Riding In Limos With Girls

Thanks to Micah for this fabulous photo of his Shadow Dancers. Check his own blog for
other Vegas details.

Las Vegas is a great place to feel a little bit like a celebrity.

From all the glamorous clothing to the incredible bling (by the way, did y'all know apparently it's very out to say "bling bling", whereas a single "bling" is okay?), everyone looks just so sensational there, including yours truly.

My girls and I (in the picture l to r: MacBoob, me, Nik and D Money) decided to use our little excursion to Sin City to live large.

Saturday we spent several hours out by the pool, laying in our bikinis while sipping on incredible frozen drinks and checking out the merchandise. I was especially fond of the two, buff Italian twins we saw cruising the pools (Haven't I mentioned them already? They're worth a second plug). We also chatted up a table of chaps from Jolly Old England, all with some great tattoos and sexy accents. Who knew I would go for the Inked type.

After the most luxurious meal I've ever eaten in my life which says a lot considering I've had a privileged upbringing and am a huge foodie (details coming soon), we decided to take a limo ride around The Strip.

The four of us piled in the stretch at 10 pm. The driver was all ours for an hour, and we wanted to see the sights. We cruised down the strip southbound until we made it to the hallowed Las Vegas sign for pictures. Along the way we sipped on fine champagne, raised the privacy partition and cranked up the stereo to jam to hip hop music.

We all hopped around the six seats in the back, taking turns at the different vantage points. Being the loud one in the group, I felt obligated every once in a while to lower the tinted window and yell a "Woooo hooo!" to the passers by. At one point XXXXXX felt so inclined to flash the cars driving by, and that's when we got wrangled in with a car that followed us for a good couple miles, hoping they'd get another glimpse at glory.

We took a the limo to The Palms to get in to Ghost Bar and Rain. One of us girls has a connection to the Maloof brothers, so we were able to slink by the quarter mile long lines, the velvet ropes and the registers to get in as VIPs for free. Paris Hilton was there. Really she was. D Money and I were hanging in the limo when we got there and missed her, but MacBoob and Nik caught a glimpse as Paris was walking out, cell phone flipped open and sunglasses on. At 11 pm.

When we made it up to Ghost Bar, we were treated to one of the hippest drinking scenes I've ever seen. FHM was having a private party off to the side where I caught a look at the newly divorced Jenny McCarthy. We went out to the patio and I was more than a bit cautious as I stepped on the super thick pane of glass 55 floors up, but I had to do it for posterity's sake.

We moved on to Rain, again bypassing all the lines and getting a personal usher into the club by one of the very attractive (and very buff) bouncers, complete with sexy black suit.

Once inside Rain, I could feel the heat coming off the fireballs exploding out of the lighting system above. There was a crazy, twisty network of layers circling the dance floor and the perimeter, and our little neon VIP bands got us just about everywhere we wanted to go. Well, except for the six or so private rooms you could rent out in exchange for the Hope diamond or your first born.

All in all, we were living a tricked out lifetyle of luxury, and I loved every minute of it.

Well, at least until the clock struck midnight.

Clarence and Rocky

So, Clarence and Rocky were my airline companions on the way from Chi-town to Sin City.

I spotted these two dudes as soon as I was approaching the terminal gate. Their respective gazes washed up and down me and my black high heels, big black sunglasses and silver, sparkly scarf.

Hey, I like to dress up for any occasion, and I was gonna get to Vegas in style.

Anyway.

I gave the gate attendant my ticket and approached my seat. 15A. Right next to the window on a Ted (by United) Airbus. And there were Clarence and Rocky.

Rocky was in the seat on the aisle. He had a tattoo that looked like a stingray on his arm and he was wearing a pair of big, baggy Sean Jean sweat pants and a sleeveless gray t-shirt. There was a ring on his left hand with a little bit of ice on it and he had his headphones on.

Clarence was getting ready to be the meat in our little seat sandwich. He had on a red and khaki argyle St. Louis Cardinals hat, bill flipped to the side, and two big rocks in his ears. His face especially looked like that of Fitty Cent (as I like to call him), what with his thin trace of a beard along the jaw line. I think that 50 is pretty hot so I had no complaints sitting next to the likes of Clarence.

He and I hit it off immediately. He grilled me on why I was going to Vegas, who I was going with and what I was going to when I got there.

For fun, three other girls, and down a really great drink.

Anyway.

Clarence started joking with me in a familiar way. You know, the kind of joking that only comes when you're comfortable with someone. You know they're not going to be offended by your teasing and you know both parties involved are going to laugh after the comments start flying.

