I had the privilege of bringing The Oma on a recent business trip to Las Vegas. For a more comprehensive experience of his adventures, I encourage you to visit The Oma Today Project. While the primary mission of the week in Vegas was business, The Oma did manage to see the sights and enjoy the debauchery for which Las Vegas is famous.
Following are several outtake photos from the adventure that might have exceeded the boundaries of good taste to allow publication on the primary blog. But The Oma made so many new friends, I had to share them in this more R-rated forum.
An innocent start to the night. Thank you to the services of a Chicago resident for giving The Oma a boost.
The Oma moves in to uncork the wine
…and promptly drains the bottle
Later that night, The Oma is kidnapped and spends the night with someone other than Betty.
After taking a night off for room service and healing, The Oma knows his nights in Vegas are numbered and decides to make some new friends.
When I travel for work, a portion of my onsite business involves the use of bald mannequin heads for educational purposes. We have a supply of 50 of these heads that get shipped from location to location as needed. The bald mannequin heads were last used in Las Vegas then shipped to Florida for use last weekend.
As we set up the meeting room in which the heads would be used, I cut open one of the boxes and pulled out a mannequin….with a full head of hair. Hair that looked as if it had been styled with an egg beater. All 50 of them had hair. Not a baldy in the shipment.
How on earth did these bald mannequin heads grow hair on a simple trip from Las Vegas to Florida? I’ll bet a pharmaceutical company would pay big bucks to find out.
I wanted to find out too. I needed bald heads. So I tucked the hairy mannequin under my arm and set off to find the operations manager who might know the answer. I finally located him and the instant he saw me walk into the room, he looked at me and said, “Hey, that’s Viola. What’s she doing here?”
We never really discovered what happened with the shipment (or, for that matter, why the operations manager christened her Viola.) We all had a new friend named Viola.
I did feel as if I had two heads when I woke up that morning
After someone braided her nest of hair, she became my assistant and went to work.
Freshly coiffed, Viola promptly attracted the attention of a man.
Once the workday was over, she had dinner.
Viola's carnage
The next morning, Viola refused to leave the hotel room for work. She insisted on lounging in bed all day.
I returned to my room after dinner at 9:00pm to begin packing for a 6am departure from the hotel the next morning. Before I could place even one item in my suitcase, a text came in: “Party in suite #301…please bring Viola.”
Viola quickly bellied up to the bar. No. Necked up to the bar?
I get the sense that the only reason I was invited was to transport Viola.
She was really trying to kidnap Viola
Sue tried to shield Viola from the ensuing debauchery. My best intentions to pack and get to bed early were shot to hell. We didn’t get back to the room to begin packing until 1:30am, just three short hours before the wake up call. As a result, trying to pack in an organized fashion was impossible. I had intended to pack Viola in my checked bag – a colleague explained that a ventriloquist friend of his regularly encountered TSA problems when trying to carry on his dummies.
I just couldn’t manage to jam her into the suitcase to be checked. In the end, she had to travel in my carry on bag and eventually made it through TSA screening without a hitch!
No ticket required for her
So, Viola has become a resident of the Bubble. She broke from the pack of the other 49 heads and has retired from having complete strangers massage her face several times a year and travel among destinations via truck while shrink wrapped to a pallet.
Viola meets the wiener dog
But that doesn’t mean her party days are over. Viola has big plans for the neighbors on Halloween.
The story made me recall my first awareness of the existence of wax museums. This occurred in the mid-90s during several months of European travel. First I came across Madame Tussauds in London. Although the line to enter was impressive, it did nothing to pique my interest.
This is a wax image of Princess Di, but she was still alive when I visited London. Image via Wikipedia.
Several weeks later while visiting Monaco, I came across a modest wax museum featuring the Royal Family of Monaco – the Wax Museum of the Princes of Monaco. There was no line. Curious to investigate the fascination, I went in. The museum featured life size models of members of the Grimaldi Dynasty dressed in costumes from the time they lived and ruled. Good times.
During a recent stay in New York involving a few cab rides that crawled through Times Square, no matter the day, no matter the time, the line for Madame Tussauds snaked down the sidewalk.
Will someone please tell me why these places exist? What on earth is the big deal about staring at a wax figurine, even if it is someone “famous?” I understand that some folks enjoy having their photo taken standing next to their favorite celebrities. BUT THEY’RE NOT REAL! Come on now, what’s the point? “Hey look, sis – when I was in New York, I ran into Beyonce and had my photo taken with her!”
"I love SVU," slurred Betty
I’m not above stalking down a real live celebrity for a photo opportunity.
Just last year, my friend and I chased down Ice-T and his wife, Coco, in Las Vegas for a photo opportunity. But we talked with both of them and came away with a lot more from the experience than a slippery hand. That experience cost us nothing. To visit a wax museum, you’ll pay any where from $10 to even $30.
I did hear that there is a wax image of Robert Pattinson. Hmmm….if it’s anatomically correct, $30 might be quite reasonable.
Gratuitous photo placement of a man young enough to be my son. Image via Wikipedia.
As many of you know, my partner-in-crime here in the Bubble left last summer to move to sunny (and humid) Florida. June B. Stewart as slowly been acclimating herself and her three dogs (Smoke, JuneBug and Megan aka Dega) to their new home filled with new adventures and experiences.
