Hubby and I thought it best to rent a car to drive ourselves to Hoover Dam. In reality, the dam isn't that far from Vegas and would afford us more time on the tour and in the visitors center. There are lots of interesting things to see, and I missed quite a bit last time I went, due to an unforeseen event, so I wanted to see it all.
We got out of Vegas, somehow, and found the highway that would lead us to the dam. We pulled out the GPS because we missed the turn. The GPS was not functioning and kept giving the message that no satellite could be found. Hello? We were still in town, not in the middle of nowhere, so why wouldn't the darn thing work? A call to computer guru brother in law, would solve the problem, we hoped. Nope, he wasn't sure why the darn thing wasn't finding the satellite either. We had a nice chat with him anyway.
It is a nice drive to the dam, if you like looking at nothing. It is just a bunch of rocks, maybe like a really hot moon. Nearing the dam, we could see the new, scary bridge across the river. I won't go on it but it is supposed to alleviate the congestion that the bridge road has. It looks like something that would fall down in a strong wind, though I'm sure it is a bit more safe than that. I still won't ever go on it.
We pay the parking lady $7 and park the rental car. It is hot and we are sweating before we get into the sun. I, of course, have to pee. There is, of course, a line a mile long in the ladies room. There are no bathrooms in the dam so you are out of luck. Have I mentioned that it is scorching hot???
The extended tour was leaving soon, so we paid and got our tickets. Only, it wasn't a ticket, it was a yellow plastic hardhat. Not even a real one, a Bob the Builder type, flimsy. I laughed at the people that actually wore them, I, at least at the forethought to ask if it was mandatory.
The tour begins and I already have to pee. The dam guide stuffs a million of us in the elevator and off we go. People are manhandling my pg tummy and I didn't like it. I could barely breathe. We are led around like a group of preschoolers, examining nooks and crannies that should have been left to rodents or at least something smaller than the average human. I had to duck in places and I am not a shining example of height.
The guide points out all of the fine Art Deco details. I must ask, why does the, damn dam have to have terazzo floors? It is all very nice but I still have to pee and believe that there are more elevator rides to endure. In one place, we walked down a narrow, rounded tunnel to an open set of louvers. I wouldn't have minded having a gander, but there was this grate covered hole that you had to cross. I looked down it and could not see any trace of a bottom. Sorry, unless you want to back everyone up so I can take a running jump over it, not happening for me. I hung back, sweating and needing to pee.
Don't know if I mentioned that it was hot! My back was sweating and I am horrified to mention this fact.
Finally, we were all wedged in the damn dam's elevators and deposited in the middle of the dam, on the road. It was hot! I took a quick look and sat down. Yep, right down on the sidewalk in the blazing sun. The guide pronounced the tour over and I bolted for the nearest building with a bathroom and AC. Turns out it was the original visitor center. It was cool and that is really all I was looking for. Once my sweaty husband caught up with me, it was time for the show to begin. All 4 of us that showed up, sat in chairs that hadn't been replaced in 50 years. They were hard and we had no room to stretch our legs. This was a place that was built when the average American must have been barely 5' tall.
A huge, and ancient, topographic map lit up and told us the story of every damn, dam for several hundred miles. It was nice to get some air but the story wasn't that interesting. Maybe the new visitor center would be more interesting.
I have to waddle across the street and traffic to get to the new place. It is pretty neat and has a bonus elevator to get to the top. You could see the scary new bridge and straight down the dam. It was neat but hot so I went back in and sat on a bench that was conveniently placed on a vent! Bonus! Pretty soon, there was the sound of a siren. I have to believe it was an ambulance sent to help a pregnant woman that was dehydrated and needed to pee.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Eating for 2 or 3, or maybe even 4
One of the greatest things about Las Vegas is the food. Yes, the food was one thing I was looking forward to. I have been to a few of the buffets and enjoyed them. For instance, the Rio breakfast buffet features all of the customary breakfast food and then some. I vividly remember eating cannoli for breakfast. Although I love cannoli, I love something on the Rio buffet better than that. They had Eggs Benedict! I love, love, love Eggs Benedict. I could eat several for breakfast each day, no matter that my arteries are hardening and am nearing heart attack stages. Yes, they are that good. We have made them at home on occasion, but it just doesn't compare with the fact that I could eat 10 at once and more would just magically appear in the tray. We didn't make it to the Rio's eggs Benedict feast, I have to admit, I was a little bummed. The buffet wasn't too shabby at the Monte Carlo, and it was free! You can't get better than that.
