Farewell Weekend, Continued, With Sobriety This Time

It's rude to blog with someone else in the room, ya know. Read up on it. It's called Blog Etiquette. So understand why I had to stop mid-sentence last night when Pam walked in the door. Plus, hanging out with Pam is a little more important to me than hanging out with my words on the Internet, no offense blog, old friend. Especially after a whole day of not seeing her. That girl works long hours.

So I was in the middle of a "humorous" comparison of the two buffets we've been to, right? And "humorous" is in quotes because I'm very much aware that I am a lot less funny than I think I am sometimes. So here we go.

Terrible's is ten dollars all-you-can-eat, whereas Rio's is FIFTY dollars (including tax) each, so it better have been worth it. Terrible's has theme nights, where one night they have Mexican and one night they have Italian, etc. For Rio's, every night is every theme night. Seriously, with an empty stomach, the buffet table looked like a mile long. And they had everything. American, Japanese, Carribean, Greek, Mexican, the list goes on. And, of course, the Crustacean section. Buckets and buckets of crab legs, mussels, shrimp, crawfish ("Don't think that's even close to real crawfish from Nawlins," said our friend from New Orleans). And everything was incredible. Seriously, we attacked those crab legs for about an hour. And don't get me started on dessert.

So that was Wednesday night. We checked out the casino after that for a little bit (though we both had work in the morning, so it wasn't a late night). I gotta say, all these casinos are blending together a little bit in my mind. They all pretty much look the same. 

Here's the slot machines that cause a cacophony that I'll be hearing in my sleep for years. Here's the upscale restaurant to the right, one with a menu on the door that makes your wallet cringe. Here's the sports book to your right, billowing with cigar smoke and loud with the galloping of horse hooves on the big screen. Here's the aging cocktail waitress, serving the senior citizen in the motor scooter and the sorority girl in the way-too-short dress alike, all three with frowns on their faces. Here's the blackjack table, and its tuxedo'd dealer, and the requisite man, tufts of hair clutched in his palm, losing another round. Here's Pam and I walking through all this, again, not taking part really but just soaking in the standard Vegas atmosphere.

I paint an ugly picture, maybe, but it is what it is. People are on vacation in these places and they can do whatever they want. There's not much for us to do in the casinos, since we don't gamble. But it's Vegas, and that's what's expected, I guess. I'm not really sure what the point of writing all this is. So let's move on.

I said in the last paragraph that we don't gamble, but that's a lie, because I did gamble very tentatively yesterday. See, on the Mirage's website, it says that drinks are complimentary its sports book if you are betting. So I bet $10 on the Phillies, and waited for my free drinks. Except, both I was an idiot and the website was misinformed, because the minimum bet for free drinks was $125.

Which is a bet I should've made in retrospect, because the Phillies won, and I would've won $104.38. Instead, I bet $10 and won $8.35. And honestly, there's no way I could possibly bring myself to risk that much money, that's just not the kind of person I am (read: a cheap bastard). Hey, I won a bet though! That's the first time it's happened while we are here! Go Phillies! I'll be buying Hunter Pence and Cliff Lee a beer each when I see them next, and I'll buy Chooch two. They really earned those eight dollars for me.

I went to the Mirage with Pam's and my buddy from down the hall, a travel nurse himself, whose last day in Vegas was yesterday, so it was celebratory beers and cigars all around.

Titled "Farewell Cigars" in a post on Facebook, this caused much confusion among friends back home, who saw the title and thought that Pam and I were saying farewell to Vegas and headed home. Nope, we're here till July 14th, folks (and will be home around July 24th, so get ready to hit McNally's soon after).

Hey, while we're showing off pictures, here's that picture of Treasure Island's pool I promised you.

It will be nice to go back to that pool and actually party, because with the DJ blasting dance music and everyone carrying around yard-long mixed drinks and dancing and going crazy, it was a little weird sitting there reading Infinite Jest.

Hey, I'm on a roll with these pictures. Here's the beer we have been drinking, inspired by this article.

It tastes like turtle pee. But I like it. Hope that doesn't sound too weird for you.

And one more picture. Hey, look at how good Candlewood treats us. They got us a new flat screen TV.

It's not your fault, Matt Damon. It's not your fault. IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT.

Alright, back to words exclusively now. What can I write about next? I already kind of touched on some food we ate the past week. I wrote about the cheesesteaks, which were good, but I'm definitely having Jim's ship out a steak after my next pay check. I wrote briefly about the awesome sammy I had at the Wynn, too, right? Yea, I guess I did. Ugh, what the heck else have we been up to?

Oh, right, Pam reminded me of last Saturday night, we hung out with some of Pam's JHN friends, which was very nice. We all hung out at the Cosmo (that's what us locals call The Cosmopolitan, ya know). It was extravagant, as is the entirety of the hotel, really. It was nice seeing a familiar face or two, ya know? Well, I mean, technically they weren't familiar to me, because I just met them, but they were really nice people and it was nice, I dunno, seeing some Philadelphia faces.

