The latest Vegas audition listing:
Cools Entertainment is looking for specific individuals for atmoshere dancing and part of a new show for a center strip casino:
-Female 300+ pounds, tattoos and piercings a plus
-Female little people
-Female 60+ years in age ( if you have a cane or walker thats ok too )
-Male cross dresser
-Female asian dancers will be topless in most numbers.
I suppose I can start bulking up. I'm getting older as I sit here. The years should make me shorter. So, in a few decades, I can be a candidate for a few of those positions. Gonna get me a fancy walker...
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Oh, to be a Chicken.
I've heard it said that when a bird poops on you, it's good luck. Now, I'm not a superstitious person. I think this one came about as a means of trying to make a person feel better about getting pooped on. 'Cause, seriously, what's crappier than getting pooped on? So, last week I went to the mail place to visit Van. He wasn't in, which made me sad. His Ex was there, and I think she was giving a Russian language lesson to the guy she was sitting across from. I didn't want to interrupt to ask about Van (especially since the two have been going through a divorce--extra fun when you own a business together!!--and she was concerned at one point that I might be "the other woman"). But I had a package slip in my mailbox, so I approached the counter and smiled and handed it to her. She didn't really look at me, just took the slip with a limp hand then sat, as if deciding whether or not the slip was legit. "What's the name?" she said, her Russian accent perfectly complementing her cold tone of voice. The guy sitting at the counter said to The Ex, "I think her package is in the back, don't you?" in a manner that I found a bit disconcerting. Was there a Russian mobster in the back room or something? The Ex seemed confused, but the guy kept it up, "Yeah, send her to the back to get her package." Umm, what the...but then I listened, and I heard chirping. Lots of teeny little chirping sounds coming from the back room. "I think he wants you to see what's in the back room," The Ex mumbled, in a none-too-friendly way. I hesitated, finding the whole situation to be kind of weird. But the teeny chirps got me, I had to see what was making that noise!
I headed back and turned into the room, windowless and dark but for a lamp on the floor, pointed into a grey basin. Two little girls looked up when I entered, and one immediately approached me, saying, "This one is Cheep Cheep. She's the only one I know because she's the only one that's pooped on me." In her hand was a tiny baby chick, no bigger than the hand itself. And in the basin, there were her sisters and brothers (but Cheep Cheep's human-friend told me that most of the babies were girls, that's just the way they get made). There were at least 20 of them, mostly golden fuzz, though about 6 or 7 were black and grey. They chirped away in the basin, the heat of the lamp upon them like noon-time sun in the winter desert, bouncing off of each other as they tried to hop to a new spot. Here, in this dark room, these chicks knew nothing other than the chick-filled, grey-walled world they inhabited, with the occasional super-huge human head hovering above in the darkness. They had no understanding of the world I lived in. Beyond my gargantuan head, they saw only darkness, a starless night that extended deep into Forever. And for a moment, looking down on their tiny beaks and teeny legs, I wanted to trade places. Shrink down to a golden fuzzy newborn (with no understanding of the life of egg-laying servitude that lay before me, or the possible appearance on some day's dinner table) and bounce around in wonder, feeling the warmth, eating the seed, pooping wherever I may please.
"Do you wanna hold her?" I was brought out of my daydream by Cheep Cheep's human, who was holding her hands towards me with the baby chick staring out from her fingers, probably wondering, "What the..." "Oh yes, I wanna hold her!" Though I admit to being nervous. I've always been nervous around babies, human, chicken, all of 'em. I was the baby in the family, see, and it wasn't until I was a troubled teenager that I first found myself with a baby being offered to me, "You wanna hold him?" Hell no, I didn't want to hold him! I was terrified! What if I broke it? Really, it was the idea of a newborn, all that powerful life-stuff ahead of him, that freaked me out. I was a teenager, and thoughts and fears of child-rearing were a common lunch-table topic for me and my too-old-too-young girlfriends. Having a baby thrust towards me had a physical effect: my body suddenly went cold, the sounds of the room were warped, and my mouth had the texture of damp cotton. It was all I could do to squeak out a "no" and take a step backwards. But behind me was a wall, and the baby came closer, insisting to be held, until I had to find a way of raising my voice and making my "No" mean no. (It was another 14 years before I finally gave in and held a baby, my nephew Dylan, who was born just a few days before my "You seriously STILL haven't held a baby?" birthday.) Babies freak me out! But the fuzzy animal babies, well, I'm a sucker.
