What Happens in Vegas

How can I describe Strobie's Las Vegas 40th Birthday Extravaganza?  Fun?  Exhausting?  Tasty?  Hungover?  It was all of the above.  We had a great time.  But I'm keeping the salacious details a secret.  Some things a Mango never tells.  And what "Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas®," right?  Let's talk more generally about my overall impressions.  And about the food, bien sur.

Vegas is definitely a nighttime city.  It's "yo momma say you ugly" ugly during the day.  You definitely need the sun to go down and the neon to turn on to truly enjoy it.  Planet Hollywood was over the top.  The uber-loud music, throngs of people, in-your-face changing lights and chandelier columns, and in-your-nostrils room scent blowing through the air vents in the lobby told me that the weekend was going to full of nothing but trouble.  Shatterproof, the Jayhawk, and I were giggling like schoolgirls at the promise of Chimney Fallin' debauchery.  We giggled even more when we ran into Lady La La and decided to people watch at Cabo Wabo.  Viewing the mess of people from up high on the patio was high entertainment, especially when we noticed that the guy dressed up as Woody from Toy Story was falling asleep while standing up.  A few hours of drinking and eating really bad and expensive corporate Tex-Mex later (being joined by Miladius, birthday boy Strobie, and his friend, Vicky), we napped (we napped a lot during the weekend and realized that regular napping was crucial to surviving the weekend) and got ready for dinner at Central LV.  Which was pretty disappointing, actually, but I think that it was more disappointing that we were so disappointed in it, if that makes sense.  The space was incredible, and our server, Adam, was great, but Michel needs to fly back to Vegas to do some needed quality control, mis bonitos.  The deviled eggs with anchovies were delicious, and the smashed potatoes were creamy and dreamy.  Miladius' fried chicken was quite yummy, and the cheese balls were too good (as expected), but the steak tartare was soooo meh we barely touched it, the fries were cold, Strobie's gnocchi were down right inedible (gray and heavy and sauced with Ragu®), and the surprise Celebration Cakes were too cold to enjoy.  Walking through Caesars Palace in all its lovely Roman gaudiness made up for the blah dining experience, though.  That, and the dancing water in front of the Bellagio.  Undulating streams of water shooting into the air set to "Big Spender?!"  I never knew water could be so dirty!  And half-Rican go-go boy, Carlos Luis, at Krave more than made up for any of the night's previous transgressions.  So much so that I think we finally made it to bed at 4 ayem.  Maybe 5 (?).  I can't be sure.  My body was not in synch with the time the clock told me.

And that was all on Thursday.  Friday we ate at the PH buffet, which was so broke down palace bad that I can't stomach to write about it.  After some window shopping and hours of free beers and Keno at the casino, we napped before heading off to RM Seafood for Strobie's main event birthday dinner.  And that was an even bigger disappointment than dinner at Central.  I don't understand how dinner just for the Jayhawk and me was $330.  Were my 2 Budweisers $20 each?  Was my amuse-bouche of paper-thin cucumber and lox not gratis?  Did we pay extra for the 6 servers we had waiting on our table (who, BTW, had no choice but to wait on us because we were the only table in the entire upper level the last hour we were there)?  I mean, the foie gras "two ways" was delicious, but it wasn't the best thing I've eaten all year, and for the price, it should have been.  My entree halibut was totally upstaged by the 6 mini cauliflower florets that came with it.  The grilled baby octopus were fantastic, but I can get better in Madrid at my friend, Pablo's, dive bar for pennies on the dollar I spent.  And the star of the night was the Jayhawk's...wait for it...gnocchi with braised beef short rib ragu.  The gnocchi were the light and pillowy and melted in your mouth.  The ragu was rich and flavorful and perfectly savory.  But, again, for a meat dish to be the best dish at the table at a seafood restaurant?  Something ain't right.  Like our close-to $1000 group total.  I was so mad!  Thank goodness I ran into Manny Pacquiao at the Mandalay Bay casino.  He's so tiny and bad-ass.  That made me happy.  As did the late-night drinks back at Central and weebling and wobbling back to our hotel room with Shatterproof while the Jayhawk laughed at us as he stayed behind with the nice Welsh couple we met at the bar.  I think that was at 3:30 ayem.  And it would have been earlier had Shatterproof and I not gotten lost for 30 minutes in the PH casino.  I smile about it now.

Saturday was a day of breakfast (breakfast pizza [way too salty], coffee [mmm...Sanka], orange juice [Tang]) at the PBR Grill, and napping and vegging on the bed watching hours and hours of VH1.  That night we did the buffet (feh) and the Carnivale show (I loved it, it was so bad) at the Rio and a quick drink at the gorgeous (gorgeous!) Cosmopolitan before calling it a night and a weekend.

All in all, Vegas was fine.  I'm glad the Jayhawk and I went with such good friends and for such a big occassion.  But I don't think I'll be going back.  It's way too spendy for such mediocrity.  Unless it's to see Curtis Luis shakin' his money maker on the podium, again.  Now that I'd go back for.

La Semana in News #18

I don't think this recipe is in the Betty Crocker cookbook.

Credit woes for credit unions.

KC area breaks 2,000,000.

All those people will need to be fed. Sloppy Joe's are a good way to do that.

The jury let Anibal go?! On all counts?!

Today in 1873.

