Toys for Tits....wait, wrong fundraiser. Toys for Tots!

There's always something new to learn, and this week my coworkers taught me a little something about international snacking.  It turns out that a pet peeve of my office manager is that American words are mispronounced in Spanish, and then this word becomes the word for the item.  Case in point: donas.  What is a dona, you ask?  It's a donut.  Check it out:

Of course, I found it even more amusing that these so-called donas are made by Bimbo.  "You guys like Donas made by Bimbos?" I kept taunting the front office crew.  "Shut up!  We're Mexican!" they told me goodheartedly.  Apparently Bimbo also makes toasted bread, and not like melba toast, mind you.  It's packaged toast.  Huh?  I'd go in search of one, but my curiosity does not extend to doing research in the neighborhood ghetto 7 Eleven.

As happens all throughout the country in December, Friday night was Toys for Tots night at one of the casinos (of course).  The show packed the 850 or so seats, and no crowd would be complete without the elderly ladies in their tiaras and sashes. 

I have no idea what the whole Miss Elite Endeavor thing is, but the other gal is a Miss Senior Nevada.  I have a theory that those sashes are like the Red Shoes -- once you put those sashes on, you're doomed to wear them forever.  I see these gals from prior years' competitions around all the time.  They wear this stuff to go shopping at Walmart....kid you not.

The show featured a couple dozen singers, magicians, comedians and burlesque dancers who are all well known in Vegas.  They're not well know like Donny and Marie or Mariah Carey (though several of the performers work on their shows), but this is what Vegas entertainment on The Strip but outside of the megastars looks like.  The show was a little under three hours.  You can watch the highlights of it below in 10 minutes.  My bar buddy Laura made the cut in the highlight reel, and it's worth watching just to see the vintage gown she had on.  

Besides Laura, I'm friendly with David, the trumpet player leading the band.  Though I don't know any of the other acts personally, I run into about 50% of the other performers every week because, as I've said before, this is a small town when you get right down to it.  

The thing that got left out of the highlights reel was the pre-show entertainment, which featured an 11 year old Michael Jackson impersonator named Natalia.  Put her in the running for Best in Show -- the girl is a formidable dancer.

That's entertainment.

You Ignorant Chimichanga!

There's a sign at work that I can't photograph because all hell might break lose if I did.  The text, verbatim, goes like this:

Por Favor De No

Entrar Cuandro La

Puerto Esta Cerrada.

Gracias.

It never ceases to amaze me that with as many native Spanish speakers as we have on hand, as a business our Spanish is absolutely atrocious.  The sign has been up for a very long time, and I'm guessing that one of my fellow employees just couldn't take it any more.  I came in last week only to find that the sign had been defaced!  Horror of horrors, all of the mistakes had been corrected with a Sharpie marker.  My lead tech thought it looked tacky corrected, so she rubbed the marker marks off and the sign went back to its illiterate [tacky?] self.  

Fascinated with the end of the road as I am, I returned this past weekend to the Skyline for some polka goodness.  As I've noted in the past, it's an elderly but a lively crowd.  Free popcorn abounds, which no one can eat because practically everyone in the audience (so they tell me) has diverticulitis.  I was not given any complimentary popcorn during this trip, and I suspect I was being discriminated against for being under the age of 80.  In a fit of good temper, I decided to hold off on a lawsuit.

The trombonist to the right took a tumble off the stage at one point as he dismounted from his stool.  No one, myself included, made a move to help the man up because, frankly, we'd all expected the fall to kill him.  No need in hurrying to pick up a dead body when there's free popcorn to be had.  As it turns out, he was only slightly dazed from the fall and lived to play another set. 

At the end of the first set the lead singer announced all of the polka dancers who had died since the previous Sunday.  (If necessary, I imagine she would have announced the death of the fallen trombone player as well.)  Then she sang happy birthday to all of the dancers who had hit 90 that weekend and were likely to be dead by next Sunday.  And then it's Carol's turn!  As soon as this woman plugs her accordion into her amp, she's unstoppable!

This stuff ain't right.

Second Verse, Same as the First! or, Another Trip to The Peppermill

First things first, I'm sure you're all wondering what followed in the saga of the Christmas tree.  After assembling the monster, Pam asked me if I'd be willing to hang the lights, which she warned me is the most god-awful job ever.  No problem, I told her.  The only catch, she told me, was that I'd have to watch a video on how to hang the lights properly.  I thought this was a joke until I walked over to the Christmas tree and found Pam blocking my path and holding her cell phone in hand, YouTube video on deck.

Lulu: You're really going to make me watch a video, aren't you?
Pammy: Yes.
Lulu:  Pam, I'm not watching a video on how to hang lights.  I just won't.
Pammy:  Fine, you can do it anyway you like, but you have to do it my way.
Lulu:  Fine.  *hmph!*

So of course after agreeing to do it her way, I proceeded to do it my way while she wasn't looking.  Sadly, I got caught in my act of decorating insubordination.  Pam took over, and I was demoted from light strand hanger to light strand de-tangler.  I was at work when she finally put up the actual ornaments.  You'll see the result below.

But on to other adventures.  This weekend was the office Christmas party.  Like damned near everything else in this town, the party was held at one of the casinos.  Big room, big buffet, big door prizes (of which I didn't win any!).

The theme of the party was prom.  I have mixed emotions about themed Christmas parties.  On the one hand, it's a burden to make one's outfit conform to the theme, but on the other hand it adds a Halloween element to Christmas.  That's highly acceptable.  After being inspired by one of the local piano players in town, I decided on the velvet tuxedo jacket look.  Unfortunately from the photograph, you can't tell that my pants are glitter pants.  (I now have a glitter mess in my truck, by the way.)  How my little legs sparkled!  It's also hard to tell, but I did my hair in faux hawk fashion, with middling success.  I didn't love my hair up like that, but after putting the glue in it I couldn't get my hair to go back down without rewashing it.  

Please to note the decorated Christmas tree with 1000 lights as well.

The party itself was pleasant.  It consisted of hugging a lot of coworkers for no other apparent reason than we weren't wearing our normal work clothes and that this seemed to excite everyone.  I was stunned by the number of grown women who did go out and by actual prom dresses/ball gowns to go to this party. 

The party wrapped up around 11, which is right when the city starts to perk up.  My coworker and I couldn't resist a breakfast run to The Peppermill.  The waffles and french toast and neon lights are just too inviting.  

We hung out on the restaurant side, but I finally took a gander at the bar side, which has an interesting fire pit surrounded by a blue lagoon.  It was a lot more crowded than the restaurant side, and it's entirely possible that the neon lights are a little too overpowering at the bar.

After taking my prom date home, I finally pulled into my driveway around 2AM.  I'm an exhausted little Lulu, but there's always more to do.  I'm off!