I took Cheep Cheep into my hands ("Don't squeeze or she'll pop!" the little human told me) and stared down at her little head, no bigger than the tip of my thumb. So cute! She was vibrating with energy, her little eyes looking this way and that, as the world outside of the heat-lamp began coming into focus. I tipped my head down towards her, until the tip of my nose could rub the top of her head. I wanted to eat her up, she was so cute! So tiny, so new, so full of wonder. Oh, to be a baby chick... And then she pooped on me. Right in my hand. And I was done with Cheep Cheep.
As I washed my hands in the bathroom, I looked into the mirror, and I smiled. Life is funny, you know? I went to get my mail, and a chicken pooped in my hand. You never know what life's got in store for you. 30 minutes later, I would be walking into the beginning of what's been a really hard week (I'm still waiting to cash in my A-Bird-Pooped-On-Me good luck). But at that very moment, washing Lucky Poop off my hands, I couldn't help but marvel at the very idea of being alive. Every day is a new adventure, whether I want the adventure or not. It can be hard to appreciate, when the adventure is of the Novice level. It can be hard to navigate, when the level is at Expert. Rarely am I prepared for the obstacles, the bends and turns along the way. At times, I manage tricky terrain like a mountain lion. At others, I manage to screw up a straight path. And for all the days I wish I could just be a baby chicken, there are days when I am revelling in my humanity.
But, if anyone's out there, doling out the Lucky Poop payroll, I can really use some good fortune right about now...
I headed back and turned into the room, windowless and dark but for a lamp on the floor, pointed into a grey basin. Two little girls looked up when I entered, and one immediately approached me, saying, "This one is Cheep Cheep. She's the only one I know because she's the only one that's pooped on me." In her hand was a tiny baby chick, no bigger than the hand itself. And in the basin, there were her sisters and brothers (but Cheep Cheep's human-friend told me that most of the babies were girls, that's just the way they get made). There were at least 20 of them, mostly golden fuzz, though about 6 or 7 were black and grey. They chirped away in the basin, the heat of the lamp upon them like noon-time sun in the winter desert, bouncing off of each other as they tried to hop to a new spot. Here, in this dark room, these chicks knew nothing other than the chick-filled, grey-walled world they inhabited, with the occasional super-huge human head hovering above in the darkness. They had no understanding of the world I lived in. Beyond my gargantuan head, they saw only darkness, a starless night that extended deep into Forever. And for a moment, looking down on their tiny beaks and teeny legs, I wanted to trade places. Shrink down to a golden fuzzy newborn (with no understanding of the life of egg-laying servitude that lay before me, or the possible appearance on some day's dinner table) and bounce around in wonder, feeling the warmth, eating the seed, pooping wherever I may please.
"Do you wanna hold her?" I was brought out of my daydream by Cheep Cheep's human, who was holding her hands towards me with the baby chick staring out from her fingers, probably wondering, "What the..." "Oh yes, I wanna hold her!" Though I admit to being nervous. I've always been nervous around babies, human, chicken, all of 'em. I was the baby in the family, see, and it wasn't until I was a troubled teenager that I first found myself with a baby being offered to me, "You wanna hold him?" Hell no, I didn't want to hold him! I was terrified! What if I broke it? Really, it was the idea of a newborn, all that powerful life-stuff ahead of him, that freaked me out. I was a teenager, and thoughts and fears of child-rearing were a common lunch-table topic for me and my too-old-too-young girlfriends. Having a baby thrust towards me had a physical effect: my body suddenly went cold, the sounds of the room were warped, and my mouth had the texture of damp cotton. It was all I could do to squeak out a "no" and take a step backwards. But behind me was a wall, and the baby came closer, insisting to be held, until I had to find a way of raising my voice and making my "No" mean no. (It was another 14 years before I finally gave in and held a baby, my nephew Dylan, who was born just a few days before my "You seriously STILL haven't held a baby?" birthday.) Babies freak me out! But the fuzzy animal babies, well, I'm a sucker.
I took Cheep Cheep into my hands ("Don't squeeze or she'll pop!" the little human told me) and stared down at her little head, no bigger than the tip of my thumb. So cute! She was vibrating with energy, her little eyes looking this way and that, as the world outside of the heat-lamp began coming into focus. I tipped my head down towards her, until the tip of my nose could rub the top of her head. I wanted to eat her up, she was so cute! So tiny, so new, so full of wonder. Oh, to be a baby chick... And then she pooped on me. Right in my hand. And I was done with Cheep Cheep.
