2014 - Day 12 - Third USA Trip - New York, New York, Las Vegas

Before I forget to tell you, last night I again came across one of those great American women that I told you about a few days ago.  One of those *cough* ladies whom I aspire to be like.
 

We were at The Venetian and in line to enter the V Theatre to see Tim Allen in his one night only show.  The line was lengthy and moving slowly so I had ample opportunity to become acquainted with the back of the head of the person/people in front of us. I found myself admiring a diamante clip that was in the hair of the lady in front.  Her hair was shoulder length and perfectly curled with the sides pulled back and being held by the clip.  As she turned slightly to talk to her paramour I noticed that she had matching diamante stud earrings which complimented her hair clip.  They sparkled as she moved around and I felt pangs of regret that I no longer had long hair which I can tie back.
 

She wore a body hugging silver strapless dress which the diamantes again complimented.  I noticed a tattoo of a butterfly on her right shoulder which obviously had faded.  It probably really didn’t go very well with her overall outfit but hey….if you’ve got it, flaunt it I say.    Strange as it might seem I found myself looking down to see what type of shoe she was wearing to complete her outfit.  I guess I wouldn’t be a true female myself if I didn’t have some sort of curiosity.  I felt a little awkward as my eyes ran down her legs however once I got to her feet I could not hide my exclamation.  The woman was wearing thongs. I would not have been more surprised if she had been wearing army boots.    I figured they might have been just for comfort purposes whilst she stood in the long line, however not so.  As we followed her into the V Theatre and watched her take her seat, I watched her place her perfectly thonged feet on the back of the chair in front.  No changing of shoes at all.  In fact the only change that I saw her do was shift to place her feet further apart I am guessing to make herself more comfortable.  I am sure that this would not have been for her paramour to have easy access although he did take the opportunity to play a little bit of hidey-go-seek with a straw.  There you go.  Hats off to you chick!  Another great American *cough* woman who does not give a shit about what other people think!
 

Today we went to New York, New York as a promise to a lovely lady from my hairdressing salon at home.   She stayed there in August this year and had mentioned that we should seek out the Titanic slot machine when visiting Vegas.  She mentioned this at the time of my last hair cut, given that my own magnificent hairdresser was going to be in Vegas at the same time as us.   We decided we would have lunch within the casino first before seeking out the machine.  We had a great meal at a American Bar within New York, New York before embarking on the search for the slot machine.  This was a little harder than I thought it would be however given my genetic disposition for having poor sense of direction, as well as failing at virtually every orienteering challenge I have ever been set, this should have not come at any surprise.   This being said, eventually we did locate the said slot machine and I settled in to win a fortune.  Well what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas and on this occasion that was going to be our money.  The Bear and I quickly lost a small fortune (in our language anyway) quicker than the Titanic bloody well sank.   In an effort to recoup some of our loss (which of course is what the whole casino idea is based on!) we moved to an adjacent machine called “Puppy Power” which was absolutely right up my alley and we did in fact win the money back.  Don’t think for a moment that I seriously expected to.
 

While I am on the topic of anything puppy, I just want to make mention of an ad that is shown in TV over here.  Now TV advertising does nothing for me ever.  It annoys me to the point of distraction and quite often I would like nothing better than to do an Elvis especially when Harvey Norman or Super Amart ads come on. I find advertising offensive and intrusive and it does nothing but turns me off the product or company that is being promoted.  Will I buy a Jeep?  Not if my life depended on it.  Will I ever shop at Kmart again?  Hell no.   However there is an ad over here for the A.S.P.C.A.  It is the American equivalent of our R.S.P.C.A.   I have never, ever hid my love for my dogs and it is no secret that I have volunteered for the R.S.P.C.A in the past so I think it’s fair to say that an ad of this nature would have always grabbed by attention irrespective of my dislike for advertising.  This one however sets a precedent.  Not only will this ad capture my attention like no other, it will reduce me to tears and have me sell my soul to the devil for its cause.    They want/need donations and I am almost prepared to sell my house and hand them everything.  It has come to the point where I just cannot look at the TV when the ad is on.  It is TV advertising at its very best; it’s most powerful; and cleverly targets the very market that will give them the most - the likes of me.    I know that we live in Australia, however if you are ever looking for a cause that you wish to donate your millions to, think of the A.S.P.C.A.  Not because they deserve it more than any other charity at home, but because they achieved the almost impossible.  They made me cry and they sold me their “product”. 

