See, that's totally not weird or awkward. I immediately begin picturing Larry David inspired scenarios in which I find a migrant pube stuck to a spicy tuna roll. Gross. Would you try it?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
My two favorite things: fish and human flesh
For those of you who still haven't bought into the idea that Vegas is a classy city-those of you who think all we have to offer are street brawls (see the video in the post below) you're in for a big surprise. In fact, Vegas can add its name to a long list of cosmopolitan locales where you can eat raw fish off a naked lady. That's right, one visit to Geisha House Steak & Sushi on Decatur, and you can eat sushi off leaves strategically placed on an otherwise naked woman.
See, that's totally not weird or awkward. I immediately begin picturing Larry David inspired scenarios in which I find a migrant pube stuck to a spicy tuna roll. Gross. Would you try it?
See, that's totally not weird or awkward. I immediately begin picturing Larry David inspired scenarios in which I find a migrant pube stuck to a spicy tuna roll. Gross. Would you try it?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Confessions of an MFA grad
Hi everyone. I'm back from Nebraska, and I officially have my MFA in fiction. Some of you might think the pressure is off since I no longer have homework, but actually, graduating is a little like having a permanent homework assignment.
You see, I now have to uphold the expectation of my program, my friends and family who have watched me earn this degree, and my graduating class-some of the most talented individuals I've had the pleasure to encounter. Now I have to publish, which is the best advertisement for the program. I have to not sit in front of my computer with a cork-less bottle of wine that I must drink because it will go bad soon.
Then, Amy Winehouse died the day of graduation, which is like some kind of cosmic warning; create or perish! It doesn't help that we're the same age. I tried to find a nice Amy Winehouse quote to read at graduation, but most of the quotes were short drink recipes. "What's your recipe for success?" asked the Rolling Stone reporter. "Uh, that's a dash 'ah scotch an' lots of ice," Amy probably answered very seriously and drunkenly. That didn't actually happen, but it could have.
You see, I now have to uphold the expectation of my program, my friends and family who have watched me earn this degree, and my graduating class-some of the most talented individuals I've had the pleasure to encounter. Now I have to publish, which is the best advertisement for the program. I have to not sit in front of my computer with a cork-less bottle of wine that I must drink because it will go bad soon.
Then, Amy Winehouse died the day of graduation, which is like some kind of cosmic warning; create or perish! It doesn't help that we're the same age. I tried to find a nice Amy Winehouse quote to read at graduation, but most of the quotes were short drink recipes. "What's your recipe for success?" asked the Rolling Stone reporter. "Uh, that's a dash 'ah scotch an' lots of ice," Amy probably answered very seriously and drunkenly. That didn't actually happen, but it could have.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Apparently we need some clarification
I'll admit I've done plenty of weird Vegas-typical things in the five years I've lived here. For example, just last week, I walked from a club, through a casino and all the way out to my car without shoes on. I'd been dancing for hours and my heels hurt, ok? I washed my feet with hot water and soap when I got home, and I haven't died yet. Would I walk through puddles of sewage? No. But I don't think the casino floor is any dirtier than walking barefoot outside, which everyone does or at least did as a child.
However, I've never walked into a restaurant without pants. And yesterday, I witnessed someone who did. I was eating a late dinner at the Palms cafe, and in comes this group of drunk kids, one of whom was wearing a very long shirt. Hmm, I thought, perhaps she's wearing a swimsuit underneath or just has on some really short shorts.
My question was answered five minutes later when one of the guys at the table pulled her shirt up to her waist while she was standing and talking too loudly as drunk kids often do. And no, she wasn't wearing anything underneath her shirt. The carpet matches the drapes people. So I'm thinking, maybe "No shirts, no shoes, no service" needs to be ammended to include pants.
However, I've never walked into a restaurant without pants. And yesterday, I witnessed someone who did. I was eating a late dinner at the Palms cafe, and in comes this group of drunk kids, one of whom was wearing a very long shirt. Hmm, I thought, perhaps she's wearing a swimsuit underneath or just has on some really short shorts.
My question was answered five minutes later when one of the guys at the table pulled her shirt up to her waist while she was standing and talking too loudly as drunk kids often do. And no, she wasn't wearing anything underneath her shirt. The carpet matches the drapes people. So I'm thinking, maybe "No shirts, no shoes, no service" needs to be ammended to include pants.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Naughty and Nice: Two more options to diversify the Vegas economy
I'm constantly trying to think of ways to pull Vegas out of this downward spiral. As the one metropolitan area that has yet to see any economic growth indicators since the recession, we're still in need of help. I wrote a blog a few months in which I brainstormed non-entertainment ideas for Vegas economic expansion. Here are two ideas within the existing hospitality industry.
