Three More Things That Are Pretty Amusing: Cartoon Sports Agents, Scary Trees and Post Cancer Hair

Hello Fellow Travelers!

This dude (James Woods) from the movie, "Rio"- I had his do yesterday!  Exactly what was he?

Or this one, creepy!

See the scary tree from "The Ring??  That's was My Hair This Morning!

I'd be remiss in describing this odyssey without making mention of my always-changing mane.  It''s yet another example of how I was destined to prevail over brain cancer. And it cracks me up!  I always had a ton of hair.  I was born for the "big hair" 80's.

I was never swarthy though, I never rocked a unibrow, I just had a lot of hair!

I was a Leo and I always identified with the lion's mane.

Radiation took away about 50% of my hair, leaving plenty, more than necessary.  So I cut it short.   Really short.  Then really, really short.  And it still  grows back, wavy, thick, unstoppable.  I was hoping for sort of a futuristic "Vulcan", thing  (you know Spocky, minimal).

Before anyone asks, hairless is not possible.  And I still fall so I need to cover some obvious battle scars.  Also, to go bald, you need to be mostly hairless  and as I've mentioned, I am not folically challenged.

And to "go Telly Savalas", you need a perfectly shaped head!

I received a well-intentioned wig, but I've never used it.  Wigs scare me a little.  Especially if I discover one.  Have you ever discovered a hairpiece?  It's like finding a dead rodent somewhere!  (I get startled whenever I come across it, reminds me of the Japanese Water Ghost in "The Grudge").

So I'm living with (and constantly cutting off) what's left of my hair.

And mostly, it's taken care of itself.  I keep it cut and clean and as I change, it remains the same.  OK, serviceable, no trouble.  In  short, it works.  Or so I thought.

Yesterday I had a mohawk that would impress Guy Fieri's hairstylist and today I had a seaside cypress tree on my head!  WTH?

What will I wake up to tomorrow morning? The Tower of London in hair ? A recreation of "The Battle of Gettysburg" on top of my head?

I am currently able to rearrange  (undo the "do", as it were) these "hairstyles run amok" with a little water and a comb.   It's not cancer, so who cares?  It's not a log on my bonfire o' stress either.

But this morning's cranial crop circles  did make me question their origin;  is it something inside my brain that's fueling these "Edward Scissorhands Hairdon'ts"?  Is this a normal "bed-head" thing? Or is it something more?

Bottom line? Hair is dead.  I'm alive.  I'll get a trim.

I ordered a lemon tree.

What Do Astrocytomas and American Olympic Swimmers Have in Common? The PS!

 

Caught You Looking!  He's so dreamy!  Must be the hair!  Same Azure Blue as his eyes!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

What does a glance at the D-Bag of US Swimming, gold medal winner and all-around moron ("Dude, we were robbed!  At gunpoint!") have to do with spiritual enlightenment and "the discipline of gratitude"?  At first glance it would seem nothing. A closer look reveals they share one thread, a common element; my patient spouse's sometimes bizarre sense of humor.

My PS was  traveling to  the Oakland Hills for business.  But before getting to the picturesque hills he had to drive through downtown Oakland, old school 'hood, before anyone was "Straight Outta Compton", where Denzel was shot  to death in his car.  At a stoplight!  (Well, maybe "Training Day" was supposed to be in Philly or Baltimore ("The Wire") but you get the idea.

After seeing death I'm always preparing for danger.  It doesn't help that my PS is a bit of a wild one.  My cellphone was swiped a few years back, I wrote it off.  My PS used the GPS in my phone, located it and confronted the  dudes who threw the phone at him.

I was impressed but mostly I was scared.  He could have been hurt.   A phone?  It didn't matter.

Material items don't matter..  My PS matters a great deal.

I was therefore extra concerned yesterday when he drove through O-Town.

In "GOT" terms, getting to the Oakland Hills is kind of like Cersei's "Walk of Shame" to the Red Keep; You can see the castle in the distance but you have to go through a gauntlet to get there.

Since brain surgery (Thank you,Hamid!), I've become even more "risk averse".

I am never surprised by anything and I expect catastrophe at any moment, disaster at every turn.

After a very nervous few hours, I received a call from the PS,  He was on his way out of Oakland.

He said he had a flat tire and thought someone was stopping to help and he was robbed.

At gunpoint!

He goes on to tell me he's OK, the police had already been there and he was getting home without his wallet, meanwhile I'm busy looking up Western Union outlets and bank phone numbers.

I notice he sounds pretty smooth.  He sounds really relaxed for someone who just had a firearm pointed at them.