And that, my friends, is when he started talking about my titties.

If only Dave Chappelle were there. Clarence started talking just like him. "Kate, I must say, you have some mighty fine titties."

Oh. My. God.

I was in a really great mood (I mean, who wouldn't be. I was on my way to Vegas, c'mon) so I laughed it off and totally rolled along with the punches. Believe me, if he had freaked me out, I probably would have decked him.

I was fighting off serious exhaustion (I had worked my overnight shift immediately before jetting off for the Cincy airport) so I told C-Dawg I'd be getting some shut eye for a while. I woke up when the drink cart came by "I'll take a Miller Lite, please" and then Clarence and I resumed our chatting.

Rocky was pretty much the strong but silent type.

Clarence told me his cousin "Is married but that can become an optional kind of situation when we get to Vegas." We started talking about relationships, and the nuances that come when black men date white women.

Yes, we talked about nuances big and small.

For all the testosterone, Clarence was actually a pretty cool guy. He held my hand a couple times during some rough turbulence (I don't mind flying, but I really freak during the bouncy stuff) and he had a way of making me laugh.

Rocky, Clarence and I got off the plane when it was time to go, and we parted with a handshake and a So long.

The chance meeting was a great experience because it showed me a pure exchange of kindness and friendship between two passing souls from different places, different backgrounds and different stations in life.

And it reminded me that the first thing guys notice about me are my, well, you know.

Livin' La Vita Vegas

Well, I'm back from Vegas, and all I can say is this: My girls and I had a blast.

From watching the two dark and handsome Italian twins at the pool at Caesaers (Holla!) to flashing other drivers from the back of our limo (and, ehem, it wasn't with our cameras), we all had a blast.

In fact, we're planning on making it an annual sojourn. Y'all are welcome to crash in our room, provided you bring along some booze and can hop in and out of the shower in 10 minutes flat.

Anyway.

I'm going to try and write one little vignette each day this week to give you some of the flava- flav of just what went down in Sin City.

Well, I'll at least tell you the stuff we've all agreed to share with others.

Oh, Dontcha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?

Baby, You're Money

Kate the Great is getting ready for the big trip to Vegas.

The flight leaves Cincinnati's international airport tomorrow at 10:45 am. I arrive in Sin City at 4:30 Vegas time.

In my bags:
1-Black "Hustler" T-shirt. Not so much a fan of the porn industry as I am Jimmy Flynt's fierce protection of the First Amendment. My fellow journalists and I thank the man from Kentucky.
1-Pair of those oversized black sunglasses. Paired with my new flirty, blonde hairstyle, people are sure to mistake me for someone I'm not.
1-Bottle of rum.
1-Black bikini.
1-box of granola bars
1-four pack of Red Bull
2-Pairs of high heels. One black, the other silver with sequins.
Lots of cash
1-Glamour magazine
My trusty Burberry ballcap. Perfect for when I have a hangover or want to go incognito.
My pajamas. Don't really know whether I'll make it in them.
Two purses (one red box clutch and one black nylon hobo.)
My makeup.
Flat iron, hair dryer, curling iron and 5 different styling products.
Bottle of Tylenol.
Cell phone and a bunch of business cards

Am I forgetting anything?

Ewww, Thanks.

Little boys have a strange way of showing their affection for a person.

I remember when I was a girl, I'd babysit these two boys who lived next store. They'd bring me worms and spiders and other gross things to me with big smiles splashed across their faces, beaming like they'd just found the Holy Grail.

I would kind of smile as I cringed away, kind of holding out my hand and wincing at the same time.

It seems that the same MO applies as boys turn into men.

I love to cook, this is no secret. What is secret is my banana bread recipe. I've taken a bit of my mom's and a bit of Mama Zimmerman's (my grandmother used to vacation with her) and come up with a combination I'll take to my grave.

Okay, I'll probably share it with my kids.

But anyway.

I like to save those nasty, yucky brown bananas for my bread. I pop 'em in the freezer when they start getting really mushy... All that bruising has a way of bringing out the bananas' flavors.

Remember my old friend Ground Chuck? A while back I resigned myself to the fact that he and I just possibly weren't meant to be. Our time had come and gone, like two electrons briefly colliding before spinning off in two completely different orbits.

Well somehow, Ground Chuck's orbit has been seeing its way into my path lately.

