Seven callers got into work today at the call center, only to find out that the phones didn't work. Imagine that, a call center with no working phones. Unfortunately, that means I lost three hours of work at least (and five more if they are still broken by the afternoon shift), and my three mile walk total has turned into a six mile walk (again, only if I have to go back). Then again, I don't have to spend my morning listening to old people from Pennsylvania tell me why they have no money. Instead, I get to blog! Yippee!
I have some bad news to report. I never made it to Flavor Flav's House of Flavor on Friday like I told you I would. After my shift at work I started to walk down the street it was located, but it was a lot farther than I had remembered, to the point where I started questioning myself whether I had missed it or something. And it was devilishly hot that day, and I was sans suntan lotion, so I called it quits after like a mile down this road. Google Maps informed me that I was like a block away when I gave up, but that's okay. If the worst thing about my day was that I didn't get to eat Flavor Flav's fried chicken, I'd say it was a pretty good day.
The rest of my Pam-less day consisted of walking to Target to buy a Pizza Hut mini pizza and one of those sun shields for the windshield of Pam's car, and of listening to the Phillies lose, ho hum just another day in the summer of 2012.
Pammers got home around 8:30 Her official scheduled time is 11-11:30, but I can't remember the last time she didn't get called in to work an earlier shift, which is great because she gets out earlier. As is often on the menu Friday nights, we ventured out into the Vegas night for some pizza.
You can't really go wrong with pizza. Take all the pizza in the world and rate them on how good it tastes, and you end up with a bell curve. Most pizza falls squarely in the "Good" territory. Sure, you get the great pizzas on the far right extreme of the curve like Vince's in the Northeast and Charlie's on the Boulevard, and then you have the godawful pizza on the left extreme of the curve, like... *shudder*... Santucci's. But most of that pizza is just plain good. Let's say the middle 95% (good for two standard deviations from the mean).
I guess the point I'm trying to make is that, if we just simply wanted pizza, Palermo's - right around the corner - would probably do. And that's what we do most of the time, because it's cheap, it's close, it's easy, and it's good. But this was a Friday night! We wanted adventure with our slice of pie!
So we went Strip-ward to look for that adventure. The Cosmopolitan was our destination, where we very much did not fit in with the Friday night crowd, the sorority girls with their too-small dresses and leathery skin, and me with my beard and slippers on (kidding, Pam no longer allows me out of the house in my slippers). In the Cosmo there's an unmarked hallway on the third floor, and at the end of that long hallway, there's a little room called Secret Pizza. Because of the Internet, it's not so secret, but the place is not located on any of the Cosmo's directories, nor is there any signs pointing the hungry in the right direction. So that was pretty neat, finding a hidden gem like Secret Pizza. And of course, the pizza was Good.
It's tough coming up with fun stuff to do on a day off at this point, something that I've harped on ad nauseum in the past few weeks, so we gave up trying to find the essence of Vegas on Saturday and just went to the movies. Moonrise Kingdom was awesome and hilarious and very much deadpanned, as Wes Anderson films always are. And hey, the TGI Friday's next door had a buy-one-get-one entree deal for those with movie ticket stubs. So even though we try not to eat at restaurants that we could easily eat at back in Philly, it was too good of a deal to pass up.
Saturday night we walked over to a usual haunt, Champagne's, for, of course, some karaoke. We met up with a few of the locals, drank a few $2 PBRs, sang a few choice Motown songs, and just generally enjoyed the cozy and smoky atmosphere of the dive bar. I gotta say it though, nights like this make us miss home especially. I like Champagne's, but it just makes me pine for McNally's that much more.
We didn't stay too late, and on the walk home we had to step over cockroaches every few paces. East Las Vegas is disgusting.
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