2014 - Day 11 - Third USA Trip - Some Days I Just Never Learn!

Today we decided to venture away from the bright lights of Las Vegas and head to a little town called Oatman, Arizona.  The Bear found this little town on the map when we were planning our trip and it looked remarkably quaint.  In fact it promotes the fact that it is a real working town albeit small and features burros (donkeys) that wander freely through the town.  The drive was less than 3 hours from Vegas although would lead us from Nevada to Arizona.

We left shortly after breakfast to make the most of the day, heading towards the town (for want of a better word) of Searchlight.  We planned to get to Oatman via Searchlight, Laughlin (on the Nevada/Arizona Border where Nicco ironically spent last night) and Bullhead City.  I was a little full after breakfast so given that it was a fair distance to Searchlight, undid the button and fly on my jeans in order to travel comfortably.  I settled back with my camera and as per usual, photographed anything that moved or was stationery as well as everything in between.

By the time we reached Searchlight we were a little bit peckish, needed fuel and also required a bathroom.  I am ridiculously germ phobic when it comes to loo’s especially off the beaten track however was fairly much busting by the time we got there.  I would have thrown a leg over a cactus if required.   It became obvious fairly quickly that the only place that might have hosted a lav was at a place called “Terrible’s”.  This was a gas station that doubled as a McDonalds, and just for laughs, a Casino.

In the USA if you need to get fuel, you need to go into the gas station and pay for it before putting it in your car.  If you have paid too much then you simply go in and retrieve change.   So….we pulled up at “Terrible’s” and the Bear got out to pay for the gas and I got out to run to the loo.  Big mistake.  I had completely forgotten that my button and fly on my jeans was undone, so the second I got a few steps away from the car, I lost my strides.   Panicked I didn’t know whether to go forward or backward but as it turned out I could do neither whilst my pants were around my knees.  The population of Searchlight, 2 gas station patrons, a staff member and a goat saw me in all my glory.  I yelled out to the Bear for help and he ushered me back to the cover of the car where I promptly zipped up.  Bless him.

I would like to point out that they must make them tall in cowboy country.  After I had been to the loo and went out to wash my hands, I wanted to fix my hair which had been blown about in the desert wind.  However, I was too short for the mirrors.  I moved along the wash basins further (cringing at the filth on them) but they all stayed at the same height.  I even looked under the basins (the germs under there had fangs) just in case they had bothered to consider dwarves but no, no short people mirrors. None behind doors….none on the ceilings.    As a last resort I tried jumping up to see my reflection however a woman (well I think it was a woman.  If it wasn’t it was a damned ugly lady-boy…..or even perhaps a pretty horse) who had witnessed my stride dropping outside walked in, and I figured that I had raised enough questions in the town for one day. 

With that drama over and done with we were back on the road.  Nevada has the longest and most straight roads I have ever seen in my life and whilst there really is nothing to photograph, I decided that one can never have too many photos of a long, straight road.   The landscape is harsh in a different way to the Mojave Desert but equally as baron.  As we got closer to the town of Laughlin it had all but become simply rock.  There was little evidence of even a cactus growing.   I found it hard to believe that Nicco’s tour group would have found a place out here to spend the night.  However just as Vegas arises from the desert, so does Laughlin.  It is by no means the size of Vegas and actually is a relatively small town the lies on the Colorado River but it still houses several large Casino’s. 

The Colorado River is absolutely stunning.  It is wide, full, and fast flowing.  It obviously is a playground for jet skiers, water skiers, swimmers and paddle boats.  I walked down to the edge of it and would have to say it is the clearest, cleanest water I have ever seen in my life.  I was rather fascinated by this ugly town on a beautiful river and insisted that we stop at another gas station so that I could buy a fridge magnet just to show that I had been there.  (I tried that in Searchlight, but despite the fact that you could play slots right next to the engine oil, I couldn’t buy a damned fridge magnet).