Other than that, I guess it's been just work for us. Ya know what? Pam hasn't written on here in a while, so let me hand this off to her real quick so she can write about the 'Rise. In exchange, I've agreed to take out the trash. Here she is...

Since Joe is forcing me to write about work ("just one paragraph, come on, please?"), here goes...Since about the beginning of April I've been steadily working in the recovery room, or PACU (post-anesthesia care unit) at Sunrise. It's a pretty sweet deal because 1) of all the different types of patients that come through I'm learning a lot and majorly branching out of the neuroscience realm and 2) I work every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday from 11am until 1130 pm. No waking up early and I have off every weekend plus all of my co-workers are pretty cool. We're even going out with a bunch of them next Saturday to the Blue Martini (and since Joe loves the Bleu Martini in Philly oh so much, I'm sure he'll have a lot to write about after [note: she is being sarcastic here. -ed.]). Another cool and kind of weird thing about the PACU is that I take care of kids from time to time. Usually with the baby patients I have the deer-in-headlights look still, but I'm getting used to it. Crying babies will always freak me out probably until I have babies of my own. Five sentences, that's a paragraph, right? I think I've more than fulfilled my quota. Here's Joe again...

Here I am. I would write about my workplace, but there's not much to say. Okay, there's a little bit to say, but I'll save it for the day that I quit, which is going to end up being the beginning of July I think. I will say, however, that 80% of the graduates from the US Naval Academy are ignorant, arrogant buffoons, and that's all I have to say about THAT.

Okay, so that's it, I'm done writing for today. This is Joe's Stream of Consciousness, signing out, and promising that next time, Joe will try to put together a blog post that's a little more rigidly structured, and maybe a bit more planned out in advanced.

Farewell Weekend

It's 9:40 p.m. Pacific Standard Time. Pam is scheduled to get off work at 11:30 p.m.; often on Fridays, however, The 'Rise lets her out early, so who knows when she'll walk in the door. Sometimes it's nine o'clock. Sometimes it's one a.m. In any case, I'm going to try to squeeze in a little blog post here. Don't be surprised if this post ends mid-sentence. Or perhaps I'll finish it but I won't have time to proofread, in which case, don't judge me in the morning when the word "address" has one d and the word "across" has two c's. For some reason I always have trouble with those two words.

So here's a blog post. To officially start, here too is my Official Excuse For Not Blogging In Over a Week: "I stumbled upon a Harry Potter fan fiction, and I've been reading it pretty much for every spare minute over the past two or three days, sorry blog. 99.999% of Harry Potter fan fiction is sophomoric dribble written by 13 year old girls who have crushes on Ron Weasley. This wonderful piece of literature, I can assure you, is both amazing and intelligent. It's pretty much (so far) a complete rewrite of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, written as if Harry had grown up as a pure academic. Everyone other character is the same, but Harry uses pure reason and logic instead of, as he did in the novels, living his life affected by visceral emotion. Anyways, just read it, if you are a fan of Harry Potter and want to stretch your brain a little bit."

Okay! Now to start the actual blog post! Quick! Pam just texted me to say she's on her way home! Uhhh, ummm... I'm blanking. What did we do?!?

Um, okay, we went to the Treasure Island hotel's pool. That was cool. I'll upload a picture that Pam took, but not now. I only have a few more minutes to write. We were able to gain access to this pool area so easily because a few weeks back (Family Weekend, to be precise), a rogue room key from TI was found on the streets of Fremont, and it was subsequently walleted by yours truly. So the old guy flippantly checking proof of residence at Treasure Island for pool access had no problem with letting us, "residents" of Treasure Island, into the pool area. (He did, for some reason, have a problem with us bring our water bottles poolside. Really, you think it's vodka? Take a sniff, why don't you, stinkin' narc.)

That was... Sunday. I want to say Sunday. Man, when Pam walks in the door and makes me end this post, it will probably be for the best. I'll get her to help me remember our week for me when she wakes up tomorrow morning. Which I estimate will probably be like 5 p.m. EST, so hey, check in with us on Sunday and see if we updated again!

Okay, what else? Ah! We went to the Rio's World Famous Seafood Buffet. This was the opposite of Terrible's buffet, which we've been to quite a few times thus far. Terrible's is ten dollars all-you-can-eat; Rio is FIFTY dollars (including tax). Terr----

Ron-Ron Juice, Episode 3: Pabst Blue Ribbon Is Just Like Ron-Ron Juice, Except Better Tasting And Doesn't Make You Throw Your Girlfriend's Mattress Out Onto The Deck In An Angry Drunken Stupor

Ron-Ron Juice is what the guys of the Jersey Shore drink when they wait approximately four hours for the girls to get ready to go out to the clubs. The basically sit on the couch and drink into oblivion, yelling random and probably obscene nonsense while the gals cake their makeup on and bathe in perfume. This is me, waiting for Pam. Not nearly as long, not even close, but long enough to blog. And this is me, drinking a little bit. Not nearly as much, not even close, but enough to be considered "pregaming." And this is me, blogging, during that time. Ron-Ron Juice Time. CABS ARE HEEYAH.

