Sunday, August 30, 2009
Egads...How many times does it have to be thrown in my face that I'm becoming a geezer? Took the gambling fools to Pechanga and we went to the round bar to drink because the only gambling I really like nowadays is wondering if the bartender will take my IOU. (It works for Arnold.) The club inside the casino just recently reopened ($30 cover charge!) and we had primo seats for people going in. I guess I should do a disclaimer here or something. I would gladly and happily have gone to clubs to listen to the bands in my 20s but my ex, well, he thought those places were too loud. Like, duh, no shit Sherlock. Youth really is wasted on the young.
Anyway, we were sitting right at the bottom of the stairs where everyone was walking up. Tattoos are definitely a defining statement of the 20 somethings. They were everywhere and seemingly on everyone. There were enough sleeves to make tank tops an oxymoron. And since the size of the dresses was little more than the size of my laptop monitor, there was a lot of skin showing. Watching the little dresses go up the stairs was highly entertaining. Not that I could really see anything. Every time a set of cheeks was headed up the stairs, a bunch of guys were going up the stairs, too. It was like magic. And it is way funny to watch the guys in my age range, geezer launching pad, busy cheek chasing. I'm pretty sure when I was 23 that a guy in his 40s and 50s would not have even registered on my radar.
I don't think my mom did so well gambling. They were ready to leave before midnight. I offered to come back and get them even if it was 3 or 4 in the morning. They have been known to come in that late in Vegas. Why do gamblers think slot machine are alive? They talk to them, they do magic finger waves over the screen while it is spinning. One lady I remember had her purse on a stool next to her while she played the slot and in her purse was a stuffed animal poking its head out of the purse and pointed toward the slot...for good luck. She would pet the animal and pull the handle (back before all the push button technology!). Kinda of reminded me of Professor Trelawney in Harry Potter.
They had a good time though. Chicken tacos, cake and ice cream, and wishing my mom a very Happy Birthday~! As my mom said to Me Too, her gambling partner and neighbor, there is a 20 year age difference between her and I...and I'm 20 years older. Talk about revisionist history. Sheesh.
Posted by Happy Hour...Somewhere at 1:50 PM