The Nice: Legalize Gay Marriage
This idea has been discussed quite a bit. If Vegas wedding chapels were able to perform gay marriages, then wedding sales would go up. This would create a trickle-down advantage for photographers, caterers, hotels, casinos, resorts, etc, that Vegas could cash in on. The only problem (which is a big one) is that our state constitution already has an amendment banning same-sex unions. Any movement in gay marriage legislation would take at least 5 years to finalize via the voting process. Not to mention, Nevada has plenty of rednecks and militias that would not easily stomach gay marriage rights.
The Naughty: Legalize Prostitution
This one has also been discussed in length, though not recently, and not as a way to mitigate our financial crisis. For those of you who don't know, prostitution is only legal outside the Las Vegas city limits. I used to think prostitution was kind of gross, but I recently watched the 80s documentary "Chicken Ranch" (Watch it free here:http://www.hulu.com/watch/155136/chicken-ranch ), which filmed the everyday lives of the young women at the brothel of the movie's namesake. After some research, I actually decided it wasn't too bad, and hey, I'm always a fan of regulation. Vegas hardly has a pure reputation as it is, and the sex industry would definitely bring more tourism.
I'd like to see either of these scenarios happen. While the legal same-sex marriage process is long, it doesn't look like the economy is going to bounce back anytime soon anyway. And then there's prostitution, which is happening right now, like it or not, so we might as well go with it and make it legal and safe.
The Nice: Legalize Gay Marriage
This idea has been discussed quite a bit. If Vegas wedding chapels were able to perform gay marriages, then wedding sales would go up. This would create a trickle-down advantage for photographers, caterers, hotels, casinos, resorts, etc, that Vegas could cash in on. The only problem (which is a big one) is that our state constitution already has an amendment banning same-sex unions. Any movement in gay marriage legislation would take at least 5 years to finalize via the voting process. Not to mention, Nevada has plenty of rednecks and militias that would not easily stomach gay marriage rights.
The Naughty: Legalize Prostitution
This one has also been discussed in length, though not recently, and not as a way to mitigate our financial crisis. For those of you who don't know, prostitution is only legal outside the Las Vegas city limits. I used to think prostitution was kind of gross, but I recently watched the 80s documentary "Chicken Ranch" (Watch it free here:http://www.hulu.com/watch/155136/chicken-ranch ), which filmed the everyday lives of the young women at the brothel of the movie's namesake. After some research, I actually decided it wasn't too bad, and hey, I'm always a fan of regulation. Vegas hardly has a pure reputation as it is, and the sex industry would definitely bring more tourism.
I'd like to see either of these scenarios happen. While the legal same-sex marriage process is long, it doesn't look like the economy is going to bounce back anytime soon anyway. And then there's prostitution, which is happening right now, like it or not, so we might as well go with it and make it legal and safe.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Still wondering...
Driving home from the dog park with Dugi on my lap tonight, I was listening to the KNPR special about anthems-not just national anthems, but rock anthems and other songs that have become cultural anthems for one reason or another. At that point, "All You Need is Love" was playing.
I turned into our neighborhood and was almost immediately flagged down by a young teenage girl-probably fourteen or fifteen-in front of an SUV stopped with all its interior lights on and the doors open. I pulled over and rolled down my window. "What's wrong?" I asked, before she could say anything. The hairs on the back of my arms were standing on end. Something wasn't right.
"Can you help us?" she said, "My mom"-at this point her voice broke and she started crying-"hurt her arm and she can't drive the car."
"Ok, of course. Let me pull my car closer to the curb," I said. I parked, grabbed Dugi and my purse, and got out.
When I approached the SUV, I immediately saw the girl's mother, who was also crying, and what I assume was the girl's little sister in the back seat.
"Do you need me to call someone?" I asked the woman.
"She already said she doesn't want to call anyone," answered the girl's daughter quickly.
"Well, what can I do? I can drive your car back to your house. I can give you a ride," I offered.
"No, no," the woman said and shook her head. "Never mind." At this point, the girl started to argue with her mother in Spanish, telling her that as long as I was offering help, she should take it.
"No, no. We only live a few streets down," the woman insisted.
"I can call someone else-a friend or family member," I offered. I thought it was strange that they had stopped in our neighborhood since it's gated. If they didn't live in our neighborhood, they must have been coming from a house within it.
"There is no one else," said the woman.
"Ok, well let me do something," I insisted.
"No, no, we'll just go," said the woman, shifting her car into drive with her good arm and beckoning her daughter to get in the car. I began to walk away, and, out of earshot of her mother, told the girl where my house was if she changed her mind. I watched the woman struggle to make the one-armed u-turn she would need to exit our neighborhood. She drove very slowly and made a very wide turn that almost took her up onto the curb. At this point, I got back into my car and drove down the block to my place. I'm still wondering how she hurt her arm and if they got home safely.