Onward and upward we continued further into country that the cowboy movies were made of.  In fact, I would not have been at all surprised if we had have seen “The Duke” (John Wayne) on horseback.  Yes he is deceased however it was like stepping back into 1969.   The Bear and I stopped for our obligatory selfies with the landscape in the background.   I also did my customary fake attempt at hitch hiking just for photo purposes.  Unfortunately an old couple thought I was serious. *insert a rare embarrassed look here*

Climbing up into what I can only describe as Arizona’s answer to Hanging Rock, we finally came across the town of Oatman.  Well what an absolute surprise.  It is tiny and quaint.  There is no internet.  In fact I don’t even think it has a gas station!  But there were stores for those passing through and a charming character that I have never seen before.  Oh….and there was the burros.  A number of them…..two cute babies and several adults.  The main (and only) street was littered with burro poo and torrents of burro pee but the combined aroma along with the dry desert air added to the ambience.  I thought it was genuinely charming.

The local folk put on a skit as a way of raising funds to upgrade their facilities. It was very entertaining and well worth seeing.  In one of the stores there was a collection jar begging for help to update their toilets.  I kid you not.  The Bear is was in his glory having animals to harass (he is just impossible) and I believe that this is firm proof that he misses my dogs and his veiled attempt at rejecting this as being possible is rubbish.  Unfortunately I was the one to wear the wrath of one of the burros which gave me a swift boot up the butt nearly knocking me over.  I am told it was just looking for food so I can only assume I look good enough to eat.  (Yeah….thats it.  I look like one big carrot.  Not. Not even a bale of hay.  More like the whole barn!)

We decided to grab another bite to eat at the towns “saloon” which served simple food such as burgers and nachos.  Iced drinks were served in styrofoam cups and iced tea was served out of stained plastic jugs.  I don’t like iced tea, drinking out of Styrofoam cups and definitely don’t like drinking anything that came from stained plastic (refer to previous comment about germ phobic!) but fortunately I was able to get a can of Coke.    With our bellys full we said a final goodbye to the burros and left the town before sundown.  Actually we left mid afternoon but I just wanted to say sundown.  I might add that I again found that I had to undo my fly and button again as I really had, had too much to eat.

We were keen to get back to  Vegas as tonight we had tickets to see Tim Allen – as in Tim the Toolman.  He was in Vegas for one night only and we managed to secure tickets!  Very exciting!   The drive was a good 3 hours and although the show wasn’t until 8pm at The Venetian we wanted the opportunity to have a shower and change.  We pulled up in the driveway of our hotel around 6pm and jumped out allowing the valet to look after our vehicle whilst we bolted upstairs.  There was just one thing that I forgot though.  One would have thought I already would have learned?  You guessed it.  I had forgotten to do up my fly and button again, and lost my strides in the driveway of the Marriott Grand Chateau not far off the Las Vegas strip.   Now who else do you know could say that their audience base had increased a thousand fold after only one show?!

2014 - Day 10 - Third USA Trip - Now its the bath tubs!

We are staying at the Marriott Grand Chateau in Las Vegas which is about a block back from the strip.  The Bear and I have no interest in staying on the strip with its bright lights and drunken adolescents. Las Vegas is the only city that I am aware of that is legal to walk along the street with an open alcohol container, and when young adults (for want of a better word) come to Las Vegas they use these freedom to the max.  The end result is overflowing waves of inebriated young guns spilling out onto the roadways and making one hell of a racket. 

The Grand Château would have to be the nicest hotel that we have ever stayed at.  The rooms are suites and seem to be tailored more for the “older“ person.  By that I mean that there is bingo at night,  coffee and wine tasting daily, and does not have a single slot machine anywhere within cooee of it. The suites are spacious, lovely and supremely comfortable.  The strip is only a block away should we need it, but the Bear and I simply do not have an interest.  We are here for the shows and shopping!

I do have one small gripe however and that is with the very modern shower that is in the room.  Rather than have a single shower rose where the water comes out of – instead it has two square panels of holes that spray the water from the wall. There is no way that the square panels can be moved to direct the flow elsewhere.  These panels sit at approx 6 1/2 foot high and when the water sprays out, it obviously does so in an arc with the water landing on the rear glass at approx 5 foot 2 inches in height.    I am 5 foot 2 inches in height.  This clearly means that when I step in the shower, I am immediately set upon by dual water sprays.  I cannot duck below the water, I cannot step aside from the water, I cannot stand on tippy toes to avoid the water.    My one attempt at having a shower was met with me doing something that similar to the robot in “Lost in Space”.  With soap in my eyes and dual torrents of water going straight into my face, my arms flung stiff and wildly. Had I have repeated “Danger Will Robinson” or “Crush, Kill, Destroy” I would have definitely passed as the robots evil twin.