Ah, the Bellagio! The fountains are beautiful, the shops loaded with stuff I can't afford, and don't really want, the buffet, GIANT! Hubby and I got their early, my guess was that we would have to wait. We had our tickets for Mystere and didn't want to be late and wanted enough time to fill our faces. Upon arrival, there was a line. It wasn't bad and became even better when a random guy gave us the nod and said it was every bit worth the wait. We forked over the $80 and were led to our table, just a few steps from what I can only call a culinary heaven. We grabbed our plates and went off in search of sustenance. WOW! I started off with about 100 pieces of different kinds of cheese. Wound my way around the massive place and added Chicken Wellington, tortellini, steak, peeled shrimp, and the best, crab legs! They were actually already split so that lifting the sweet crabmeat was easy and didn't require a million Wet Wipes. We ate with the relish of a death row inmate. While hubby was off reloading, I managed to suck in a piece of the delicate crust of the Chicken Wellington. Now, here is the dilemma. Hubby and I went to Abuelo's one night. They have good chips so, of course, I was loading up. One sliver of chip lodged in my throat. I could talk etc but could feel it poking me in the throat! No amount of coughing could dislodge the piece. At this point, I am thinking I am going to die at Abuelo's. I excuse myself and race to the ladies room, dodging the unsuspecting patrons waiting to get a table. A lot of them didn't bother to move for the woman holding her mouth and dashing around like an idiot. How rude. Anyway, I get into the stall and proceed to throw up the offending piece of chip. Cheese comes out of my nose. I am disgusted. I don't throw up, that's a fact, this time I had to make the exception or risk death, or you know, puking on the table or something. Back to the chicken, I wasn't sure what to do. I drank a bunch and cleared my throat so much that I thought the Asian family next to me was going to move. I started to get a little irritated when the all pulled out their cameras and started snapping pictures of the pregnant, choking American woman. Nothing against anyone Asian, mind you. Eventually, I somehow managed to swallow the offending piece of crust and went back to the buffet for seconds or maybe it was thirds. The family actually asked my darling husband to take their pictures! I guess they figured it was the least they could do since we were practically related. It isn't every day that another tourist hacks up all kind of phlegm in your direction.
We finished with dessert/desserts. They were all such cute little designer treats. All in tiny little, ruffled cups, so small that I could easily line a dinner plate with 10 and still have a little room left over.
You can't beat Vegas for eating. Not everyone gambles, but everyone eats. And eats, and eats and eats.