Pam is straight up HUSTLING to pick a dress to wear tonight (seriously, they all look ridiculously good on her, I don't quite understand what the big decision is), so I'll make this quick.

We finally did something that thing we were dreading on doing for a while and are, frankly, a little ashamed of doing after the fact.

We ordered some Philly cheesesteaks from a Las Vegas sandwich shop.

Please don't judge us. It's tough being away from home for so long from our Philadelphia and all the wonderful things that come with living in the greatest city on earth. I'm dying without having the Phillies on TV, so much so that I paid eight dollars a darn beer to watch them at the Wynn sports book yesterday (though, to even out price-wise, they had an absolutely delicious, cheap sandwich that had corned beef, turkey, provolone, russian dressing, and two poached eggs. I hungrily digress). I miss our family and friends so much, because it's tough to watch the Phillies alone (or a random creepy guy who sat next to you because he saw your Hamels tee shirt). And I miss cheesesteaks. I miss eating cheesesteaks for breakfast and I miss eating cheesesteaks for a 2 a.m. snack.

And we all know that to get a "Philly Steak" outside of Philadelphia is sacrilege. Every sandwich shop from coast to coast sells their variation of the venerable cheesesteak, but they are all an embarrassment, save for those valiant steak czars: Jim, Steve, Pat, Geno.

But hey, sometimes you go crazy out here in the desert. Sometimes you'll see a false beautiful oasis in the middle of a stretch of sand if you are thirsty enough. Sometimes you'll see some chopped up meat on a roll with some cheese (and lacking onions, because I'm a wit'out guy) and you'll miss Philadelphia so darn much that you'll eat a pale imitation of the real thing just to feel something, just a little bit, that you haven't felt in three months.

Sorry, guys. It was a good sandwich. I'm so ashamed.

So who wants to go to Jim's with me on July 24th?

Grand Canyon

Ah, the fresh air, the wide open spaces, the sun shining and the breeze blowing, this was our relaxing vacation to the Grand Canyon.

"Be prepared," reads the Boy Scout Motto, so we did the best we could with limited resources. Tent, air mattress, clothes for all weather, sunscreen, non perishable foods, and fresh socks were all packed up in Fashionette (that's Pam's car, who out there gets the reference?), and we made the short five hour drive to America's greatest natural wonder.

First, we set up camp, which, truth be told, didn't really mean doing a whole lot. There was already a fire circle, we didn't have to clear out any debris for the tent area, and we didn't have to set up any tarps or anything, because it wasn't going to rain.

OR WAS IT?

Because, as a general rule, on camping trips, it almost always rains. That was the lesson Troop 321 learned over and over and over again in my Boy Scoutting days.

SO DID IT RAIN??

No. Incredibly, it didn't. I think this is proof that the Troop 321 Rain Jinx requires a minimum of two members of the troop to be present on the camping trip. (It could just be that, ya know, it rarely rains in the  southwest United States, but just let me have my superstitions, please.)

Here is our tent. Not too bad, right? It's a nice starter tent. Not sure how rain proof it is (we didn't even put a ground tarp down), but that was a moot point on this warm, dry weekend.

Note too that we kept Pam's dirty, stinky shoes outside the tent.

It got pretty cold at night, but we were almost adequately prepared. We just brought all the blankets from our hotel room, and wore thick socks, and all was well. Man, the desert does get super cold at night, and quickly too.

There was a general store just up the road, from which we purchased firewood, firewood, and beer, in that order. We also ate a dinner there Sunday night of BBQ chicken sandwiches, because we ate all the hot dogs Saturday night. Yay, diets!

Here's Pam, being her usual cool self, chilling under a tree. It was nice to just spend time relaxing, reading, and enjoying nature.

Here's Pam, being her usual cool self, chilling around the fire pit. This was the start of our Saturday night dinner, where only the finest of hot dogs were sizzling over a hot bed of coals. 

Hah, just kidding, we put dollar hot dogs on a dirty grate and warmed them up enough to eat.

Wow, Pam sure did enjoy her hot dogs!

Here is Pam throwing up her hot dogs.

When the sun went down, so did the temperature, so we kept that fire a'blazin' for a few hours. We occupied our time by telling ghosts stories that we used to hear as kids. Spooky! 

With the flash on my camera, the fire looks less impressive.

"Joey, look, a fire!"

It was Mother's Day on Sunday, so of course we did what all good sons and daughters do, and called our mothers to show our appreciation. Appreciation costs only a dollar on the pay phones.

Hey, there's a lizard! I think. I dunno, try to zoom in.

Yup, that's definitely a lizard. I think.

So Sunday was our day of visiting the actual Grand Canyon, which I'm just told now is NOT one of the official Wonders of the World. Though, my understanding of the Wonders of the World is somewhat skewed, since I grew up being told by the WWF that Andre the Giant was the Eighth Wonder of the World.