This meant I had to find an alternative means of bathing.  No problem, this gorgeous hotel has a large bathtub in the suites…..in the bedroom (WTF is the go with that????) no less.  I hadn’t had a bath in a good 20 years (I had showers all of you smarty pants!) however this was a tub that looked like it could house a bum even of my size.  With the bath run, it took a little bit of doing to get into the thing, because as I have pointed out above, I am short.  The side of this bath was as tall as the top of my thigh yet I was still able to step into it carefully without splitting my difference.  I sunk into the warm water and actually quite enjoyed it.  I found myself asking why I had not had a bath in so long, before remembering again the size of my tush.  Question asked and answered.

I was not sure what sort of time frame was appropriate to spend in the tub but once I had all but exhausted my shower gel and made as many bubbles in my hands as I possibly could I felt that it was probably time to get out.  Pulling the plug I remembered my own words of safety that I would tell to my children when they were growing up.  You know….don’t stick your fingers down the hole….don’t sit over the hole or it will pull your bowel out through your bum….that sort of stuff…..and I smiled at the memory.  As it turned out, the joke was going to be on me.

I went to stand up in the tub.  No can do.  My shower gel had made the bottom so slippery my feet went out at odd angles.  Not pretty.   I tried again.  Same deal.  I figured I might try to get on all fours, like I would do if getting up off the floor as four limbs are better than two.  No so when your knees do the splits because this pretty much deems your hands useless.  I am fairly sure I invented a new aerobic move.   I could have at this point called out to the Bear for assistance, however this would have meant admitting defeat and that is something that I do not take likely….even if it means that the end result could be needing to have a proctologist remove a faucet from my behind.

Using my head (because seriously, that was the only part of me without the potential to slide) I ran a little bit more water to try to clean excess shower gel off the bath tub floor before trying the whole FRUSTRATING DAMNED PROCESS yet again.   I was a little more successful this time….getting to the point of something akin to a graceful new born giraffe, whose bandy legs waver and buckle before they finally give way and they fall in an undignified heap. 

At this point, I nearly gave up and would have sought assistance, when a light bulb went off over my head.  (Actually it was the Bear turning one on in the lounge room but it happily coincided with the answer to my dilemma)  I reached over the side of the bath tub and retrieved the bath mat.  I put the bath mat in the bath tub, which allowed me to stand and climb out….very delicately I might add.  Success!! 

 

Tonight we went to the Venetian for the second time (we went last trip as well) to see the " Motown" by Human Nature.  As some of you may know, Human Nature are a boy (now men) band from Sydney who had hits in Australia back in the 1990s.  Music recorded under the Motown label is by far my favourite genre of music so we take the opportunity to enjoy the songs of Motown at every given opportunity.  Human Nature have been very successful in Las Vegas and have done the Motown show for a number of years now.  We enjoyed it so much on the last trip here, we decided to go again.

I found myself sitting next to a lady and a husband from Detroit.  Of course this is not unusual given that we are in the USA so obviously we would find ourselves surrounded by Americans.  Usually they are remarkably friendly people who just love Aussies. And I love them.  The lady beside me.....not so much. This woman had a face on her like a bucket of smashed crabs and spoke just as eloquently.  She was three shades to the wind having consumed obviously too much Passion Pop and whilst she danced in her seat as though she was having a major fit (I nearly asked her husband if I could call 911) she clearly had a dislike of the Australian accent and our jargon.

If I ever hear this when we are travelling I tend to raise my voice so that I can let the offending person know that an Aussie is within earshot, however this was pointless given the loud music.  Having seen the show before, I also knew that an opportunity would arise where I could make our home country known.  During a set of Motown songs, the boys.....I mean men.....always sing one of their own songs that was a hit in Australia.  They chose "Every time you cry" which was a song they did with John Farnham and reached Number 1 on the Australian music charts.  At the end of this song, they said to the audience that they probably were not familiar with the song, as it was one of the songs that reached Number 1 in their home country and was recorded on one of their 13 albums.  Following this they ask if there are any Australians in the audience. 