Ah, the Bellagio! The fountains are beautiful, the shops loaded with stuff I can't afford, and don't really want, the buffet, GIANT! Hubby and I got their early, my guess was that we would have to wait. We had our tickets for Mystere and didn't want to be late and wanted enough time to fill our faces. Upon arrival, there was a line. It wasn't bad and became even better when a random guy gave us the nod and said it was every bit worth the wait. We forked over the $80 and were led to our table, just a few steps from what I can only call a culinary heaven. We grabbed our plates and went off in search of sustenance. WOW! I started off with about 100 pieces of different kinds of cheese. Wound my way around the massive place and added Chicken Wellington, tortellini, steak, peeled shrimp, and the best, crab legs! They were actually already split so that lifting the sweet crabmeat was easy and didn't require a million Wet Wipes. We ate with the relish of a death row inmate. While hubby was off reloading, I managed to suck in a piece of the delicate crust of the Chicken Wellington. Now, here is the dilemma. Hubby and I went to Abuelo's one night. They have good chips so, of course, I was loading up. One sliver of chip lodged in my throat. I could talk etc but could feel it poking me in the throat! No amount of coughing could dislodge the piece. At this point, I am thinking I am going to die at Abuelo's. I excuse myself and race to the ladies room, dodging the unsuspecting patrons waiting to get a table. A lot of them didn't bother to move for the woman holding her mouth and dashing around like an idiot. How rude. Anyway, I get into the stall and proceed to throw up the offending piece of chip. Cheese comes out of my nose. I am disgusted. I don't throw up, that's a fact, this time I had to make the exception or risk death, or you know, puking on the table or something. Back to the chicken, I wasn't sure what to do. I drank a bunch and cleared my throat so much that I thought the Asian family next to me was going to move. I started to get a little irritated when the all pulled out their cameras and started snapping pictures of the pregnant, choking American woman. Nothing against anyone Asian, mind you. Eventually, I somehow managed to swallow the offending piece of crust and went back to the buffet for seconds or maybe it was thirds. The family actually asked my darling husband to take their pictures! I guess they figured it was the least they could do since we were practically related. It isn't every day that another tourist hacks up all kind of phlegm in your direction.
We finished with dessert/desserts. They were all such cute little designer treats. All in tiny little, ruffled cups, so small that I could easily line a dinner plate with 10 and still have a little room left over.
You can't beat Vegas for eating. Not everyone gambles, but everyone eats. And eats, and eats and eats.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Alone at last!
I dropped Mia off at her first day of preschool. I was nervous, of course, it is a big step for both of us, even if it is only 2 1/2 hours, twice a week. We packed her up, took some pictures and she was ready to go.
I am shocked that she goes in, kisses me goodbye and begins to play. I am happy but sad still. She is my little girl and I miss her.
I head off to get the dry cleaning and a free iced coffee at McDonald's, all is well. I get home, and... Nothing, I am alone and don't know what to do. I decided to play a bit of Scrabble and lose miserably. Reading doesn't sound interesting and I don't like TV. I try to think of something to do. I could run around naked, maybe put on some music? I could sit on the sofa and just throw out some swear words? Um, I could read my email? I need to clean the kitchen. Well, that doesn't sound very fun, so I don't.
I have brainstormed alot and have come up empty. Hmmm... It is now time to go get Mia. Where has the time gone?
I am shocked that she goes in, kisses me goodbye and begins to play. I am happy but sad still. She is my little girl and I miss her.
I head off to get the dry cleaning and a free iced coffee at McDonald's, all is well. I get home, and... Nothing, I am alone and don't know what to do. I decided to play a bit of Scrabble and lose miserably. Reading doesn't sound interesting and I don't like TV. I try to think of something to do. I could run around naked, maybe put on some music? I could sit on the sofa and just throw out some swear words? Um, I could read my email? I need to clean the kitchen. Well, that doesn't sound very fun, so I don't.
I have brainstormed alot and have come up empty. Hmmm... It is now time to go get Mia. Where has the time gone?
Open House
I am going off my Vegas rant to share a little about middle school open house. I am attending tonight, alone, my husband giving me a night out, so to speak. Plus, now that I am pg, I can use it to sneak away, with the excuse that my water broke or something like that.
To say that open house is exciting is really a lie. It is boring, filled with the same monotone headmaster that has been there for years and still has nothing interesting to say and no interesting way to say it. We get our folder of info and are supposed to head out to the classrooms to meet the teachers. The teachers haven't changed so I am going to skip that part of the evening. At this point of the year, 3 whole days, the kids don't have art or anything to display. I have never understood why open house is so early.