As I washed my hands in the bathroom, I looked into the mirror, and I smiled. Life is funny, you know? I went to get my mail, and a chicken pooped in my hand. You never know what life's got in store for you. 30 minutes later, I would be walking into the beginning of what's been a really hard week (I'm still waiting to cash in my A-Bird-Pooped-On-Me good luck). But at that very moment, washing Lucky Poop off my hands, I couldn't help but marvel at the very idea of being alive. Every day is a new adventure, whether I want the adventure or not. It can be hard to appreciate, when the adventure is of the Novice level. It can be hard to navigate, when the level is at Expert. Rarely am I prepared for the obstacles, the bends and turns along the way. At times, I manage tricky terrain like a mountain lion. At others, I manage to screw up a straight path. And for all the days I wish I could just be a baby chicken, there are days when I am revelling in my humanity.
But, if anyone's out there, doling out the Lucky Poop payroll, I can really use some good fortune right about now...
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Back to reality...again.
A new year. A new beginning. And yet, seems I'm swimming in the same old muck.
But at least I got away for awhile!!
A week on a cruiseship. Wow. What a trip. I ended 2008 in Guatemala, started 2009 in Belize. And in both places, I got a chance to see how the locals live. Which was an excellent reminder of how good we've got it here in the good ol' U S of A. At least, it was a reminder for me. I may be wading through heaping tons of debt, but my floor ain't made of dirt. And all that debt is a result of opportunities that most people never even dream of. I kept wondering, as our insanely large cruiseship pulled into these ports, what do the locals imagine this boat to be? Here comes this giant floating city, full of people who want to buy discounted diamonds (every port we went to had a Diamonds International store, and many of our fellow passengers made it their first stop). How does a kid living in a tin-roofed shack make sense of this? I have a hard time making sense of it myself. For an entire week, I lived on a boat with 2000 passengers and 1000 crew members, with nothing to do but eat massive quantities of food, listen to any number of live bands or DJ's, and spend the days wandering around a new country. It was weird. I didn't really know what to expect. The first day, I was in awe of everything. So much food! A big theatre right on the ship! Shuffle board! Ping pong! Entertainment everywhere! But after a few days, it was all rather repetitive. The entertainment was fine, nothing spectacular, pretty cheesy, actually. And the people were...well, I didn't meet many people. There were a lot of families on board, multi-generational, little kids and grandparents, everyone moving in bunches. Not many people in our age range. And I often felt, overhearing conversations, that there were not many people I could relate to. For one thing, everyone seemed to be buying diamonds! All the ports we pulled into were rather empty of anything to do besides shop. Well, they had lots of excursions you could take to go explore the area a bit. And if you wanted to do anything besides shop, you'd better take an excursion. We took a couple, but we were on a budget so we were rather limited. My parents gave us some excursion money as a Christmas gift, so we checked out some Mayan ruins in Belize and did a tour of the port towns in Guatemala. They were the cheapest tours we could take. And they were great. Really fascinating. An excellent glimpse of how the locals live. Except we were stuck on a bus with people asking embarrassing questions of our tour guides, like, "Where does the middle class live?" "Do kids go to school?" "Do bodies get embalmed before they get buried?" Sigh. I'm pretty sure "embalm" isn't a word familiar to our Guatemalan tour guide. She had a beautiful, gold-capped smile, and a fair grasp of the English language. But come on! And there were lots of complaints on the bus about the fact that we didn't stop anywhere to shop. Seems that's what people like to do on cruises. The whole time on the boat, there was a constant sales pitch. "Come to the gift shop! Buy your raffle tickets! Don't miss our port shopping talk with Jenna! Today at noon, emeralds on sale in the main lobby! Make a deposit on your next cruise, receive a free gift!" Every time we sat anywhere, the cocktail servers were on us, "Today's special cocktail is The Ball Drop, only $9!" Even soda cost $2 a glass, but they did offer a $50 unlimited cup at the top of the cruise. Alex consumes massive quantities of soda, so he bought the cup. And every time he asked to get it filled, he was met with an angry look. I'm pretty sure all drink servers were told NOT to refill those cups. Especially in the restaurants. There were 9 restaurants on the ship, only 4 of which were free (the other 5 had a cover charge of $15-25 per person). 