Anyway, we took a bus (there was a little bus system that rode around the National Park and drove people to the Canyon) and ended up at the Visitors Center. Not much to do here, just a few artifacts and rocks with placards describing their significance and whatnot.

There was one room that projected a five-minute show on a globe. Cool, I guess.

For real though, there was a 20-minute show in a theater that gave the history of the Grand Canyon, from the first explorer who found it (and who described it as a stupid pit that no one in America is going to give two craps about, basically), to the first people to raft down the tumultuous Colorado River, to the first people to take pictures and shoot movies of its majesty. The film was really bombastic - "An architecture of rock that stretches from the brink of civilization to the very edges of your imagination!!!!" - but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

And then, we saw the actual darn canyon.

It looked surreal. It was like someone painted a beautiful picture in front of my eyes, but I swear it didn't look real at all.

You looked down far, and saw how deep it went, and then realized that it went deeper than that. With binoculars you could barely even see the bottom.

I think they said it was equivalent to three Empire States Buildings.

An eerie reverence was prevalent among the guests of this magnificent scene. Who could do anything but stare silently when faced with this massive abyss?

Phew!

Wowza!

Rocks!

Amazing.

Taking in the scenery.

Not sure why people still find it necessary to take a picture twice in the digital age. It made sense when you weren't going to see the picture for a few weeks when they were developed, but now you can just look at your screen on the camera to make sure the pic came out okay. This is a weird habit society will take a bit longer to break, I guess.

One day, we'll hike down into the canyon. Not this time - it costs like a bajillion dollars, and we didn't have the handful of days it was require to complete the journey. But some day.

Despite the high elevation, there was some room for vegetation, and even some cacti.

I wanted a picture of these Asian tourists, but please don't ask me why.

And then I fell off the edge of the Grand Canyon. Don't worry, I had climbed back up by the time Pam was ready to leave!

Then we walked past a theater, where they totally don't do Shakespeare plays but totally could and it would be awesome.

Nothing caps off a day of Canyon-seeing like a nice, cold, Grand Canyon Brewery beer. Indian Pale Ale IPA, my favorite.

Here's Pam, being her usual cool self, reading some more, while I, unbeknownst to her, took a little nap with   my sunglasses on.

The sun went down, so it was time to start the fire again. I'm such a Boy Scout, starting that fire skillfully... with the help of a starter log. And we needed more than two matches. And I forgot to bring a rope for the fire circle. I hope my scoutmaster doesn't read this.

Tried to take a picture of some deer we saw late at night. There it's eyes! Yowza!

Anyways, that was our trip. The ride home was brutal. But the experience we had at the Grand Canyon was something I'll always carry with me. It truly was stunning, to see that huge pit with my own two eyes. I had seen it countless times in movies and TV shows, but to actually be there... it was incredible. I'll never forget it.

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Good evening, loyal followers.

I had plans to update some photos from our Grand Canyon adventures, but those plans morphed somehow into going out to grab some drinks. You know how that goes.

Anyways, the trip was awesome, and I look forward to sharing some pics and some memories, maybe... tomorrow?

In the meantime, here is a picture of gangster Pam.

We Need a Vacation From This Vacation

Okay, we're bored.

Well, I can't really speak for Pam, but I am definitely bored with myself right now.

I feel like for the most part, we've soaked up everything we could in this town, and there's no much else to do. What does Las Vegas have, really. Shows? We've done shows. Gambling? Don't much gamble. Restaurants? We've gone to more than a few restaurants. Bars? Yea, you could say we've been to a bar or two.

Call it a slump.

I have nothing to write about since I last wrote. Well, okay, let's spend a paragraph recounting the thin tale. Cinco de Mayo was fun; we drank margaritas at a local college Mexican bar, and then ended up at Fremont somehow. The next night we just hung out at Terrible's, which was not terrible except that, terribly, Bingo was not open that night. Then I kicked butt at Trivial Pursuit. Monday through today, who knows really? We've both been working here and there. Like I said, nothing worth writing about. Or maybe I just don't have the will to spin a tale out of nothing tonight. Sorry.

Definitely a slump.

But, chins up! Because this weekend should get us out of this slump, I would guess.

We are headed to the Grand Canyon tomorrow morning until Monday, which I assume is going to be a jolly good time. Our campsite is pretty close to the canyon itself. Pam's never been camping, so that should be a good experience for her. Above all, we'll be doing something new and exciting. Which is much needed, I assure you.

So, consider this one of those blog posts that promises better blog posts in the future. We won't forget camera, promise.

Cinco de Mayo, Antes de la Cerveza

It's Cinco de Mayo, and I'm sitting here waiting for my gal to step through that door. Champagne's on ice; we're celebrating not only the victory of the Battle of Puebla, fought by beleaguered Mexicans obviously to give young adults yet another excuse to binge drink, but also the end of a long work week. That poor girl is slaving away in the recovery room, especially today, waking up at an obscenely early hour. She deserves a break.