The fun part is the introductions of the new PTO officers. I don't know these woman at all. No idea how they got elected and for the most part, don't want to hear them speak. No offense, there really isn't anything interesting for them to say. It is very cliquey, I understand, but come on, no one really cares about how you are good with keeping your crap organized. KWIM?
I always look forward to the yearly ice cream social. While I'm definetly not social, I do like ice cream. Yeah, I know, for what we pay for this event, we could go buy several gallons of whatever flavor we choose, but it is for the school so we suck it up and eat a ton.
Another big event at school is the winter carnival. The school goes all out with neat decorations, lots of games and bouncy houses. Now, I have a little bit of experience with bouncy houses. I think they are a blast, but can't convince the other parents that maybe they could let off a little steam, let there hair down from their normal snobbishness and have some fun.
Then, there is the dreaded cake walk! Just the words "cake walk" puts the fear in all parents. It is the worst job at the carnival. Kids, and some adults, can't figure out that you walk in a circle on some numbers, when the music stops, the number called wins the cake. Hello??? There are clearly people that need to come out of the cake walk cave and get with the program. I am going to leave the details at that because just the thought of how hubby and I worked the cake walk for 2 hours is enough to make me want to find a small place to hide in.
Then, there are the donations of everything needed to run these yearly events. You name it and it is needed. Don't get me wrong, it is all for a good cause, I don't mind. I can always donate a cake or some cookies. Never a pie though. Pies seem to make the headmaster a little giddy. One year, he brazenly announced, "Men, bid on your wives pies. You don't want another man to eat your wife's pie!" Well, no, certainly not! I have never had to stifle a laugh so hard as I did right then. Of course, none of the parents moved a muscle, yet again proving that I am not meant to be in the prescence of such proper people.
So, tonight, I am off to open house. I will be sitting with all of the other parents, trying not to doze off, fart or do anything else that might repulse my neighbor. I will probably somehow get signed up for the cake walk again. I hope there are no pies!
To say that open house is exciting is really a lie. It is boring, filled with the same monotone headmaster that has been there for years and still has nothing interesting to say and no interesting way to say it. We get our folder of info and are supposed to head out to the classrooms to meet the teachers. The teachers haven't changed so I am going to skip that part of the evening. At this point of the year, 3 whole days, the kids don't have art or anything to display. I have never understood why open house is so early.
The fun part is the introductions of the new PTO officers. I don't know these woman at all. No idea how they got elected and for the most part, don't want to hear them speak. No offense, there really isn't anything interesting for them to say. It is very cliquey, I understand, but come on, no one really cares about how you are good with keeping your crap organized. KWIM?
I always look forward to the yearly ice cream social. While I'm definetly not social, I do like ice cream. Yeah, I know, for what we pay for this event, we could go buy several gallons of whatever flavor we choose, but it is for the school so we suck it up and eat a ton.
Another big event at school is the winter carnival. The school goes all out with neat decorations, lots of games and bouncy houses. Now, I have a little bit of experience with bouncy houses. I think they are a blast, but can't convince the other parents that maybe they could let off a little steam, let there hair down from their normal snobbishness and have some fun.
Then, there is the dreaded cake walk! Just the words "cake walk" puts the fear in all parents. It is the worst job at the carnival. Kids, and some adults, can't figure out that you walk in a circle on some numbers, when the music stops, the number called wins the cake. Hello??? There are clearly people that need to come out of the cake walk cave and get with the program. I am going to leave the details at that because just the thought of how hubby and I worked the cake walk for 2 hours is enough to make me want to find a small place to hide in.
Then, there are the donations of everything needed to run these yearly events. You name it and it is needed. Don't get me wrong, it is all for a good cause, I don't mind. I can always donate a cake or some cookies. Never a pie though. Pies seem to make the headmaster a little giddy. One year, he brazenly announced, "Men, bid on your wives pies. You don't want another man to eat your wife's pie!" Well, no, certainly not! I have never had to stifle a laugh so hard as I did right then. Of course, none of the parents moved a muscle, yet again proving that I am not meant to be in the prescence of such proper people.