This morning he came up to me as I sat at my spot in Studio Control before my newscast. He slinked his way into the room with nary a word, only one of those head nods guys do with their chin... the kind of thing that is sometimes accompanied by a "'Sup?"

Then, after I acknowledged the head nod, he plunked a big, plastic grocery bag on my desk.

"I thought you might want these."

Oh, how I was hopeful. Maybe they were peppers or tomatoes I could use to make salsa. Maybe he brought me doughnuts for breakfast. Maybe it was the new Coach bag I've been pining after.

Hey. A girl can dream, right?

Nope. It was a bunch of yucky, brown bananas. I should have held my tongue but my initial instincts took over and I let out a big Ewww, grosss!

I should have known better. This was his moment. This was his attempt to shore up what wisp of a friendship we had floating out there between us. This was his earthworm, and my single, selfish exclamation totally crushed any hope and thoughtfulness he had bubbling beneath the surface.

If I had an evil twin, she would have bitch slapped me at that moment.

I quickly double backed with a "Thanks, I can't wait to use them. That was really nice of you," but I could see his facial expression bursting with crushed anticipation.

Okay, so maybe I'm not the only totally un-slick person in this relationship, whatever it is.

He came to visit me at my desk after my show and I chatted him up with a thanks and a "Hey, when are we going to the driving range again. We haven't been in forever." It was my way of saying, Hey, I want to be friends with you, too.

Sometimes volumes can be said in the words that aren't.

Weather Watcher

I've changed my "weather girl" on the left side of the margin in honor of my trip to Vegas Friday. She's a little vampy and she tells the temperature for that great spot in the desert.

I haven't decided whether I'm going to bring the pink wig with me.

10 Questions

1) Should I get a "Hustler" t-shirt to wear in Las Vegas?

2) Is it okay for a girl to ring up a guy whom she used to be good friends with but hadn't seen in six years or so and they only recently went out for drinks last week, and well, is it okay for her to call him to see if he wants to grab another drink and or bite?

3) In reference to number 2, what does it mean when the guy says "God, Kate. I am so glad to have run into you. I forgot how much fun you are." ???

4) And in addendum to 2 and 3, what does it mean when said guy says "Chick (fyi, this quote came after I referred to the chick who lived above me). Reminds me of the old days. That's what I love about you, Kate. You're a guy's girl." What the hell does that mean?

5) About how much money should I plan on gambling while in Vegas next weekend? I'm not a big gambler, I don't feel real comfortable at the Blackjack tables, and I think the slots are lame. My friend referred to in questions 2/3/4 says I should try Craps because I'm a virgin at that game. At 28, it's nice to know I'm a virgin at something.

6) Should I try the topless tanning at Caesar's? I don't know that my chest would be the most comfortable place to get a burn.

7) What's the best way to go about getting a personal trainer? There are a bevy of them (many good looking gents, I might add) walking around my gym, but I'm worried about how obligated I'd be with sticking with once I got one. Okay, the truth is out. I'm a bit of a committment phobe.

8) I'm in the beginning (way, way, way beginning) stages of looking for my next car. Yippee. I hear my mom's nagging voice in my head complaining that I park on the street at home and -ee gads- it snows where I live. Is a convertable really out of the question?

9) If you had to pick one bill to pay, which one would it be: the cable or your cell phone? That last question is possibly hypothetical as my financial situation greatly hinges on my responsibility in Vegas. A girl with a great rack can count on a free drink here and there, right? And a pox on all of you who point out the white elephant in the room (read: my financial irresponsibility). God said "Eat, drink and be merry. For tomorrow we die." Oh wait, that was Dave Matthews. Anyway.

10) What is the shelf life of homemade sangria? It's been in my fridge for a week now and I just don't have the heart to throw it away. But it's wine and rum and sugar (and some fruit juice) so it can't really go bad, can it?

Everything Happens For A Reason

Don't you ever wonder why things happen the way they do?

Sometimes fate (or God, depending on your beliefs) has a way of guiding you in and out of life. You might bitch and moan when you get stopped at a red light while you're in a rush, but maybe it's that very stoplight that holds you back from getting slammed by a semi in the road ahead.

Maybe choosing the elevator on the right instead of the one on the left will lead you to the love of your life.

Perhaps the person you sit next to on the plane will introduce you to your next career.

At any rate, everything happens for a reason, and I wonder if I just discovered the reason why I signed up for a dating website.

My profile apparently got sent to a guy I knew from back in the day in college.

No, I'm not picking out wedding dresses yet (you know me so well), but the whole discovery did make me happy.