So anyway, here I am, digesting a couple of peanut butter and bacon sandwiches (they were pretty much the only food we have left - we desperately need to go food shopping), waiting for Nurse Pam, and bored enough to blog a bit.

There wasn't a whole lot going on this week, but there are a few isolated events I could wax poetic about, I guess. Let's mix it up a little bit today and type this crap out of chronological order. Because, honestly, aren't you getting bored reading this blog every week, where one paragraph starts with "On Monday, we..." and the next paragraph says "On Tuesday, we..."? It bores me to write it. Let's have some fun.

Wednesday, May 2nd, 10:15 A.M.

"A representative will be right with you."

Pam and I were beating the system. Some sucker was going to try to get us to buy a time share, and regardless of what we said ("No" or "No" or maybe even "No"), the company this guy worked for was going to give us two free nights in a city of our choosing, plus a $100 dinner gift certificate. A squat but genial man approached us. "So I see you're here to look at some time shares. In my experience, those people who are here for the gifts will always say no, no matter what I do. So even though it may be a fruitless endeavor, let's see if we can change your mind." He couldn't.

Thursday, May 3rd, 7:20 P.M.

"You are six dollars short. Two more beers?"

So much for $100 of free dining dollars. We were sitting in a booth at the Harley Davidson Cafe on the Strip, using $25 out of the hundred, watching the Flyers lose in overtime and watching our diets lose in overtime after a delicious BBQ pulled pork sandwich each.

Why only $25 out of the $100, you ask? When Pam went to print out the gift certificate for the restaurant of our choosing (and really, what else would we choose besides barbecue?), there in fine print, size 4 font, italics, was the footnote: "Must spend a minimum of $50 when using $25 in dining dollars." On one hand, we were jipped. Cheated. Bamboozled by those bastardly businessmen. "Come to hear us talk about how you'll never be able to afford these fantastically beautiful resorts along the coasts of the Carribean," they claimed, "and we'll make you rich! $100 worth of food for free!"

On the other hand, we did only drop twenty-five plus tip on a fifty dollar check, so the promise of gifts for the time share nonsense wasn't all a complete charade.

Saturday, May 5th, 4:00 P.M.

"You have reserved Site 29, which is a tent-only campsite."

That's right, we're hitching up and ditching town next weekend to explore Mother Nature's masterpiece, the Grand Canyon. Just made the reservations today for our campsite. Ah yes, we're enjoying nature the way God intended, in a tent. I guess the next step is buying a tent.

Come to think of it, we don't have much of any camping equipment whatsoever. I guess I know where my paycheck is going this week. I'm sure there'll be plenty to say about this much anticipated road trip as the week progresses.

Wednesday, 11:00 A.M.

"Okay, so, we're looking at a down payment of $6000, and then about $250 monthly for the next seven years. Does this sound reasonable?"
"Ummm... Not really. We're really sorry, but financial, there's no way we can do that."
"So money is the only reason then?"
"Well, yea, kind of. I mean, I'm paying off car payments and paying rent, and he just got out of school a year ago and doesn't even have a full time job. We wouldn't be able to handle this."
"Let's get Gerald over here. Hey Gerald!"
"Alrighty then, mates, I shouldn't even be telling you blokes this, but I can offer ya my special Locals Discount. See, since you live here, we can [do this and that and the other for you], and see, here ya go, can ya handle this one, ya smarmy chums?"
"No, I'm sorry, not doable [and please tone down your British, it's overwhelming]."
"There's one last thing we can offer. We can [make one last move of desperation because gosh darn you just came here for the gifts didn't you] and there you go, what do you think about that?"
"We're really, really sorry, but it's just not going to happen at this time. Maybe in a few years..."
"... It has to happen now, we won't invite you back after this."
"Well then no, I'm sorry, not today."
"...."
"...."
"...."
"Please step around the corner for your gifts."

Wednesday, 11:00 P.M.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

It was the perfect night for ice cream. Except, you know how people say that nothing ever closes in Las Vegas? Well, apparently that's only true for anything that isn't an ice cream shop. Nothing in the general vicinity was open at 11 at night, not a Dairy Queen nor a Baskin-Robbins. Finally, we found a Ben & Jerry's open late-for-a-Wednesday nestled in the corner of Treasure Island. Nothing quite tastes as good as a strawberry cheesecake in a waffle cone with my Pammy (except maybe a Rita's gelati with my Pammy don't think about home don't think about home don't think about home).

Friday, May 4th, 3:00 P.M.

"Okay, then, how do you usually get your hair done?"

I have no idea how to describe my typical hairstyle. Isn't there some kind of number system that describes hair lengths or something? What the heck does "squaring up" mean? Do I usually have equal lengths on the top and side, god I can't even remember now. Usually when I walk into Jerry's at the corner of Rhawn and Pine, I just say "The Usual," because he's been giving me the same hair cut for like six year now. So when the rockabilly youngster asked me how I wanted it done, I was speechless. I had no idea. The best I could come up with was "Urmmm, ughhh.... short, but not to the scalp?"