So, tonight, I am off to open house. I will be sitting with all of the other parents, trying not to doze off, fart or do anything else that might repulse my neighbor. I will probably somehow get signed up for the cake walk again. I hope there are no pies!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Timeshare:HA, HA!
Hubby and I had just exited the Monte Carlo, when we were accosted by a pregnant woman, offering free buffets at our own hotel. Well, we like to eat so that looked appealing. After being corralled over to a small building, we were assailed by a spiky haired, young, smooth talking guy. Why we could see a free Vegas show if we would visit his property and give him our opinion. We demanded to see the show list. There was Lance Burton, La Cage, Follies and one that piqued my interest, "Mystere." Mystere has been in Vegas for quite some time and has won rave reviews. Ok, what do we have to do??? Just offer and opinion is all it will take to get the tickets. If you know me, you know that I am not short of an opinion on anything. I was perfect for the job. Now, darling husband, is the pragmatic one of us, doesn't normally get crazy over anything, and would, in general, prefer I keep my big mouth shut. Dang, this will be fun, with free stuff to boot!
The next morning, we wind our way through the casino to the place we are assured we will be picked up. This resort is next to Mandalay Bay. I can see Mandalay Bay but it is about 10 miles by walk. Not really, but a Las Vegas block is easily the equivalent to 6 regular blocks anywhere else. We wait with the other suckers and hope that this shuttle comes before I pass out from lack of water. I am near passing out from the heat and the sheer boredom. The big fun was yet to come!
Hubby and I had discussed how to handle these hard sell, timeshare sales idiots. We thought of saying that we were buying at the condos next door to the Monte Carlo. They were $650,00, yes, American, to start. I thought I could say I was a Koch but figured they wouldn't know who I meant. We had some pretty fabulous stories cooked up, we would have to see what game they played before we played ours.
We are escorted with all of the other suckers into a waiting room filled with oddly dressed women and Hawaiian shirt clad men. They called us to meet and move to the room where they put the screws to you. One of the guys, Hans, had a fake tan, with slicked back bleach blond hair. I have never laughed harder at someone, that probably isn't true, but I had to stifle myself when he got onto the elevator with us. When he mentioned there were "nibblies," I nearly lost it. Our guy was named Steve. Not very interesting, but worthy of the game we thought we might play.
There was a lot of small talk. Blah, blah, blah. Steve said he had been in the Air Force for 20 odd years. Then, he found out he had the "Big C." I really had to search my brain for what the Big C was. Clearly, my brain wasn't functioning in the heat because I it took me forever to figure out what he was referring to. Idiot, doorknob, jackass, goofball, none of those start with c. Oh! He meant cancer! He was actually joking about having cancer. Now, that is something to get a hoot over. NOT!
After a ridiculous spiel about who knows what, we watched a cool video about the destruction of some of Vegas' greatest landmarks. I still don't really know what they were getting at but I was eating a huge chocolate chip cookie and really could have cared less. Some old guy, proclaiming to be a former Vegas weatherman, gave us a canned lecture that required alot of canned applause from the idiot sales staff. Man, the things we will endure for some tickets to a show.
After what seemed like forever, with promises of trips wherever we wanted, or at least to all of the places this place shared with, we were released with Steve to have a look at the grounds. There was a fabulous pool with a sandy beach, cool. We were escorted into the models for a look see. Granite counter tops, stainless appliances, flat screen tv's, a jacuzzi tub in the master bedroom, all very nice. A stack washer and dryer in a closet. Ok, when I take a vacation, I sure as heck don't want to see a kitchen or any type of laundry facilities. I want a fancy lobby, a half dozen restaurants, shops that sell a bunch of stuff I either don't want or can't afford, something that doesn't look like an apartment that I lived in 5years ago. I explained this all to Steve, who proceeded to treat me like an idiot. Just close the door to the laundry closet, just don't cook. I told him that he clearly didn't understand what a vacation was to me. Hubby was wisely letting me voice my opinion so we could get the hell out of Dodge. I explained, that if I had to cook, do laundry and drive 5 miles to Starbucks, then that was a typical day, not a vacation. Well, Mr. Steve's attitude changed. He wasn't very friendly anymore. In fact, he called in one of the big guns. A guy, wearing a turtleneck that had a better manicure than myself. He tried to wheel and deal with some fancy figures and assuring us we would qualify, no credit check necessary. In a nutshell, we told him to take his 17.9% loan and shove it in his stack washer and dryer.
