Breasts-O-Plenty

Once we conquer the milestone of sixteen, our sights move on to grander, more mature dreams. For some it's college, for most it's Las Vegas. Awe, the bright lights, free drinks, topless chorus lines, and what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. The town that never sleeps. It's like a perpetual Spring break. It'll go on as long as you so desire or until you're broke.
It's one of the top relocation choices of retiree's from all walks. My mother retired there. It wasn't her first choice. In fact, it may not have entered into her mind until the difficult sale of her Utah home forced her to stay nearby just in case it fell through which was, that's right, Vegas.

During that time she became intimate with the other Vegas. The one filled with Star Trek conventions, book signing's, gallery openings and little known outlying areas filled with rich inconsequential histories, and let us pay homage to the endless parade of buffets with 2 for 1 coupons that city is so famous for.

Our first stop on our trip was The San Remo Hotel and Casino conveniently located a spitting distance from the International Airport and The Strip. We arrived on Mothers Day. It was great. My uncle was also visiting from a galaxy far far away, called Ipswich. Yeah, that's a real name. It's in Sussex. Did I lose you again? Does England sound familiar? We'll go with that.
We did all the Mothers Day things that bring a smile to the face and a few other things. The best part was seeing my Mom. Then there were the other perks, my brother Steve, Uncle Doug and my sister Alice. She flew in from Burbank a few days earlier and was scheduled to stay at our hotel as well.

The hotel was nice enough, reasonable and close. However, it's internet site failed to mention it's dirty little secret. One that could spell controversy for a primary school teacher. I literally walked right into it. A big fat advertisement sporting breasts as big as my head at eye level inside the front door. Knockers. Or was it Hooter's? Anyway, the place is scheduled to make the change over to a hotel built on mammary glands. Oh dear. How was I going to tell Alice that I booked her a room in the future home of....
breasts-o-plenty? As it was, I wouldn't have to worry about it for long, she was ten paces behind me. She smiled and tried to hide the panic. She did a good job too until I insisted on picking up a paper in the lobby and the front page headline was something about a teachers second job at a casino being grounds for investigation and probably dismissal. Ouch. It read like the Spanish Inquisition. I just HAD to buy a paper, didn't I? Smooth.

Angry Public: Let's tie her to a boulder and throw her in Lake Mead!
Holier Than Thou'st's: Stone her to death!
School Board: How dare she supplement her meager income!
Judge:I only have one question before I pass sentence, do you do private parties?

We've removed some really anal dress codes and prayer from our schools since my day, so who cares if the third grade teacher wears pasties in her free time? Who's it hurting? Do you really think one of her students might catch her act? It's got to pay a whole lot more than the school district. I have a new found respect for the systems new scape goat. Think about it, she can't make more than $30,000 a year (if she's at the high end of the pay scale, which I doubt), and this woman chooses to swing nipple tassels in her spare time between planning curriculum and wiping our snot nosed kids faces just so she can afford the privilege of raising our intensely screwed up generation of me-me's and this is how we repay her, with a front page spread, just in case any of those 10 year old's didn't catch her show, they can bring in the article for current events or show-and-tell.

My sister braved the 3 day stay at the future Busts-R-Us. Our stay went unnoticed. we had a great time with everybody, had a tour of Wynn Towers, where Steve is working, checked in on our lion cubs at the MGM, took the Shark Reef tour and rode the new tram to the Sahara where John drove the Nascar simulator. He broke free of his usual old lady driving habits after a couple laps, not one car passed him, and he only died once or twice. All in all it would've been an okay race...had he been going in the right direction.
5/29/2005 1:44 AM
word count 804

A Priceless Character

Yeee-ha...I'm home! I just returned from an adventure filled vacation that took us to Vegas to see my Mother, to L.A. to see my sisters family and then to San Diego to visit one of my closest friends.

John is prone to motion sickness so Dramamine was the main staple in our emergency medical kit. In fact, it was the only one.

He wasn't looking forward to the movement filled trip I had planned. He dreaded it. He dreamt of turbulent planes, sinking ships being tossed about on a rough sea, theme park rides laced with regurgitations and worst of all, my driving in California traffic in an SUV with 4-wheel-drive with him in the passengers seat clutching the dash and hammering his foot to the floor in a pathetic attempt to avert disaster. Only one thing could've been worse, he said, that would be HIM driving in California traffic, the likes of which previously he could only imagine.

So far the only citified excitement in his life has been watching shows like Cops on late night television. It didn't prepare him for what I had in store. I think he expected car chases and shoot-outs, instead he got The Wonderful World of Disney, Lucy style. We even visited the I Love Lucy Museum in Universal Studios. As we moved through the exhibit I noticed the light come on in his eyes. All the things I had told him about my sister all these years finally jelled. Brightly colored images jiggled in his brain. All the stories of the zany things she does floated suspended like fruit cocktail, but even fruitier. I was so proud, he'd actually made the connection; not an easy thing to do for a farm boy of the old school that believes thinking outside the box will only land you behind bars of some sort, take your pick. He cultivated a lot of things in his life, but never his imagination.

Alice stood there smiling her bigger-than-life smile, oblivious to his revelation. So sweet, so innocent, so redheaded and so... damn... perky. I whispered to him "L-u-c-y...I'm h-o-me!". On a monitor behind her Lucy was dowsing a burning rubber nose into a coffee cup. Alice smiled and asked "What?", behind her permanently curled lips while Tinker Bell danced across her visor. All I could do was reach for my sport bottle while thinking how dry my mouth would be if I was that bubbly. I had to let a renegade giggle break free and told her what was lurking in the unsaid. We all shared a laugh.

I swive as well as others do:
I'm young, not yet deforme'd
My tender heart, sincere, and true,
Deserves not to be scorned.
(The Mock Song, by John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester, ca. 1676-77)

My sister is one-of-a-kind. I know I likened her to Lucy, she is like Lucy, only different. You see, Lucy was a real glamour doll with a giant sense of humor. My big sis is Lucy at 10, only she's fifty. She is so G-rated that her idea of sin, is sneaking a Hershey bar AND a Moo-latte.
Lucy was a Vogue cover girl, Alice makes it onto the school board bulletin board for inventive teaching.

Lucy wore the most stylish clothing; 3/4 sleeves were in.
Alice likes 3/4 sleeves because she's up to her elbows in finger paints daily. They are so not in right now but what does she care?

Lucy's hair was so beautifully done up in waves and curls and all things Barbie.
Alice grudgingly tends her unruly waves simply because other people mind when her wild flaming locks begin making a break for it. Style doesn't matter. She just wants everybody to shut up about it.

I've never been in any of Lucy's homes but I'd wager none of them were bursting with Disney figurines, snow globes and picture frames. Even the cats name is Disney. A site better than her husbands inventive use of species as actual names. A bird named Bird, cat named Cat. He's grown an imagination since then. Late bloomer.

Well, I have so much to tell you. I couldn't possibly get it all written down in one little entry so I'm sure you'll be hearing about our odyssey for quite some time. I tend to have sporadic recollections. Comes with age.
5/28/2005 0:27 AM
word count 728