Only those that are closest to me will know just how "out there" I can be (and I will take this opportunity again to apologise to Alyx for my doing so at her University Graduation) so will totally be able to imagine me launching myself from my seat, arms in the air, with an ear piercing "Wooooooooooooooohoooooooooooooooo".  Sitting back down in my seat my glance at the woman said "get that up ya!" and there was not another snide remark about the Aussie accent or jargon.

Just while I think of it, today we went back to Walmart to pick up some things that we forgot yesterday.  I would like to make mention of our checkout chick, “Bessie”  who was 150 in the shade.  A dear old woman, who looked just a little bit worse than my poor Nana as she lay in state, served us while she talked about moving from San Diego in 1952. (She had heard me mention San Diego as I was talking to the Bear about the city as that is where Nicco is at the moment)  I watched her with admiration wondering why a lady of this age should be working at this point of her life, and in a position where she has to stand up all day. If I could have shown her a comfortable chair and taken over the register for her, I most certainly would have.  I admire Walmart for employing people that are over 18 years old, unlike chain supermarkets in Australia, but I really have to wonder if the elderly in America are looked after worse than in Australia…and that is saying something.

2014 - Day 9 - Third USA Trip - A salute to women of America

*Note:  this is in no way a reflection on my friends in America and is not meant to offend in any way, shape or form. Read at your own peril!*


Today is my Mums birthday.  I was in the exact same place as I was on her birthday 2 years ago – Las Vegas.  Happy Birthday Ma!  I do make sure I phone home to wish her that.

Today we went to my favourite haunt here.  No…not a Casino!  Walmart! It’s at this establishment that I bow to those that I hold in such high regard – the American Woman.  It is they who I admire above all people and aspire to be like.  I kid you not. 

Each day when I dress to go to work, or to go to the store, or just simply potter around the house, I dress to cover up.  Not in skirts or dresses which might enable a petite thunder-thigh to be viewed by a poor unsuspecting soul.  Pants…..long pants/trousers/jeans/harem (ok…not harem) pants only dress these legs.  This also doubles as my contribution to saving a dollar on the weekly grocery bill.  Covered legs do not need to be shaved more than twice a year….only being required when visiting the gynaecologist.    This gives me a good 5 year lifespan on the razors I use.   The sleeves of blouses and tops must be at least elbow length. Occasionally I might live dangerously and wear a T-shirt but this will only generally be around the house and not where my tuckshop lady arms can be mistaken for dimpled swamp creatures only to be set on by some brave renegade in our local community.  I will take this opportunity to point out that my armpits do see a razor a little bit more often than my lower limbs as I find body odour more offensive than my own body (and THAT is saying something).

I come to the United States of America, the land of the Star Spangled Banner and African American Presidents and find that this country of great pride and patriotism harbours women who have more courage in their little fingers than I do in my past, present and future life bodies combined.   These women have the confidence and flare to dare step outside their front doors without the obvious hang-ups that hang heavy on my shoulders.   They experience a freedom which I cannot possibly understand and I dream for the day when I might be able to throw caution to the wind and experience it.  Just once.  Just once.

The American clothes sizing system is more generous than Australian.  If you are a size 16….then you are a true size 16 and clothes in every department store will fit you.  In Australia a size 8 in one store might be a size 22 in another.  American clothes are also better made than Australian, so if you are likely to put your arse through a set of britches in Australia, that is unlikely to happen in America.  In America the cost of a pair of trousers might cost you $20 at the most, where as in Australia it requires 2 months pay and a second mortgage on your house. And finally, American clothes are created for the modern woman, irrespective of your size.  So where as in Australia, if you are above an 18 you have to wear stretch nylon dresses with an elasticised neckline, in America you can where pretty much the same style clothes whether you are a size 8 or a size 28.   So, given this one would expect that all American women would be dressed stylishly or in modern clothes.  But….there is two things we have not covered here.  The need to be comfortable and the ability to not give a shit.  This is where I bow to the masters! (or should that be mistresses?)

Take a *cough* lady who is a size 24 for example.  The first rule in this country is that bras are optional.  Hallelujah!  The size 24 woman will understandably use this rule as her first amendment.    Not only are bras optional but so are sleeves……and shaved armpits.  The tops of her arms might be dimpled like feta cheese with her boobs hanging out of the sleeve holes amid the knee length, matted hair….but ain’t nobody gonna tell her to put those puppies back in the kennel!  No way Jose!  