Five minutes later, tickets in hand, we were on the shuttle back to the life of a vacationer. Lots of AC, restaurants, shops with $30,000 purses and a Mint Mocha Frappuccino with my name on it. Just how I like it!
The next morning, we wind our way through the casino to the place we are assured we will be picked up. This resort is next to Mandalay Bay. I can see Mandalay Bay but it is about 10 miles by walk. Not really, but a Las Vegas block is easily the equivalent to 6 regular blocks anywhere else. We wait with the other suckers and hope that this shuttle comes before I pass out from lack of water. I am near passing out from the heat and the sheer boredom. The big fun was yet to come!
Hubby and I had discussed how to handle these hard sell, timeshare sales idiots. We thought of saying that we were buying at the condos next door to the Monte Carlo. They were $650,00, yes, American, to start. I thought I could say I was a Koch but figured they wouldn't know who I meant. We had some pretty fabulous stories cooked up, we would have to see what game they played before we played ours.
We are escorted with all of the other suckers into a waiting room filled with oddly dressed women and Hawaiian shirt clad men. They called us to meet and move to the room where they put the screws to you. One of the guys, Hans, had a fake tan, with slicked back bleach blond hair. I have never laughed harder at someone, that probably isn't true, but I had to stifle myself when he got onto the elevator with us. When he mentioned there were "nibblies," I nearly lost it. Our guy was named Steve. Not very interesting, but worthy of the game we thought we might play.
There was a lot of small talk. Blah, blah, blah. Steve said he had been in the Air Force for 20 odd years. Then, he found out he had the "Big C." I really had to search my brain for what the Big C was. Clearly, my brain wasn't functioning in the heat because I it took me forever to figure out what he was referring to. Idiot, doorknob, jackass, goofball, none of those start with c. Oh! He meant cancer! He was actually joking about having cancer. Now, that is something to get a hoot over. NOT!
After a ridiculous spiel about who knows what, we watched a cool video about the destruction of some of Vegas' greatest landmarks. I still don't really know what they were getting at but I was eating a huge chocolate chip cookie and really could have cared less. Some old guy, proclaiming to be a former Vegas weatherman, gave us a canned lecture that required alot of canned applause from the idiot sales staff. Man, the things we will endure for some tickets to a show.
After what seemed like forever, with promises of trips wherever we wanted, or at least to all of the places this place shared with, we were released with Steve to have a look at the grounds. There was a fabulous pool with a sandy beach, cool. We were escorted into the models for a look see. Granite counter tops, stainless appliances, flat screen tv's, a jacuzzi tub in the master bedroom, all very nice. A stack washer and dryer in a closet. Ok, when I take a vacation, I sure as heck don't want to see a kitchen or any type of laundry facilities. I want a fancy lobby, a half dozen restaurants, shops that sell a bunch of stuff I either don't want or can't afford, something that doesn't look like an apartment that I lived in 5years ago. I explained this all to Steve, who proceeded to treat me like an idiot. Just close the door to the laundry closet, just don't cook. I told him that he clearly didn't understand what a vacation was to me. Hubby was wisely letting me voice my opinion so we could get the hell out of Dodge. I explained, that if I had to cook, do laundry and drive 5 miles to Starbucks, then that was a typical day, not a vacation. Well, Mr. Steve's attitude changed. He wasn't very friendly anymore. In fact, he called in one of the big guns. A guy, wearing a turtleneck that had a better manicure than myself. He tried to wheel and deal with some fancy figures and assuring us we would qualify, no credit check necessary. In a nutshell, we told him to take his 17.9% loan and shove it in his stack washer and dryer.