So before I directed  him to the nearest telegram place, it comes to me, I figure it out.  I'm slow but I remember what he thinks is funny.

"You're messing with me, aren't you.  This is one of your sick jokes."

Peals of laughter come through the other end..

"I'm a Gold Medal douche, and I was robbed!   At gunpoint!" he howled!

Hahaha.  Very funny, not.  I was worried.  Really nervous actually.

I am always looking for laughs, almost as much as I'm always looking for quality baked goods.

However, the PS calling me and doing a "Lochte" is just a complete mystery to me.

I just don't get it. I don't think it's funny.   Never did and I never will.

And he's always doing it.   And I'm like Robin Leach,(or Dana Carvey's impression of Leach), "I don't know why."

To quote a medalist who actually was a victim of a hare-brained scheme, Nancy Kerrigan, "Why?"

We get it, if my PS tells me about any sort of impending doom I'll send out the militia.

If it's a false alarm I'll stand down (heck, I'll just be thrilled to stand.  Up, down, whatever)

Is it a "guy" thing?  An O'Reilly thing?  What?

I spend a lot of energy getting "disaster-ready", as Tina Fey once observed on SNL, "Bitch, I can't be on higher alert!"

So if Prince is in a can or your refrigerator is running,do not call me!  It's not funny and I don't care!

I'm talking to you, love of my life!

I believe anything you tell me.  Tricking me is like tripping a dwarf - not difficult.

I'm busy relearning toddler skills, seriously, stop tripping me!

OK, it's a little funny...

PPV Boxing, Legalized Gambling and Neon that can be seen from Space? I'm So There!

Hello Fellow Travelers!

As in almost everywhere I've gone since 2011, last week's trip to Las Vegas was surprisingly interesting.I expected a decent T-shirt and nothing more.  Mostly, I was prepared to be really hot (115) and blinded by neon signage and fake everything.  What I was not expecting was thoroughly enjoying our stay at the Vegas Hard Rock Hotel, but I actually dug it, so you're just going to have to sit there and read about it!

My son channeling his inner Dylan 

Ever hear the expression, "lipstick on a pig"? Or just trying too hard?  The result for pork, people, hotels is always the same - overdone, tacky.  But unlike the newer, family-friendly hotels on the strip, the Hard Rock doesn't try to be all things to all ages.  From the jump, the HRH is decidedly adult.  The cocktail waitresses look like they might punch you and then bring your drink.  I mean they're pretty, but they all look they know what brass knuckles are for.  They look tough!

That place isn't cheesy anymore, it feels gritty!

The rock memorabilia looks oddly appropriate alongside the colorful, noisy, slot machines.

Even the elevators have steel rails engraved with iconic rock/elevator lyrics.

The hallway sconces are  cymbals from drum kits and the 70's Style/very gothic iron chandeliers are   dripping with strings of green crystals.

Another benefit of being disabled? (who am I trying to kid?  There are no benefits.  None.  Nada)  On helicopters you get to sit closest to an exit (door) so theoretically I can fall out faster.  It's a lousy benefit, but it did afford me an excellent view of Lake Mead!   Due to the predicted heat (115) we opted for the sunrise tour.  Best (and easiest) decision I ever made.

I never would have chosen the Hard Rock Hotel but it was the right choice.

It's a little out-of-date, a little rough, and very musical.

The plexiglassed sequined ensembles of Prince, Lady GaGa and Johnny Cash are a little glamorous and just a tad grimy,  Very rock-and-roll!  And very small!  Steven Tyler might have big lips but the rest of him is tiny!  And Prince?  Teeny-tiny!

Gaga's costume was crystal and resembled a chandelier but it looked like it was worn by a human being.

My PS recently acquired a gorgeous, caramel-colored 12 string, and my son is learning to play. I therefore, get to hear a lot of Lennon & McCartney which I really like and a lot of Tom Petty songs that I don't like so much.  While we were in Las Vegas we saw the interactive (no joke-it was) Cirque du Soleil show that loosely follows the Beatles' musical journey.

The show was fantastic and very French (You're rocking out to "Back In The USSR" and with no backstory or context a crying clown suddenly appears.)

We then went to Sedona.

I've probably been to Las Vegas a dozen times and had no use for it.  I always thought it was just a tacky slot machine in the desert, forget the Rat Pack.

Seeing the sun rise in a helicopter, over the Grand Canyon gives me an entirely new view of Nevada.  I needed a new view.  Stevie Ray Vaughan said it best:  "If the hotel is rockin', don't bother knockin, come on in!"
It must be true it's on the front of the hotel in iron letters!