I guess that was good enough to work with, because my hair cut came out pretty decently. The only snag was that I told him "Yes" when he asked me, "Do you usually square it up?" I guess I assumed that meant just that the bottom would be flat, but apparently that means the hair on the back goes up to your ears, which is waaay higher than I'm used to. I anticipate this looking absolutely ridiculous as it starts to grow back in. Luckily, I have a good sense of humor about my many off-putting physical traits, so a weird haircut can easily just fall into that.

Thursday, 8:30 P.M.

"[lyrics from the Elton John song they played]"

After checking out another Bellagio Water Fountain Show - this stuff never gets old - we decided to check out the actual Bellagio, if only to see how the fancy folk live. It was indeed fancy, and it smelled wonderful. The pleasant aroma was most likely due to the crazy flower set-up they had in the main foyer. Here's a cute pic.

Looks like she's standing in front of a green screen, doesn't it? Nope, unlike the photo opportunity presented to us at the Harley Davidson Cafe where you could sit on a motorcycle, this is a completely real photo. That huge swan and the equally huge duckling next to the bridge are obviously real.

Wednesday, 2:55 P.M.

"There's going to be a change in your schedules."

I like my job a lot, but that's mainly because I'm an optimistic guy, and can find joy even in calling cranky Miami residents or old cranky U.S. Naval Academy graduates. But sometimes this job can be just plain silly with its scheduling.

True, it does say in our handbooks that we signed that "shift times are able to be changed at the will of the boss." Still, I didn't think it was going to get this absurd. When I started - just over two months ago, mind you - I'd work from 2:45 until 6. Then they changed it to 2:45-6:30. Now, oh boy, now starting on Monday, I'll be there from 3 until 8.

That's five uninterrupted hours of trying to convince unemployed citizens of northeastern Pennsylvania to give what little cash they have to a hospital that already charges their family thousands each month for the cancer treatment they inevitably tell me about. Spoiler Alert: No one wants to donate money.

Morning shifts are extended by two hours as well, and of course this was the first schedule I signed up for a couple morning shifts. So it looks like I'll be at the ol' call center from 9-8 on Tuesdays.

Hey, it gives me something to do while Pammers is at work. And the paycheck will be like double now. A paycheck double the size is always good to have in a town that takes your money twice as quickly.

Wednesday, 12:15 P.M.

"All that naysaying made me hungry."

You usually don't have to go far for good food around here, and the Bluegreen Club 36 Resort, where we declined to buy a time share, was no exception. Just fifty feet away was a nifty burger joint called Grind Burger. We chose it for two reasons:

1) The waiter doesn't take your order. Instead, you filled out a questionaire about how you would like to build your burger. The meats and toppings and sauces seemed infinite, and there was no way the cook was going to screw it up, because there it was, filled out by the customer himself.

2) Pat, our agent who unsuccessfully made a bid at our money, told us about how much he loved Grind Burger. "Every inch of this massive beer belly was earned at that place." Indeed, he had a massive beer belly. Huge. Hey, I can make fun of him, because I have one too! It's like only blondes can make Blonde Jokes, right? Anyway, he seemed genuinely happy to have cultivated a monstrous stomach at Grind Burger, so we figured it had to be good.

And it was good. And we were full. And I hit the gym to even out that weight gain so as to not become a Pat.

Friday, 12:35 P.M.

"BARBER SHOP TOPIC TODAY: WHO WAS/IS WORSE "RON ARTEST METTA WORLD PEACE" OR DENNIS RODMAN?? LET ME KNOW WHAT YA'LL THINK..."

It was time to get a hair cut. I had been putting it off for too long. It was to the point where I just looked stupid. Luckily, I had seen a barber shop just up the street, about a 15-20 minute walk from the Can. No sweat. That was my goal for Friday.

Except, I'm really protective of my hair. I'm not the Fonz or anything, but I just really strongly prefer not to have a really bad hair cut, or worse, a hair cut that isn't "Joe Kain" enough. Think of it this way: in general, a fade hair cut isn't necessarily a bad hair cut. Like, when the guido get their shape ups, they look like D-bags, but that's how they are supposed to look. The cut fits them.

Along those same lines, if I were to get a fade or a fohawk or something, I would look horrendous. That's not me. To be stuck with a haircut that makes me seem like something I'm not scares me a little bit.

So please understand my actions when I walked up to the barber shop I had my eye on for a while and realized what the name of that barber shop was. Upon closer inspection, the title above the door read "Fade 'Em All University." I kept walking. This was not my barber shop. I chickened out.

But, sometimes the stars align and things work out the way they are supposed to. By chance, in my travels to put distance in between myself and that esteemed place of higher hair education, I met a coworker from the call center, who happened to have lived in the area for the better part of a decade, and who happened to know exactly where to go. Just right up the street, apparently, was a true barber shop, one with a candy-striped pole outside and everything. And it would be just what this dorky white boy needed.