And take a sized 30 *cough* lady whose derrière is wider than the state of California is long.  You just try telling her that she really shouldn’t be wearing those black, see-through, stretch (oh boy are they stretched) bike pants with what appears to be a iridescent green g-string (hang on…no….that’s her partners dental floss) underneath.  The letter “M” is tattooed on each butt cheek.  If you were to ask her what they stood for, she would bend over and tell you to “KISS THIS” and you would realise exactly what they stood for moments before she killed you. (For those that don’t get it….M.O.M.  If you don’t get it now, I don’t know what I can tell you)

And finally, take the *cough* lady who is a size 36, is 123 years old still with the mouth of a sewer who will leave her house in last nights pyjamas mixed with a New Year costume from 1952….well she is my all time favourite.  Anyone that gets to that age deserves a mention in my books.

I bow to all these *cough* ladies of America, for having the confidence to leave their trailer parks….I mean homes…..and be comfortable in what they are wearing.  They do not feel the need to cover up all of there bits and pieces….and more pieces....and so on.  In fact….I might give it a whirl myself tomorrow.  Watch this space!

2014 - Days 4 - 8 - Third USA Trip - Trying to catch up!

Thanks to having little access to the internet over the past week, I am just going to try to catch up by condensing one week into a couple of paragraphs before resuming my normal format.  This probably will mean that it will be a bit of a bore.  However, just to add a little bit of spice, I will place my points in dot point EXACTLY as I have written them in my travel diary. This is what I use to job my memory when I do my blog each night, however looking at my notes over the past week and a half, I am stuffed if I know what drugs I am doing because I cannot remember half of what they did!

 

So, here are my notes from 1 November – 5 November (days 4 – 8)  just as they are written:

 

• Californian Science Centre
• Bike Shop
• Malibu  (I then scratched Malibu as we didn’t get there)
• Jesus called me Senorita
• Petsmart – everything in Australia wants to kill you
• Venice
• Santa Monica
• Applebees Ducks
• Dennys spooky maple syrup (those on Facebook will have seen my video!)
• Nic cracking himself up making me yawn
• Ducks give me three extra dogs
• Disneyland birthday boy Bryan (not my husband obviously) playing with my bum (ermmm….pardon?)
• Rides not working
• Beverly Hills ad
• Hollywood filming
• Warner Bros proposal
• Traffic Jam
• Custom Hotel
• Deep maroon tiles
• Dark brown doors
• Black toilet bowls
• Cant see to vomit
• Jets of light from the floor
• LA -> Vegas via Victorville

 

So are you any the wiser?  Nope….me either!  But at least I can continue with my normal format now!

2014 - Day 3 - Third USA trip - Happy Halloween!!!

Happy Halloween!  It is absolutely mental how much the Americans celebrate this.  It’s like a season long party in this country.  They have Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas.  It is all celebrated in a massive way with pomp and ceremony like you wouldn’t believe! 

Today we introduced Nic to “ In and Out Burger”.  This place has the most simple of menus, the cheapest of prices, the most immaculate and enthusiastic staff, and the most impeccably clean facility.  Most of all, this place has the tastiest burgers in America.  They are fantastic. They also use meat that has never been frozen; they hand cut their fries themselves; there is no added sugar in their bread rolls; and they make their burgers to order.  These burgers are ones that really DO look like the burgers as shown in their photo.  Just amazing. 

Today’s visit to “In and Out Burger”  came with a difference.  Thanks to it being Halloween every second person and their dog was dressed in costume.  The streets were filled with wizards and bumblebees, not to mention super heroes and cartoon characters.  This was all well and good….until the clown.  The scary clown.  The hideously scary clown.  Now Nic had a fear of clowns when he was little.  At the time I thought it was a little cute…and a little bit weird.  Clowns are friendly right?  Big happy smiles and noses that you can honk?  Not so apparently.
 

I was with the Bear waiting for our order.  I was looking around as I always do, locking away the images for when I go back to Australia.  I was calm…salivating at the smell of the flame grilled burgers.  And then our eyes met.  Staring back at me was the most evil clown that should ever walk the earth.  I stifled a scream and attempted to tear my eyes away…but it was too late.  The evil clown had me under his spell and it was fairly apparent that I was going to be hypnotised by his evil stare and become a slave to him.  He would have me trained to do awful things to other people when ever he rings a bell. 