I turned into our neighborhood and was almost immediately flagged down by a young teenage girl-probably fourteen or fifteen-in front of an SUV stopped with all its interior lights on and the doors open. I pulled over and rolled down my window. "What's wrong?" I asked, before she could say anything. The hairs on the back of my arms were standing on end. Something wasn't right.
"Can you help us?" she said, "My mom"-at this point her voice broke and she started crying-"hurt her arm and she can't drive the car."
"Ok, of course. Let me pull my car closer to the curb," I said. I parked, grabbed Dugi and my purse, and got out.
When I approached the SUV, I immediately saw the girl's mother, who was also crying, and what I assume was the girl's little sister in the back seat.
"Do you need me to call someone?" I asked the woman.
"She already said she doesn't want to call anyone," answered the girl's daughter quickly.
"Well, what can I do? I can drive your car back to your house. I can give you a ride," I offered.
"No, no," the woman said and shook her head. "Never mind." At this point, the girl started to argue with her mother in Spanish, telling her that as long as I was offering help, she should take it.
"No, no. We only live a few streets down," the woman insisted.
"I can call someone else-a friend or family member," I offered. I thought it was strange that they had stopped in our neighborhood since it's gated. If they didn't live in our neighborhood, they must have been coming from a house within it.
"There is no one else," said the woman.
"Ok, well let me do something," I insisted.
"No, no, we'll just go," said the woman, shifting her car into drive with her good arm and beckoning her daughter to get in the car. I began to walk away, and, out of earshot of her mother, told the girl where my house was if she changed her mind. I watched the woman struggle to make the one-armed u-turn she would need to exit our neighborhood. She drove very slowly and made a very wide turn that almost took her up onto the curb. At this point, I got back into my car and drove down the block to my place. I'm still wondering how she hurt her arm and if they got home safely.
Friday, July 1, 2011
You mean all great journalists have a black Amex?
My favorite late-night activity is (No, not going to the strip club.) watching obscure documentaries on Hulu. Last night, I happened upon a doc from 2003, which was filmed, produced and directed by Jamie Johnson of the Johnson & Johnson fortune. It's called "Born Rich," and the point of the project was to interview all his other heir and heiress friends about being wealthy.
I highly recommend the film to anyone (You can watch it for free here: http://www.hulu.com/watch/174635/born-rich ). The best part of the movie is not what Jamie intended of it, but the subtext that only a non-billionaire like me would pick up. I don't even want to describe it, lest I spoil the surprise.
Anyway, when I finished watching, I went to the blogs to see what other people thought. I happened upon this blog: http://www.halfsigma.com/2008/02/born-rich.html
Reading through the post, I realized the blogger pretty much agreed with all my thoughts, until I got to this paragraph:
"This gets to a key point I make all the time on this blog, that the “cool” professions, such as journalism, are heavily populated by children of the rich, but they don’t wear t-shirts that say “my parents are decamillionaires,” so unfortunately many middle-class children try to get into these professions without realizing how the odds are so stacked against them."
What?!?! Shut the front door! I was a journalism major. At one point I wanted to be a journalist! Why haven't I heard this before? I thought I understood everything there was to know about class, status and power. After all, I minored in sociology. I thought my complete failure to get any cool internships was because I sucked. Does this blogger mean to tell me that I'm not freelancing for Vogue because I'm not an heiress?
I immediately became very annoyed at all my ancestors for not being WASPs who came over on the Mayflower and instead went through dirty Ellis Island circa the recent past. I'm still peeved about it, right now, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a silver spoon to shove in my mouth and meditate for the best.
I highly recommend the film to anyone (You can watch it for free here: http://www.hulu.com/watch/174635/born-rich ). The best part of the movie is not what Jamie intended of it, but the subtext that only a non-billionaire like me would pick up. I don't even want to describe it, lest I spoil the surprise.
Anyway, when I finished watching, I went to the blogs to see what other people thought. I happened upon this blog: http://www.halfsigma.com/2008/02/born-rich.html
Reading through the post, I realized the blogger pretty much agreed with all my thoughts, until I got to this paragraph:
"This gets to a key point I make all the time on this blog, that the “cool” professions, such as journalism, are heavily populated by children of the rich, but they don’t wear t-shirts that say “my parents are decamillionaires,” so unfortunately many middle-class children try to get into these professions without realizing how the odds are so stacked against them."
What?!?! Shut the front door! I was a journalism major. At one point I wanted to be a journalist! Why haven't I heard this before? I thought I understood everything there was to know about class, status and power. After all, I minored in sociology. I thought my complete failure to get any cool internships was because I sucked. Does this blogger mean to tell me that I'm not freelancing for Vogue because I'm not an heiress?
I immediately became very annoyed at all my ancestors for not being WASPs who came over on the Mayflower and instead went through dirty Ellis Island circa the recent past. I'm still peeved about it, right now, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find a silver spoon to shove in my mouth and meditate for the best.
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