So I started the walk. Turns out my buddy had greatly underestimated the distance I needed to travel to get to the barber shop.

And that was the day I walked five miles to get a hair cut.

Wednesday, 10:45 A.M.

"And here is the presidential master suite that could be yours."
"...!"
"As you can see, it can easily hold 16 people comfortably. It would be ideal, with its wet bar and table for eight and three bathrooms and huge multimedia center, for a party of some sort."
"This is incredible."
"It is, isn't it? Just the perfect place to vacation. And it can be yours for only...."
"WE'LL TAKE IT!"
"...Pam shut up....."
"I mean, we'll take... another look at it."
"And over here...."

Saturday, 8 P.M.

"Let me tell you about this patient I had..."

Time to pop the champagne, Pam is home! Happy Cinco de Mayo, everyone!

Remind Me to Update Sooner Next Time; This is Long

Now that I spent four hours writing about Family Weekend that happened two weekends ago, I'm going to try to spend a few more hours about the life and times of Joe and Pam in the days between then and now.

This one is going to be a little tougher. At least for Family Weekend, I could look at the itinerary we planned before the fam visited if I needed a hint about what we did. For the past week's story, I don't have that luxury. I tried to write a little cheat sheet, but there's still some holes in my memory. What the hell did we do last Monday?! My mind is blank. I didn't even tweet that day.

Oh well. That little calendar you keep under your pillow, writing down exactly what we did each day according to the blog, I guess you'll have to keep that Monday blank too. Actually, you know what? Write: "Joe and Pam went bungee jumping." It's fun to pretend.

What actually happened? Stretch all the way back to the morning we woke up while my family was getting on that plane home. We were hungover - not that anyone went overboard over that weekend, but four straight nights of moderate-to-kind-of-heavy drinking can add up. So we played it easy that day. Sleep. Curtains closed. Plenty of liquids. Actually, I had work from noon till four, but I'm sure Pam napped those four hours, as she is wont to do. That night we went to Gordon Biersch for dinner (no, God, no drinks this time), as Pam's sister and brother-in-law were kind enough to send us a gift card. Thanks guys!

Then, I dunno, we went to the grocery store for our biweekly food shopping trip (no, God, no beer this time). I bought two onions. Good times.

Monday I have no freaking clue WAS THE DAY WE WENT BUNGEE JUMPING.

Tuesday I did probably nothing, because Pam was scheduled 12:30pm-1am. What did I really do? Hmm, the Phillies were on that day, and they were playing in my Time Zone, so that was nice. Let's pretend I went to the gym, even though there's only really a 50% I did so. And even though Pam is scheduled until 1am, she almost never gets out that late. Christ, I'm typing this at 9pm on a work day and she's already home. I won't pretend I know how this all works, maybe she'll explain it to you guys one day on our humble little blog here.

Wednesday we (GASP) woke up early. I know! But it was worth it. Our mission was that discount show tickets place at Bill Gamblin' Hall (Flamingo and the Strip). We bought our $80 discount tickets and had a lunch of turkey burgers and chicken wraps at Margaritaville that we pretended was breakfast.

Let's talk a little about the magnificence of the show we went to see. Absinthe.

Located in a big ol' circus tent outside of Caeser's, Absinthe is a non-Cirque du Soleil show that some critic claimed (prominently on Absinthe's posters), "If you only see one show in your lifetime, make it this." And while I would argue that a Burholme reunion tour would be that show, Absinthe is most definitely a close, close second. It was awesome.

I'm not one to be impressed by circus tricks (cool, dude, you can balance on a tight rope...), so to say that the crap they did on the stage in front of us was incredible, I really do mean that. And the stage in itself was neat-o. It was circular stage, with the audience surrounding it in all directions, and it was only about 12 feet wide at most. If you think there's not many feats of skill and finesse that can be performed on such a stage, you're wrong. It was nuts. Here's just the first act:

Yea, that's a dude who balanced like nine chairs on top of one another, and then proceeded to do all kinds of hand stands on tops. And that was the first act. I won't say what else we saw, but seriously, I was awestruck. I'm running out of words in the thesaurus to say how cool it was.

And on top of all that, it was uproariously funny. None of the jokes I could post here - I did, after all, commit to writing a family-friendly blog, and the jokes they told would probably get me banned from Blogspot all together.

[Wait, what's going on with the formatting of this post? I don't know how to get this text to start below the picture, Blogspot changed the whole interface of the site, and I can't seem to get the hang of it yet. Whatever, just ignore any how weird this looks]

After Absinthe (freaking awesome), we chilled at Caesar's for a bit, got a drink or two (no, God, no more than that yet), and got lost in the parking garage before we called it a night. I WAS WRONG PAM WAS RIGHT WE WERE ON THE FOURTH FLOOR NOT THE FIFTH FLOOR OKAY.