 

 

 

Fortunately for me, an end to a possible car chase was taking place just outside the establishment.  Police cars with lights flashing blocked a vehicle from both sides to prevent the driver from escaping.   The clown-monster temporarily got distracted and looked away therefore breaking the stare.   I was fairly sure that the hypnotism had not yet been finished/successful so I was in the clear to run from this dangerous situation.  As we grabbed our order and left the store, I armed myself with a cup of ketchup (you serve yourself in small cups to take with you) to throw at him should he attempt to approach me or resume the hypnosis

.

 

After this we stopped in at a UPS outlets so that I could post a parcel to a friend in Tennessee.  I had brought it with me from Australia as it would have cost an arm and a leg via Australia Post.  Things were done a little bit different to Australia and the parcel will take a little bit longer to reach its destination but all in all it was a very pleasant experience.  The lady who served me was really lovely (as most Americans are) and gave service with a smile.  I just couldn’t quite tell if she was dressed as Old Mother Hubbard for Halloween, or, that it was just her usual attire.   I most certainly wasn’t asking.  I was still shaking from my near death experience with monster-clown.

 

Nothing beats getting over a traumatic event like a visit to Wal-Mart.  It is my second favourite place in the world!  The other patrons of Wal-Mart are notorious for looking daggy/boganish/downright-wrong so it makes me feel incredibly normal.  The Bear bought some clothes, and I got a couple of items. I bought some yummy cupcakes to satisfy a 6 month long craving.  Wal-Mart sell the BEST cupcakes and I can buy 12 o them for $3.  That’s right…..$3!!!   I also did a spot of Christmas shopping.  Of course the purchases can only be things that I am able to get home whether it be because of its size, its fragility, or it’s ability to be confiscate via customs.

Jet lag seems to be a bit of an issue this time around and I am buggered if I know why.  Usually trips to Los Angeles don’t affect me at all but this time I am a little out of whack.  Hopefully I will get my sleeping patterns right so that that I can giddy-up.  Tomorrow we are going to the Space Shuttle Endeavour at the Californian Science Centre to show Nic.  I am fairly sure that he wont be interested in most, but he will love the Space Shuttle….and the Tundra (a brand of pickup truck) that is also on display there as it pulled the Space Shuttle along the streets of Los Angeles on route to its final resting place!

2014 - Day 2 - Third USA Trip -- Being knocked over the head with a poo bat!

I am thrilled to be back in LA!  I am surprised I got here in one piece following my gymnastics during yesterday’s flight.  I got into some severe problems with my bladder however I made it through.  Once we landed and jumped through all of the hoops that is required at the border, we picked up our hire car and were on our way.  We had a reasonably quiet afternoon given that we were completely exhausted following the flight.  In fact, poor Nic’s eyes looked like two p!ss holes in the snow. He was struggling.

There was one thing though that we did have to do before anything else – hit Wal-Mart! I needed to purchase a kettle/jug as the American one that we had bought and used on previous trips had shat itself.   Hotels in the USA do not supply kettles for coffee making – instead they have things like a percolator which is all very well and good if you like drinking paint stripper.  When we travel we take our own coffee which is why we need the kettle.  Also, my constant companion is a hot water bottle (excellent for pain relief!) and I therefore need a hot water bottle for that.

We found a Wal-Mart within 10 minutes of where we will be staying so headed in that direction. If only I had the courage to photograph some of patrons that I saw. You know those emails that go out with stacks of photos of the weird ass fashion that Wal-Mart shoppers wear?  Yep….they are honky dory real.   I tried to photograph some fellow customers discreetly on a previous visit to the USA an ended up with a collection of photos that included a nostril, an earlobe, a couple of fingers and an elbow, a butt cheek (my own…don’t ask), several of the ceiling and the floor, and a partridge in a pear tree.   I could be my usual brazen self and whip the camera out, out in the open, however I have been sadly mistaken before when photographing what I thought was a person deliberately dressing up for fun…..when in fact they were just in their normal day clothes.  Errr whoops!

Nic was gobsmacked at the prices of items in Wal-Mart.  This included 4 litre bottles of Vodka for $8.99 and absolutely ginormous pizzas for $7.99.  He is depressed that he can legally carry 2 litres back into Australia.  I will no doubt visit several Wal-Mart locations before I head back home in 6 weeks.  I totally love Wal-Mart.  I have placed a bet on myself that we will purchase another suitcase to take things back in.  I am fairly sure that we are a sure thing.  Sure we are.  Sure to be sure.  Sure.

