Food court security.
Food
Court
Security
Do you need a sheriff’s card for that gig, or?
Qualifications: Make sure the trays are stacked properly on top of the garbage bins; Yell at people to walk not run; Direct people to the giant bathroom sign that reads bathroom; Attend special hospitality training to properly tip your make believe cowboy hat as you grip your pretend hip holster belt buckle and say, “Ma’am” as the ladies walk by.
If you can invent a job, Vegas has it.
Food court security. Thanks for entertaining me while I was ordering my Panda Express.
So yesterday I took a look at where that guy’s condo is. And let me just say...
You can’t live by the strip. I mean you can. It’s just not advisable especially for a single woman. Information that would have been useful to me before living here by myself. Much like anywhere else, you pay a lot more to live near the city’s main attraction, in Vegas it’s the strip, obviously, a place locals avoid at all cost even Lyft drivers. Directly outside the strip five to ten miles in every direction is all ghetto. Junkies. Drug dealers. Street hookers. Pimps. Homeless people. Mentally ill. — Like Venice, CA., but without the beautiful weather and ocean.
While checking out the neighborhood of this dude’s condo, I noticed in the middle of the street, directly in front of the condo was an abandoned shopping cart, which in Vegas means only one thing, there’s an opening to the underground homeless city nearby. I crossed the street and found the opening.
Yeah. No thanks.
Pass.
Last night...
I had drinks with a girl I work with. She’s Vegas born and likes the dive bars. The bar we went to is nearby a restaurant I’ve gone to a few times. It’s such a dive bar I’ve passed it several times without even knowing it was there. Cool little spot though. Good bartenders. And their house wine is pretty decent actually. If we hang out, and you like dive bars, we’ll go.
Moving on.
And my friends think I’m weird because I know how much voltage is required for shock therapy? I just saw an elephant give birth, repeatedly, because my friends reposted this video all god damn morning. Eeewwwwwwe. Damnit Facebook! So this is how my day is going to start, eh? Elephant afterbirth on loop!
Um
Yogurt anyone??
Blaaaaaaaah!
After checking out Zillow, Apartments.com, Apartmentfinder, and Craigslist, it seems the average one bedroom apartment is about $900-$1200 a month. Still $1,300 less than in LA. Ok. Fine.
But...
Do I have to see hookers blowing some fat slob every time I go to check the mail??
Look...
Not that I want to spend the rest of my life alone but being with a man can’t be harder than being alone. I refuse to be with someone who makes my life harder. You don’t have to like the things I do, just stay out of my way. That’s all. I’ll stay out of your way. You stay out of mine. Why is this so hard for men?
Contrary to what Bob Gordon says, I would happily date someone regular if they understood sometimes I need my damn space, I’m going to keep my own apartment, I’m going to do shit you’re not going to understand, just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.
Be my spirit otter.
Ok?
No comments:
Post a Comment