What happens here, totally happens and sometimes, it sucks.

I'm not sure if it's the heat that has arrived (pre-maturely) or not, but lately, I've been trying to wrap my brain around this town called Las Vegas. More specifically, what it's like to actually live here. As a tourist, you see about 4 miles. Not square miles, mind you; a four mile long road full of shit to do. Oh, and there are some mountains. That you can see from your hotel. You laugh, party, go out to dinner, enjoy your disposable income. That's where Vegas can be great.

When you live here, though, it really makes you think about the effects that can have on a "community". Sometimes, I wonder if the "community" in Las Vegas isn't just an extension of the casino workers union. It's almost too transient of a vibe here to think about planting roots. I guess it's like that in most tourist towns. Maybe not. Who knows?

The natural beauty is astounding here.

The magnitude of it all is positively humbling. Just like anyone living anywhere different from where they grew up, I find myself missing things. Like rain. And grass. And leaf change. Little hills, curvy roads, dewy lawns, lush woods. But at the same time, I've learned to embrace purple sunsets and fire red mountains, desert breezes, lakes with rock spires, and growing tomatoes almost all year long.

I think people who live here are a bit afraid of the fact that crime may overtake this city, despite its efforts to be "family friendly". I am. Random shit happens here. I laugh when I contrast the news I used to hear in my rural college town ("The missin' horse was found. Took so long, 'cus someone put hair dye on him, and made him a different color." [True, by the way] ) to "Although both halves of the body were recovered from two different dumpsters, only one was charred." [also true. ew.] There's an urban tension for sure, due to the latest immigration debates. It's weird. I don't know. By they way, our newscaster's name is Rikki Cheese.

So, what does it mean to live in Vegas? It's keeping your fingers crossed that the city will find a balance between hedonism and common ground. That they don't decide to dump nuclear waste in the desert. That buffetts will cost less than $25 after 5pm. That's my rant for now.

Please levitate in my lobby.

OK, first I must admit, that I'm totally writing this super-fast because I missed The Hills last night and am catching up at the 11 o'clock Thursday hour. Yeah, I know. Whateves.

SOOOO. Chris Angel (David Blain's ASS-KICKER, for those who don't know) came into the office yesterday. He and his posse walk in and couldn't have been cooler. Totes got the autograph, yet did not get the picture, because my camera phone is so anti-climatic in it's three year old age.

Anyway, I commented on how much more I liked this season, and he gave me the two-handed "cupp" of a handshake, and then I got all freaked out, like he was reading my mind. Or he was going to open his mouth and my name would be in ash on his tounge or something. So, I stuck with an autograph.

P.S. Could Chris Angel be the lead singer of Ratt, or what??