Thursday was another one of those Pam's-working-what-the-heck-am-I-gonna-do-with-myself days, broken up by my own work day. But mine's four hours and hers is twelve, so I hung out and watched NBC comedies (including Community, Thursday nights at 8 pm on NBC), and was totally going to do all my chores at 11:30, when Pam walked in 10:45. I loved seeing her so early in the night, she loved seeing me so early in the night, she did not love seeing the dishes dirty and the bed unkempt and the toilet seat up. Oh well. Procrastination will sting ya sometimes, as I've learned many times over.

Fridays are permanent days at the 'Rise (along with Tuesdays, and that third day could be any day, cool thanks Sunrise), so yet again I hung out. Gym, Phillies, Laundry, as the Northeast Philly guidos like to say. AW YEA GPL YEA. The Phillies let me listen to their loss for a frustrating three hours (though to be fair, they've won five of their last seven, so maybe this is the start of something), so I celebrated by walking my sorry butt to Arby's for some Reuben goodness. And then some beers at Champagne's.

There's quite a few reasons why Champagne's was appealing on this particular Friday night alone. One, beers were no more than two dollars, which is a nice palette cleanser after those freaking seven dollar beers anywhere else. Two, it is practically caddy-corner to Sunrise, so Pam could come right after work. Three, Friday and Saturday are karaoke nights, and we all know I love karaoke (and I had a desire to hear those sultry pipes of my talented girlfriend). Four, it's right next to Arby's, so, ya know, I had an excuse to go to Arby's.

Strangely enough, I was sitting at the bar for a while, and as I got up to use the restroom, I realized that I knew like a bunch of people sitting behind me, as they were the same folk with whom we attended the Las Vegas 51's game. So that was cool, not having to sit by myself at the bar for the rest of the night. And wouldn't you know it, Pammers got to the bar at like 9:45, because that's how that hospital works (I'm goading her into writing a blog post, see?).  Awesome night all around. They even let me sing "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down." Rest in Peace, Levon Helm.

How did we get to the gym Saturday morning? Don't ask me, but we did it. Not that I did anything. I think I sat on the stationary bike and pretended to do something for a bit while Pam beasted the treadmill. Then who knows, Saturday afternoon is another hole in the plot. Maybe we sat around by the pool? Hrmmm...

Dinner was nice. We went to a casino about halfway between here and the Strip called Ellis Island. Their cafe was pretty decent, with burgers and steak fries. It also doubled as a "brewery," with beers called "Light" and "Dark" and "Amber." I ordered a "Hefeweizen" which tasted like a straight up banana in dipped in seltzer water. The title of "Best Brewery in Nevada!" was obviously self-proclaimed and very much wrong. But the food was good, and really, no beer that I'll ever drink for the rest of my life will ever live up to Natty Light, so we were happy.

Our walk west on Flamingo continued to O'Sheas, which was having its Farewell Weekend. Yes, the Strip's only place to play beer bong with and get herpes from your fraternity brothers, while a midget in bright green clothing walks along the bar and pours a bright green liquid down your throat for a few bucks, is closing down. Free shots on the hour!

We met up with a few of our friends at this coveted location (and hey, it was actually pretty fun, if you hung out listening to the band instead of fist pumping for that bounce shot you just nailed on the pong table, bro), and the night went from there. First, it was to Margaritaville to listen to the tropical sounds of a Cheeseburger in Paradise. Next, it was the Cosmopolitan, which is the hip place to be for wild kids our age, I guess. We were there until 3 a.m., and seriously, the place was crowded well past 3 a.m. People do not sleep here.

And as a pleasant coda to the night, the foursome moved back to the Can, order some pizza, and hot tubbed with a whole bunch of other residents of the Can. Seriously, we had a packed hot tub at four a.m. People really do not sleep here.

Because of the nature of our weekend, we did nothing on Sunday. Seriously, nothing. It's not just I forgot what happened. We did nothing. All day. I didn't have a problem with it.

Monday... Ah, who am I kidding, we didn't do anything yesterday either. We both had work, and afterward we went to Gordon Biersch. Their happy hour is too good to pass up.

Today we worked. Then I decided to blog.

Whew! Now you're all caught up with our adventures.

Some thoughts to close us out:
- Seriously, I need a hair cut. I look awful / I look like if high school joe grew a beard.
- Those pics from Family Weekend are going to be posted pretty soon, promise.
- It's getting really hot out here. I don't like hot weather.
- We just ran out of Tastykakes. HOW ARE WE GOING TO SURVIVE SEND CHEESESTEAKS QUICK
- Sent my grandparents a postcard the other day. Somehow - I seriously don't know how this happened - I almost sent them a postcard featuring a casino flapper wearing only a thong. Thankfully, I noticed before it was sent out.
- Tomorrow we're going to one of those things where they try to sell you a timeshare, and we get some goodies in return. We were promised a two-night stay in one of 25 US cities (to be used on our drive home this summer), and a $100 gift certificate to a restaurant out here.
- This blog: 2.5 months, 48 posts, 3171 page views. My old blog: three years, 250+ posts... 1489 page views. Thanks for continuing to check in with us, folks. Saves you the trouble of having to hear all these boring stories in person when we get back.