Five minutes later, tickets in hand, we were on the shuttle back to the life of a vacationer. Lots of AC, restaurants, shops with $30,000 purses and a Mint Mocha Frappuccino with my name on it. Just how I like it!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Sephora
I love, love Sephora! My first jaunt into the store, left me $200 in the hole. I bought some makeup, and had it applied. I asked for a vanilla scented fragrance and was shown a wall of perfume. The saleswoman narrowed it down to 4, one of which I got and have used faithfully since. It is a wonderful, light smell. I could huff and get a little vanilla high, it so yummy. Anyway, I was thrilled at the prospect of shopping once again in a store that has so many makeup brands that your head spins.
My favorite store is the one next door to the Venetian. The Venetian shops have expanded so much since the last time I was in Vegas, that we realized we were going to be late for our dinner reservation. Hmm. Well, there were other Sephora's so I guess I would have to suck it up and try the one across from our hotel, at Planet Hollywood's mall.
I wouldn't recommend deviating from a store that offers so much to a store that offers very little. The Miracle Mile's Sephora offered little, and I was sorely disappointed. First off, the store is small, as in way tiny. There was no block long wall of perfume, no well stocked cases of any makeup brand you can think of. For instance, I wanted some of the NARS Orgasm products, the Multiple, polish and gloss. What I found? Nothing but empty spots of the shelves and a sign that the polish would be available soon. Hmmm... I know it was available on their website. My husband, who would barely sit foot in the door, yelled at me from outside to ask someone. There was a long line at the register and not many someone's to ask. I finally found someone to ask. It was a nearly 6 foot tall blond, wearing the usual black shirt, black pants ensemble. She had a long ponytail, pulled neatly. I approached. She turned around. I was shocked. The 6 foot blond was a MAN?!? Well, maybe not 100% man but still manly enough. I didn't want to get his makeup opinions so I left. It wasn't really because of him that I left. I was angry that I didn't go to the store of my choice, angry they were out of everything that I wanted and angry that my husband was not standing by me, helping me pick out stuff that I really don't need. I was also hot and thirsty and bitchier than usual, so it was time to go. So, we did.
My favorite store is the one next door to the Venetian. The Venetian shops have expanded so much since the last time I was in Vegas, that we realized we were going to be late for our dinner reservation. Hmm. Well, there were other Sephora's so I guess I would have to suck it up and try the one across from our hotel, at Planet Hollywood's mall.
I wouldn't recommend deviating from a store that offers so much to a store that offers very little. The Miracle Mile's Sephora offered little, and I was sorely disappointed. First off, the store is small, as in way tiny. There was no block long wall of perfume, no well stocked cases of any makeup brand you can think of. For instance, I wanted some of the NARS Orgasm products, the Multiple, polish and gloss. What I found? Nothing but empty spots of the shelves and a sign that the polish would be available soon. Hmmm... I know it was available on their website. My husband, who would barely sit foot in the door, yelled at me from outside to ask someone. There was a long line at the register and not many someone's to ask. I finally found someone to ask. It was a nearly 6 foot tall blond, wearing the usual black shirt, black pants ensemble. She had a long ponytail, pulled neatly. I approached. She turned around. I was shocked. The 6 foot blond was a MAN?!? Well, maybe not 100% man but still manly enough. I didn't want to get his makeup opinions so I left. It wasn't really because of him that I left. I was angry that I didn't go to the store of my choice, angry they were out of everything that I wanted and angry that my husband was not standing by me, helping me pick out stuff that I really don't need. I was also hot and thirsty and bitchier than usual, so it was time to go. So, we did.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
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