When I shop at Target, I often hear an announcement letting the clerks know that a customer needs assistance in one of the aisles. When I hear, “Help is needed in the diaper (or whatever) aisle. Who is responding?” I swear, I have to do everything in my power to restrain myself from shouting, “I am! I am!”
I feel really bad when I decide to delete an app from my iPhone. All the apps start shaking as my finger slowly hovers over them, getting closer and closer. It seems like the one I’m about to tap wants to scream, “No! Not me! Delete that Starbucks chick! She’s not as nice as she looks! Or, how about The Instagram? You don’t even know how to use it!”
I feel kind of guilty, but I know it’s ok because the apps aren’t, in reality, being deleted; they’re going up to hang out in the groovy, puffy cloud I decked out for them. Plus, they’re not up there all alone, because all of the other apps I’ve deleted are up there, too!
I’d like to believe that all of my deleted apps are having a great time playing shuffleboard, volleyball, or reading a good book. And, when I pluck a few apps to re-download, the space thins out making it “partly cloudy,” so the remaining apps can sunbathe, if they’d like.
My method for cleaning out my purse is to dump its contents onto the quilt on our bed. I purposely bought a quilt with a colorful, complicated pattern in order to hide dog hair, and muddy paw prints. The drawback is that I don’t always see everything I’ve left behind after putting things back in my purse. As we were getting ready to leave the house one night, Richard discovered a Bobby pin, a AA battery, and a paper clip on the bed. He looked at me and asked, “Who are you, MacGyver?”
Somehow, Richard and I began talking about the games we played when we were growing up. I loved KerPlunk, and still do. Richard said, “Yeah, you really are a KerPlunk kind of person.” I took that as a compliment.
Richard told me he and his friends often played The Game of Life. He said, “The pink pegs represented our wives, so we’d always dump them in the river. We’d try to avoid having children, so, if we accidentally had them, we’d dump them in the river, too.” He saw the look of horror on my face and said, “I’m just not whimsical.”
Whenever we go out to dinner and Richard orders a steak, he always asks for plain horseradish on the side. At Belows, our waiter, Leo, warned him that the restaurant’s horseradish is so hot, they refer to it as “No Joke Horseradish.” Personally, I prefer horseradish with a sense of humor.
I like Rap Music, and I cannot lie, but what’s with those giant parkas? While watching Rappers singing and busting-some-moves under the hot stage lights on TV shows, such as SNL, I start sweating.
Richard’s title for a Country & Western song:
“You Can’t See my Tears When I Text you.”
When you’re driving in your car, and a song comes on the radio that you used to listen to over, and over again on your groovy stereo in your rad bedroom, don’t you remember exactly where it skipped? And, don’t you expect it to skip every time you hear it? Just me? Oh. Ok.
#WhatHappensInVegasStaysInVegas
While we were in Vegas, Richard went to the hotel gym at 6:00 AM. At 7:30 AM, he called to tell me he’d lost his key to our room, apologized for waking me up, and asked me to let him in when he knocked on the door.
This man hardly ever loses anything, or screws up in any way. He lives by credos, such as,”Being on time is being five minutes early.”
So, when he does something out of character like that, I cannot begin to tell you how happy it makes me. A feeling of profound joy inhabits my entire body, sometimes causing me to burst into unrestrained interpretive dance. First, I danced around the room in my underwear. Then I danced in front the windows in our hotel room in my underwear. We were on the 27th floor, so, hopefully no one saw me, but hey! It was Vegas!
The Cosmopolitan Hotel in Las Vegas really is, “the right amount of wrong.”
The hotel houses The Wicked Spoon, the best buffet on The Strip, in our opinion.
News tickers scroll around both inside, and outside the hotel, offering clever, eye-catching definitions of either real, or made-up words and phrases. The news ticker that scrolls around the dessert area of The Wicked Spoon served up the following:
Flexitarian:
A vegetarian who sometimes eats meat or fish.
Buttering the Phone:
A prank a Head Chef plays on a new, less experienced Chef. He or she butters the earpiece of the kitchen phone, and then asks someone to call the kitchen. When it rings, the Head Chef asks the new Chef to answer the phone.
Bacon Stretcher: A fictitious contraption the Chef asks the newbie to find because the restaurant is running low on bacon.
My favorite phrase and definition must have been thought up by someone with a brilliant imagination and sense of humor. As we walked around The Strip, I saw it scrolling around on the ticker outside The Cosmopolitan. I watched the ticker scroll through several times, to be sure I copied it correctly, so I could save it in my iPhone’s Notes.
Here it is!
Stilletus Wobbleus: the difficulty women have while walking in high heels after being over-served.
Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen! Leslie has left the building!
Photo courtesies: iPhone: apple.com, Chris Brown and Tyga: www.rap-up.com, Country & Western Clothing: Libby’s Country and Western Wear, The Red Shoe, and The Wicked Spoon: www.bunchesofjoy.com
*Source: lasvegassun.com