Where are Ricans gonna find boxes to use as their luggage now?

Selena to the rescue (as in Lopez and stray Rican dogs).

Them's the Breaks

Much like the world economy, my Internets were broken for the past few days. And it was no bueno, mis bonitos. I've spent my time watching endless hours of reruns on HGTV, Food Network, and the Travel Channel, and being educated on the horrors of child abuse in Spain thanks to the lack of Web access and the lack of new episodes of my shows on regular network TV. But I did learn that no recession is a good recession and that no good magenta is a real magenta. Both are mind tricks, much like how HTC is tricking me by releasing their new GPhone on Vodafone and Telefónica with no plans to let us officially play with it here in the States. HTC: I love you. Why do you do you toy with me so? I want some Magic in my life, too.* At least Art Lebedev will let me have some verbal time in my life. For $211.54. But I can still have it.

Back to the magenta thing for a second, though. If magenta isn't a real color, then what color is this blog? And what color is my new argyle sweater that I hold so dear? I thought I was being all non-DC and cool by owning it. Does this now mean that I'm totally anti-cool because I'm simply imagining that the sweater even exists? And have I fooled those around me by seeing it, too? Or maybe it's the ultimate in mind tricks that Banana Republic's got us all believing in the sweater? Curses to you, retail fashion sorcerers!

(*Article en español)

Update!: Magenta is a color, after all.

Que No Cunda el Pánico

That's what Prezzie Obama asked us to do in these troubled economic times at his first press conference last night. We need to worry, of course, but we need to channel that worry into positive action and not let it explode into panic or despair. So, don't go the way of the Wall Street brokers who facilitated the vote of no-confidence as soon as today's news broke that the stimulus package had passed. And definitely don't go the way of Chris Brown and go beat up on your Princess RiRis. If anything, beat up on the A-Roid and his stoopidity for causing that reporter to ask Obama about steroids in baseball when there are more important things to worry about. Jeebus...such a douche.

(Keep Calm and Carry On poster available at Barter Books. Read story of it here. Me wanny.)

¿Qué pasa, USA?

First comes word from Overland Park that trouble's brewing just underneath the official surface over at Sprint. And then comes word that even Uncle Karl is feelin' the pinch in the economy (in his own special way, bien sur). What's happening in this pretty world of ours?

Let Your Body Move to the Music

This is the story: Vogue took out a full 2-page ad in the Sunday Times proclaiming how everything is hunky dory there. Does this smack of desperation to anyone other than me? Although maybe Uncle Karl directed Anna to take out the ad to prove to the world that the economy doesn't touch him or her. I wonder if Carine took the move as Anna's "bring it, bizzatch."

Talk about Meta

If there's anything good that comes out of big box stores and how they're crumbling because of these hard economic times, it's that some ingenious individuals are using those empty boxes for better purposes. I'm still waiting to go shop at Circuit City's uber liquidation sale while eating some Spam sandwiches from the Museum, though.

On Politics and Potato Chips

Here I am, once again, agreeing with what a conservative commentator has to say. And this time it's George Will. "One excellent result of this election cycle is that public financing of presidential campaigns now seems sillier than ever." Thank you, George, for asking Johnny to shut the feck up already about Barack's spendiness. No one's listening.

Pretty Pictures Version 10.24.08

Me no feel likey ranting about craziness in The Politics (McCain Cut Nut: I'm lookin' at you) or craziness in The Moneys (Alan G: I'm lookin' at you) or craziness in The Fashions (Donatella: I'm lookin' at you) or craziness in the Rican Politics Fashions (Anibal: I can't be bothered to look at you). So, I leave you instead with today's Pretty Pictures: Noah and the Whale's "Shape of My Heart." Makes me smile on a gray day like today. Hope it makes you smile, too.

(Gracias to The District for the Rican news.)

$150K for What Now?

Now this is who Andre, Valentino, and Karl need to beat to a purple pulp. $150,000 spent by the RNC to wardrobe La Palin and her minion?! WTF?! "Nothing says Main Street like Saks Fifth Avenue," indeed. It doesn't even matter that it's all going to charity at the end of the campaign. This is too disingenuous even for Repubs. And why the feck can't she buy her own demmed clothes for her and her kids when there are too many mothers out there who can barely afford to clothe or even feed their children? She be making 'nuff coin by selling Alaska's liquid natural gas to the Japanese, onetime. But La Palin's got the freeloading down masterfully, so this is just par for the course, I guess.

I just wish she would have made better fashion choices. If you're going to spend $150K on clothes, make them count. The clothes should pop. Hers don't even fizzle. Pffft...

Oh! But look at it this way. "If Sarah Palin's $150,000 wardrobe had a life of its own, it would get a tax cut from a President Obama." Ha!

(Photo coutersy of BET)

I Want My Two Dollars!

This is exactly what I've been thinking ever since the great economic stimulus package (because it's not a bailout) was first announced. How no one's called it out for what it is until now is beyond me. "The Bush administration, having entered office as social conservatives, leaves office as conservative socialists,..."

Pretty Pictures Version 10.09.08

I can't get this song out of my head today. So, today's Pretty Pictures are MGMT's "Kids." It makes me think of little kids playing nice in a sandbox on a sunny day. Unlike how Brazil and Argentina play. They banished us from their box (drrrty...). I can't say that I blame them, though.