Our hotel is not far from Disneyland.  Usually we would spend our time in L.A staying at Pasadena which is just beautiful.  This time we are at Anaheim as it was just the cheapest place to stay this time.  The hotel is quite nice and comfortable and is very familiar given that we stay in the same chain of hotels whenever we travel. Unfortunately the toilet overflowed tonight which required a call to the front desk begging for assistance.  I will point out that we didn’t cause the toilet to overflow thank goodness, because if it was the result of anything I put down there, it is possible that the floor would have disintegrated.  I guess fortunately there is an abundance of HAZMAT teams in the USA at the moment.

We took Nic for a drive to Corona (the LA suburb….not the beer) some place that made parts for motorbikes or had something to do with a professional riding team.  I didn’t quite understand what we were taking him to but he apparently met one of his hero’s and he was over the moon.    I tried to reflect the excitement that he was expressing however was overcome by a god awful smell.  When we opened the car doors at Corona, a thick, sewerage smell totally enveloped the car.  I immediately wanted to blame Nic for it; however it was too bad even for him!  When we left Nic for a while so that he could walk through the factory that we had taken him to, we drove to a local drugstore just for a look.  (CVS is more than a drug store…it’s a one stop shop with the most amazing items at Thanksgiving and Christmas time!)  We hopped out of the car there, and were again knocked over the head with a poo bat.    Dead set, I looked around and people were carrying on with their day as though they couldn’t smell “Eau de Diarrhoea-mixed-with-rotten-rat-guts-and-bat-shit”.  Nic said that he had passed comment about the smell at the place he was visiting, and he was met with almost an offended look.  They had no idea what he was talking about.  I have no idea what is wrong with the people of Corona, but if I ever here the word “Corona” from now on, I will automatically imagine a large pile of hot, steaming, dog poo.

We also took Nic to Angel Stadium.  He couldn’t give a damn about baseball, but he does give a damn about the motocross events that are held there in baseballs off season.  Not a stones throw from Angel Stadium is the Honda Centre, home of Alyx’s beloved Anaheim Ducks.  We went to a ice hockey game there with her when we were in LA during our last visit.  Alyx is a little beyond obsessed with this team and I felt a little guilty being there without her.  Nic could have used the opportunity to totally piss his sister off however to his credit he refused to.  He wouldn’t even pose for a photo there.  To soften the blow, we went in and purchased the items as listed on Alyxs want-list which we added to some other items that we purchased earlier in the day.  This allowed us to place a big tick on our to-do list.

 

We had dinner at a place called Clancy’s Bar and Grill which is not far from the hotel. It looked nice enough and the menu appeared to be ok. We should have run when we were greeted by a short, dumpy, greying woman (not that there is anything wrong with that.  I could have been looking into a mirror) who was missing more than a couple of teeth.  She showed us to a table where we were quickly served by the loudest American that I have ever heard.  She looked as though she had just stepped out of a “Debbie does Dallas” movie and with one look at us, immediately thought we were there for a night of gluttony and grog swilling.  She looked more than a little surprised when I requested a glass of water, and the Bear and Nic ordered a coke.   She looked even further surprised when I ordered an appetiser (the same as an entrée in Australia) for my main meal, and when Nic and the Bear ordered something relatively small meals.  I wanted to point out that just because the Bear is a tall bloke, and just because I am the size of a house including the backyard barn, didn’t mean that we had to eat three quarters of the menu.   When we got our meals, that were certainly nothing to write about, and we decided that we would not be eating at Clancy’s ever again.  

Back at the hotel we settled in for the night and I was happy as a pig in mud given that there were several episodes of “The first 48” on the A & E channel.  Unfortunately the Bears night was disturbed with a certain short duck (not mentioning any names) who decided to go for a sleep walk again.  This has been happening on a regular occasion where I apparently get up and do some pretty weird shit and the Bear says he has a time and a half tying to shepherd me back to bed.  He can hold a conversation of sorts with me even though I apparently don’t make a great deal of sense. 

Hmmmm……doing weird shit whilst talking nonsense?  I am not sleep walking.  That is just me!