. Also, some of the pictures have comments if you mouse over them.

On Sunday, April 26th, I left for the Burbank airport at 1PM. To my astonishment (and that of anyone who’s familiar with the 101S on a Sunday afternoon), there was absolutely no traffic at all. I scored a sweet parking spot, hoisted my luggage out of the trunk, patted Ginji on the bumper, and headed inside. I sat in the terminal and read Breathers until they started boarding.

Can I just say how much I love Jet Blue and their big seats, snacks, seatback TVs, and full cans of Coke? (No, I’m not still angling for corporate sponsorship, but feel free to flip me some.) The flight from California to Vegas is short as it is, but flying in comfort really made it speed by.

When I landed, I caught a cab to the Venetian and checked in. A jauntily costumed man played accordion by the fountain as I gawked at the lobby.

Oh, for those of you wondering: no, I didn’t just come into possession of a large amount of money which would enable me to stay at such a swank place. Originally, my dad was supposed to come to Vegas with his girlfriend, and she’d always wanted to stay there. So he booked a room and asked if I wanted to meet up with them. Of course, so I booked a flight and a room at the cheap (but surprisingly nice, at least if you ask for the updated rooms) Excalibur. But then they broke up, so he asked if I wanted to bunk with him for free. I accepted (duh), and he changed the reservations so we’d get two beds (also duh).

Anyway, when I got into the room, I squealed with delight. A huge bathroom with an amazing tub! Glorious Agraria toiletries that instantly found their way into my travel kit! And oh, the beds!


Okay, wait. Do you guys notice anything…STRANGE in that picture? I know it's kind of small, but take a minute and study it carefully while I put up some more pictures.

Minibar treats

Sitting area

Nice to see they found my grandma’s couch from the seventies

Okay, did you find the surprise in the picture of the beds? It’s a fucking PILL BOTTLE under the nightstand. An empty bottle of Ambien, to be precise. Not only that, but the room had an infestation of huge moths; it was like Buffalo Bill’s basement in there. I mean, come on! This room cost a fucking fortune! So I was disappointed, to say the least.

Anyway, by the time I unpacked, freshened up, and took care of the moth situation, I still had about two hours before Daddy-O was set to arrive. I decided to hoof it over to the Bellagio and pick up our tickets for O. Afterwards, I wandered around the conservatory and then checked out the chocolate fountain at the Jean-Philippe Patisserie.

My request to shower in this glorious bounty was sadly rebuffed

This place, by the way, was like Sexworld for food addicts.

Oh yeah, baby…mmmm…

*fap fap fap*


I like square pants and I cannot lie

You should be dancin’, yeah

Of course I couldn’t leave without getting a treat: a lemon meringue and raspberry tart in an almond crust. OMFG THE YUM.

As I was walking back to the Venetian, I got a call from Daddy-O saying that he was waiting in the lobby. I quickened my step, and as soon as I got inside and saw him sitting on the edge of the fountain, I flung my arms around him. I hadn’t seen him in almost 9 months! We went up to the room so he could put his things away and rest before Cirque du Soleil…

…which, by the way, was fucking BRILLIANT. I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to see anything because we had nosebleed seats up in the balcony, but I think it was actually an advantage since so much of the action took place in a pool. There were a couple of clown skits that I could have done without, but overall it was beautifully surreal.

Afterwards, we walked back to the hotel, had a very late dinner at the Grand Lux Café, and did some gambling before turning in for the night.

Monday was a pretty mellow day. After showering and getting dressed, we took a cab to Mandalay Bay for breakfast. I was looking forward to cramming another one of those Belgian waffles with vanilla anglaise sauce into my piehole, but we missed breakfast by 15 minutes. Goddammit! I consoled myself with a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and an obscene amount of fries instead.

Daddy-O couldn’t resist posing for this saucy snap:

When I was taking this picture, an older woman wearing a sweater with a Bedazzled slot machine on the front yelled, “Be gentle with those, honey!”

Of course, I had to play my two favorite slot machines: Mr. Lucky’s and Golden Monkey. I posted a picture of Mr. Lucky just last month, but here’s one of Golden Monkey.

And yes, a monkey was successfully poached!

We went to Shark Reef, which was fairly small but had a nice selection of creatures to gawk at. I particularly liked the petting pool, where I gleefully stroked a horseshoe crab and this dude, who felt like a wet Pink Pearl eraser:

This is the last thing many a Japanese schoolgirl ever sees:

After Mandalay Bay, we took a cab back to the Venetian and went on the gondola ride. It was cheesy as all hell, but like many cheesy things, it was a lot of fun.


This gondola is used for weddings

We ate at the Bellagio buffet for dinner because I’d read that they serve kobe beef. Yeah, um, no. Turns out that they only serve that during their extra-special, extra-spendy Friday and Saturday night buffets. Sulking, I consoled myself with prime rib, gloriously buttery mashed potatoes, jasmine rice, and several desserts.

The rest of the night was spent gambling and watching the excruciatingly corny Sirens of TI show from across the street. I bought the new In Style at the hotel gift shop, poured my Japanese herbal bath salts into the tub, and soaked for an obscenely long time, getting out only when Daddy-O knocked on the door and said, “Are you gonna be in there much longer, Ro? I need to use the shitter!”

Tuesday deserves its own entry, so I’ll get that up as soon as I finish uploading and editing the eight trillion pictures I took…including, as promised, the best picture ever taken of anyone or anything ever.