I’ve received positive feedback in the past to having June send us reports on her escapades. Here is the first of what will hopefully be many updates on life in the swamp.
Hey Y’all, <look, she’s gone all southern on us>
Well it’s our 1st Hanukkah in the swamp. Tried to explain the whole thing to Megan but like Smoke & Junebug only perked when I mentioned presents for 8 days.
Neighbors seem to be interested in helping us celebrate
Speaking of Megan (who I’m trying to get to answer to Dega, get it – Talladega) Here she is.
I think I sent pics of the boat I was interested in purchasing. Well, due to recent heavy rains & lack of funds I’ve had second thoughts. Not really interested in submarine.
Finally got some sheers on LR windows & neighbors across pond are thrilled.
Junebug’s not so sure they’re a good thing
And of course they scare Smoke. But yet, he was able to go after a Huskie that scared Junebug. Go figure.
I’ve started to redecorate master bath & so far very pleased with the improvements. What do you think?
That’s all for now. Hope everyone had a great Turkey day.
Let’s face it. Everyone’s got their own idea of Facebook’s place in the world. There are those who sign on minimally – the anonymous avatar, birth date and year just slightly off , only a list of the last few “Betty is now friends with Hippie Cahier,” type posts. Others jump in a little bit deeper, adding a photo, venturing back a few decades to high school and remaining current with some friends made along the professional way. Some of these folks simply lurk, others dabble with comments across a wide range of friends.
Then there’s the set of Facebook friends we all dread: the all-out friend whore multi-level assault.
Of course, there are different levels of assault. Most annoying is the “friend” who reaches out to every person they can call to memory (and often some they can’t), then communicate as if they were best friends back in the 70s or 80s (even if they rolled in different circles), and post TMI status updates.
Today, however, I’m writing about the joy that diverse friend bases can bring. Unlike many who enjoy the quantity friendship Facebook can provide, my “friend” list is fluid. I would say I’m active on the site at least once a week and take a few moments every Friday to “thin the herd. “
Those who remain are a group appreciated for the variety of things they add to my life. Just a few minutes ago, I signed onto Facebook and viewed the home page listing the most recent news from my friends. It warmed my heart to see the following two updates side-by-side (one is an “actual” friend, the other is a “fan friend” for a driver in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series):
<name deleted to protect the innocent> werd up these new babymomma stollers look like escalades…me and my brother were zip tied and ducked taped to my uncles old unicycle with a leash…. · Comment · Like
XXXX driver Just got home from qualifying to a house full of Krissie’s family for another baby shower. It’s amazing how someone so small will require so much stuff! · Comment · Like
I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. You see, my partner-in-crime here in the Bubble, June B. Stewart, has moved south. Yes, I’ve known it was coming but I refused to acknowledge it until the very end. I’ve finally stopped blubbering like a 12 year old. Even though technology will help, it’s hard to lose someone who I’ve seen almost every day of my life for nearly a decade.
He's moving south with her.
(For the NASCAR-impaired, Dale Earnhardt Jr’s nickname is June Bug and her other favorite driver is Tony Stewart.)
This blog was, in fact, partially inspired by June. Over the last eight years as we walked our dogs, June would entertain me with stories about the characters here in our neighborhood – from Witness Protection Frank to Bucky & Blinky, The COB (Crusty Old Bitch) to Not-Brian, there was rarely a dull moment in the Bubble. Emergency vehicles entering the condo complex? We’d leash up the dogs and go investigate. June would often joke that we could write a book, or at least a soap opera, about this place.
June and her dogs left the Bubble yesterday and should be rolling into their new hometown in about a half hour. She will immediately begin scouring her new neighborhood for the new cast of characters. We’ve discussed the possibility of introducing June’s Corner as a semi-regular feature here on Betty’s Bubble. All in favor?
You’re probably wondering about the “210 boxes.” While June sold and/or donated virtually every piece of furniture from her condo here, she still hired movers for the rest of her belongings. I watched as she disassembled her home over the last several weeks. The amount of “stuff” that came out of every nook and cranny was astonishing. There was a period of about three full weeks where even though boxes were being filled and taped, the amount of stuff occupying every square inch of floor, counter and table top space never decreased.
We organized a going away party for June that was held ten days ago at her place (we were going to have it elsewhere, but she volunteered the venue.) When I entered her place two days before the party to do a site inspection and pre-event planning, I panicked thinking that there was no possible way we’d accommodate 30+ people in there. I asked her if she regretted making the venue offer or if the upcoming party was providing motivation. The answer was a little of both.
In the end, June pulled it together for the party and, eventually, the moving van – 210 boxes worth. That’s 210 boxes of stuff from a two bedroom, two and a half bath (approximately 1500 square foot) condo. That’s approximately 35 boxes of stuff from each room. How is that possible? I didn’t think these places had enough storage to accommodate that much stuff.
I’ll be visiting her new home in November. I’m guessing she’ll still be unpacking then. In the meantime, I wish my dear friend the best of luck…and now I’ve got to go grab the box of tissues again. It’s going to be three days before I can get my contact lenses back in my eyes.
