But regardless of other people’s purposes for visiting
Jeer: Now, I realize I’m starting out with what seems like it should be a cheer, but it’s not. You’d think the Vegas strip couldn’t possibly get any tackier than it already was, but it has. It’s gotten delightfully tacky. That’s right, there is now a Hooters Casino Hotel right across from the MGM. Here you can see it in all its glory, lovingly photographed by an obsessive fan. That’s right, folks, I admit it – I love Hooters. No, I am IN LOVE with Hooters. We’re involved, it’s that deep. Now, I understand that the Hooters franchise is most famous for… well, nothing that in any way involves food. But my love for Hooters is rooted in a deep and abiding passion for buffalo wings. And Hooters has AMAZING buffalo wings.
So why is this a jeer instead of a cheer? Because the schedule for the weekend didn’t allow for a trip to Hooters. I’m still crying a little inside, just thinking about the digestive ecstasy I missed. So sad.
Jeer: Walking through Excalibur on Saturday morning, I saw this horrible affront to human decency at a kiosk covered in neon-lit, blinking paraphernalia. Now, the blinking neon would have been bad enough, except that, as you can see, it clearly gets worse. Sadly, the flash of the camera was bright enough that you can’t really tell, but the entire logo on this hat is covered in a row of lights that flash blinking blue and white ALL THE TIME.
And I didn’t think Yankee fans could get more obnoxious.
Jeer: Seeser made me (okay, she didn’t make me, per se, but she strongly encouraged me to) play Star Wars Trivial Pursuit with her and her man. Fiance also joined us, and he and Seeser's man did very well. S. did okay, and I did really horribly. As in, not a single question right. The competitive sore loser in me is very upset, but the non-freak in me is glad I’m still normal enough to fail at Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. The afternoon wasn’t a total waste, however, as two phenomenal quotes came out of our various conversations that day:
S: “He offered to fly her to
Me: “They’re both islands?”
Me: “Oh, wait, no they’re not.”Then later:
S: “I was thinking of JFK – was there a crime in that?”
“Oh, I mean, besides the obvious one.”
Jeer: Mom101 wrote about the Isle of Misfit Toys. Lady M wrote about the Isle of Misfit Passengers. On the long drive home yesterday, Fiance and I found the Isle of Misfit Buses. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere on the 58 (yeah, that’s right, I said the 58 – you want to make something of it, crazy non-Socal people?). I wish I could have gotten a photo, but by the time I had collected myself from the shock we were out of shooting distance. But I promise you – this is where buses come to die. And it’s not like they come here to die a noble, peaceful death. They come to be plundered by punks and hooligans and left to rot as stinking, grafitti-covered carcasses. I think I might have nightmares for weeks about that place…
Jeer: Did I mention there’s a HOOTERS and I DIDN’T get to eat there? Seriously, I just don’t think I can get over that.
Oh, Hooters – I pine for you.
Hmmm… that was a lot of jeering. Well, fortunately, there’s a big cheer that trumps them all.
Cheer: Fiance’s great and I love him. That’s all.