I went to a little shindig on Halloween Eve at one of the casinos. A funk cover band was playing that evening. The lead singer was dressed in a pimptastic suit. I thought the guy was black; Pammy protested and told me the guy was white. Someone butted in and informed us the singer was from Puerto Rico. We both claimed to be right in our racial evaluation after that. I didn't snap a picture of the dude's sparkly suit and white shoes, but I had to get video on the best dancer out on the floor.
This 70 something year old was hot and she knew it. She staked out a sizeable portion of the dance floor and owned it. Nary an amateur was allowed to approach and degrade the quality of her performance. I had a little sitdown with her at one point. When I asked her her secret, she confided, "It's all God-given, honey."
At this same shindig I also sat down with a woman dressed up as a cross between Stalin and Castro. Turns out she was a Vegas entertainer veteran. As she told me, due to her advancing age her gigs aren't as glamorous as they used to be. She invited me to see her perform the next weekend. How could I refuse?
The casino was outside of Vegas in a place dismissively referred to as Hendertucky. True, the casino itself wasn't much to look at, but it boasted a random (and completely awesome) classic car show in the parking lot that afternoon.
Following the sound of the music, I came upon my new acquaintance's less-than-glamorous gig: an aging polka band. The combined age of the two guys on the right is 167
Truth be told, I like a good polka. The songs were a lot of fun, and it was a lively over 80 crowd of sprightly two-steppers. Good time.
Meanwhile, back at The Big Time, I went to see Celine Dion on Wednesday night. Her residency in Las Vegas has been going on the past 400 years, and still she sells out every night. Because we couldn't get comp tickets, we watched the show from the control booth. The word "booth" is highly misleading because it is, in fact, a huge corridor that runs the entire back length of The Colosseum. True, this is where nosebleeds go to have nosebleeds, but I liked the relative seclusion of the surroundings.
Did I mention that Liberace guards the entrance to the restroom?
As I'm not a huge Celine fan and have no real desire to get up close and personal with her, I believe these seats presented Ms. Dion at the proper remove.
After the show we walked around The Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace for a bit. I spied with my little eye an art gallery which, I was delighted to see, was selling Andy Warhol's painting of Annie Oakley from his "Cowboys and Indians" collection. Not sure if I would have been allowed to take a photo of it if I'd wanted to, but did I even bother to try? Heck no! I was too caught up with the tack-a-rama.
Let me know if a plastic Venus de Milo made anyone's Christmas list this year. I can oblige.
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