1 was the buffet, another was a burger joint, and the other two had table service. We generally did the buffet for breakfast and lunch, as it was easy. But for dinner, we'd put on some nice clothes and head to one of the better free establishments. And as soon as we were seated, a server would present a bottle of Pellegrino and a bottle of Evian, asking which we'd like. "Just tap water, please," I'd say, as we were determined not to spend money on things like water. Dirty look from the server. Then another server would approach, "What kind of wine will you be drinking tonite? Or would you like to celebrate with champagne?" "No thank you, but I'd like a diet Coke, please," and Alex would present his unlimited Coke cup, knowing that they wouldn't offer to fill it if we didn't force it on them. Again, dirty look. I'm guessing the servers got a commission. I don't know, but it actually made for an unpleasant experience. One server, after we said No to the wine, said, "Pass pass pass" in a snarky manner and walked away. That was our first night. Now, I know that most people going on a cruise are there to party, and they plan on spending a good deal of money. But we got this cruise for free and had no money to spend. So to spend a week listening to overhead announcements about the great deals available on precious stones, or buy 2 get 1 free Bingo, or special deals on your next cruise, well, it was pretty unsavory. Kind of like being at a non-stop Timeshare pitch. By the end of it, when we got our bill, I'm pretty sure we had the lowest tab on the boat. All we bought was a couple of low-priced excursions, some overpriced Tylenol in the gift shop, and our daily service charge (which, at $10 per person per day, seemed rather low to me, the only thing on the boat that was underpriced). Don't think we'll be offered another free cruise anytime soon. Though our cruise director, Boozy Soozy, did everything in her power to get us to buy our next trip.
But the trip was very good for us. We went to some beautiful places, got to see the bluest water I've ever seen, spent days in the sun and nights under the stars. It was an entire week of no phones, no computer, no ability for Alex to work. It kind of felt like the first time I'd seen him in months. Sure, we're together every day in Vegas. But his work consumes him, and I've got no life to speak of in Vegas, so our time together has been rather distracted and unsatisfying. Now, we had days of nothing but each other, and it was exactly what we needed. We finally had a chance to talk about the future a bit, life after the Superbowl. We came to Vegas with a 6-month lease and said we'd figure out the next step along the way. But there's no time to talk when we're in Vegas, no time for Alex to turn off the job. So, there were many hours spent under a starry sky, trying to make sense of the life we're living. What do we want to do? Where do we want to be? What can we afford? Let me tell you, these conversations were not simple. The more we talked, the more complicated things became. But we definitely have a better sense of what's what. Not that I'm prepared to speak out loud any decisions made (or pondered anyway). But I do know that change is a-brewin'. It's all rather terrifying, but I have faith that things will work out. 2009 has to be a better year than 2008. Doesn't it? Please??
I am unable to comment any further, due to pending legal matters. But let me just say this, turns out our troubles are far from over. Happy freaking new year.
But at least I got away for awhile!!
A week on a cruiseship. Wow. What a trip. I ended 2008 in Guatemala, started 2009 in Belize. And in both places, I got a chance to see how the locals live. Which was an excellent reminder of how good we've got it here in the good ol' U S of A. At least, it was a reminder for me. I may be wading through heaping tons of debt, but my floor ain't made of dirt. And all that debt is a result of opportunities that most people never even dream of. I kept wondering, as our insanely large cruiseship pulled into these ports, what do the locals imagine this boat to be? Here comes this giant floating city, full of people who want to buy discounted diamonds (every port we went to had a Diamonds International store, and many of our fellow passengers made it their first stop). How does a kid living in a tin-roofed shack make sense of this? I have a hard time making sense of it myself. For an entire week, I lived on a boat with 2000 passengers and 1000 crew members, with nothing to do but eat massive quantities of food, listen to any number of live bands or DJ's, and spend the days wandering around a new country. It was weird. I didn't really know what to expect. The first day, I was in awe of everything. So much food! A big theatre right on the ship! Shuffle board! Ping pong! Entertainment everywhere! But after a few days, it was all rather repetitive. The entertainment was fine, nothing spectacular, pretty cheesy, actually. And the people were...well, I didn't meet many people. There were a lot of families on board, multi-generational, little kids and grandparents, everyone moving in bunches. Not many people in our age range. And I often felt, overhearing conversations, that there were not many people I could relate to. For one thing, everyone seemed to be buying diamonds! All the ports we pulled into were rather empty of anything to do besides shop. Well, they had lots of excursions you could take to go explore the area a bit. And if you wanted to do anything besides shop, you'd better take an excursion. We took a couple, but we were on a budget so we were rather limited. My parents gave us some excursion money as a Christmas gift, so we checked out some Mayan ruins in Belize and did a tour of the port towns in Guatemala. They were the cheapest tours we could take. And they were great. Really fascinating. An excellent glimpse of how the locals live. Except we were stuck on a bus with people asking embarrassing questions of our tour guides, like, "Where does the middle class live?" "Do kids go to school?" "Do bodies get embalmed before they get buried?" Sigh. I'm pretty sure "embalm" isn't a word familiar to our Guatemalan tour guide. She had a beautiful, gold-capped smile, and a fair grasp of the English language. But come on! And there were lots of complaints on the bus about the fact that we didn't stop anywhere to shop. Seems that's what people like to do on cruises. The whole time on the boat, there was a constant sales pitch. "Come to the gift shop! Buy your raffle tickets! Don't miss our port shopping talk with Jenna! Today at noon, emeralds on sale in the main lobby! Make a deposit on your next cruise, receive a free gift!" Every time we sat anywhere, the cocktail servers were on us, "Today's special cocktail is The Ball Drop, only $9!" Even soda cost $2 a glass, but they did offer a $50 unlimited cup at the top of the cruise. Alex consumes massive quantities of soda, so he bought the cup. And every time he asked to get it filled, he was met with an angry look. I'm pretty sure all drink servers were told NOT to refill those cups. Especially in the restaurants. There were 9 restaurants on the ship, only 4 of which were free (the other 5 had a cover charge of $15-25 per person). 1 was the buffet, another was a burger joint, and the other two had table service. We generally did the buffet for breakfast and lunch, as it was easy. But for dinner, we'd put on some nice clothes and head to one of the better free establishments. And as soon as we were seated, a server would present a bottle of Pellegrino and a bottle of Evian, asking which we'd like. "Just tap water, please," I'd say, as we were determined not to spend money on things like water. Dirty look from the server. Then another server would approach, "What kind of wine will you be drinking tonite? Or would you like to celebrate with champagne?" "No thank you, but I'd like a diet Coke, please," and Alex would present his unlimited Coke cup, knowing that they wouldn't offer to fill it if we didn't force it on them. Again, dirty look. I'm guessing the servers got a commission. I don't know, but it actually made for an unpleasant experience. One server, after we said No to the wine, said, "Pass pass pass" in a snarky manner and walked away. That was our first night. Now, I know that most people going on a cruise are there to party, and they plan on spending a good deal of money. But we got this cruise for free and had no money to spend. So to spend a week listening to overhead announcements about the great deals available on precious stones, or buy 2 get 1 free Bingo, or special deals on your next cruise, well, it was pretty unsavory. Kind of like being at a non-stop Timeshare pitch. By the end of it, when we got our bill, I'm pretty sure we had the lowest tab on the boat. All we bought was a couple of low-priced excursions, some overpriced Tylenol in the gift shop, and our daily service charge (which, at $10 per person per day, seemed rather low to me, the only thing on the boat that was underpriced). Don't think we'll be offered another free cruise anytime soon. Though our cruise director, Boozy Soozy, did everything in her power to get us to buy our next trip.
But the trip was very good for us. We went to some beautiful places, got to see the bluest water I've ever seen, spent days in the sun and nights under the stars. It was an entire week of no phones, no computer, no ability for Alex to work. It kind of felt like the first time I'd seen him in months. Sure, we're together every day in Vegas. But his work consumes him, and I've got no life to speak of in Vegas, so our time together has been rather distracted and unsatisfying. Now, we had days of nothing but each other, and it was exactly what we needed. We finally had a chance to talk about the future a bit, life after the Superbowl. We came to Vegas with a 6-month lease and said we'd figure out the next step along the way. But there's no time to talk when we're in Vegas, no time for Alex to turn off the job. So, there were many hours spent under a starry sky, trying to make sense of the life we're living. What do we want to do? Where do we want to be? What can we afford? Let me tell you, these conversations were not simple. The more we talked, the more complicated things became. But we definitely have a better sense of what's what. Not that I'm prepared to speak out loud any decisions made (or pondered anyway). But I do know that change is a-brewin'. It's all rather terrifying, but I have faith that things will work out. 2009 has to be a better year than 2008. Doesn't it? Please??
I am unable to comment any further, due to pending legal matters. But let me just say this, turns out our troubles are far from over. Happy freaking new year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)