Friday Party Buffet

Appetizer
Name 3 people whom you admire for their intelligence.
-I really respect and admire my junior/senior year high school english teacher. The passion this man has for the written word is infectious.
-I also admire my former anchor in Lexington. The man is brilliant, sensitive, and perhaps the best living sound machine/impersonator I've ever met.
-Finally, I admire Jessica Simpson for her intelligence. Seriously, that chick has made a boatload of money playing dumb. Yeah, she's dumb, dumb like a fox.

Soup
What's the last food you tried that you really didn't care for.
That's tough because I pretty much like everything. I recently tried some tabouleh at Kroger that I didn't care for. I typically like tabouleh though, so it just must be their recipe.

Salad
If you could rename the street that you live on, what would you want it to be called?
I guess I would rename it Island Avenue as an homage to the street my home's on in Connecticut. Oh how I do miss the Shoreline.

Main Course
When was the last time you were genuinely surprised?
When my lights got shut off Wednesday. I was surprised because my bill isn't horribly late and I hadn't received a disconnect notice. I was thrilled when the juice started flowing again five minutes later. Can you tell I've had my own personal power outage parties before?

Dessert
Share a household tip.
Baking soda is a miracle. I use it to take stains out, to freshen garbage cans, to clean pipes (pour down your drains).

Stubby Candles and Soggy Cake

If my blog were a celebrity, right now it would be feeling very Molly Ringwald.

You know, her crazy ass pink phase with all the funky clothes, when she was feeling all dejected and gawky and insecure. The Molly we all have come to know and love.

But Kate, you ask. Why in the good Lord's name would your poor blog be a Molly Ringwald? Why not an Alyssa Milano or Darryl Hannah, or even a poor Kristy Swanson?

Honey, it's because I forgot my blog's own damn birthday.

My blog is apparently a year and two days old.

I guess I was so busy getting ready for my damn party that I didn't even give it a second thought. By the way, I cut into the cheesecake and it's quite fabulous and the crust isn't soggy at all. All that worrying for nothing.

Anyway.

Thanks to all of you who've logged in frequently to keep up on my crazy life.

I've had my lights cut off three times within the past year in times when I was ghetto broke.

-I've had all kinds of dating exploits:
-I've had one really lame boyfriend
-An awful date with a guy who I now run into all the time whenever I go out
-A strange affair with a secretly engaged man trolling bible studies for single chicks
-An even stranger encounter with a young, virile Republican who just couldn't stand being turned down
-An on-again-off-again romance with a Dick who says he's waiting to settle down before we get serious because I'm "The kind of girl a guy should marry."
One period of my life where I was dating two guys at once
And most recently, a guy who is missing out on the best thing around because he wants to be mysterious

I've posted all kinds of crazy pictures of myself, as well as several different, stunning rings I dream about.

I've talked about my diet dramas and my deep passion for food.

I left a terrible, horrible, no-good job for a new city and a new, great television station.

Through it all, thanks for hanging with me.

This next year should be fabulous.

My Girl Likes To Party All The Time...

So I'm having a party tomorrow, and y'all are invited.

If you know where I live (and some of you do), please stop on by the fiesta. We'll have margaritas, sangria, mojotos (notice the theme?) and lots of good food.

And that's why I'm happy today.

To say that I love to cook would be an understatement. I would say I'm in love with cooking. I've talked about it here and a little bit here and here (see number 34). There's something so creative and satisfying about buying all your raw ingredients and toiling with them, washing and chopping and such, and then watching it turn into something miraculous.

At least most of the time it's miraculous.

And that leads me to my Question of The Day: Anyone know the secret to making a great cheesecake crust? My actual cheesecake part is da bomb (we'll be having a lemon kind at the party with blueberry topping), the only trouble is I have trouble with the graham cracker crust. It's always soggy.

Anyone know the secret?

Anyway. My party girl streak has been itching for more than two years to have people over. My last apartment in Lexington was a bit of a shoebox and not accommodating at all for entertaining. I guess having parties are a perfect combination of my two favorite things: Food and socializing.

I've had wild parties:
-There was that one time 15 of us ended up dancing in my bedroom, all wearing my crazy hats, scarves and sunglasses. That party has gone down in infamy as the Accessory Dance Party

I've had fun parties:
-There was that one time we all went back to my place after we met up at a bar downtown. It was the same night I did a shot of tequila with Woody Harrelson and had an at length convo (well, long where celebrities are concerned) with the guy. He almost came to the party, too, until some weird girl in our group latched on to him and would not physically let his arm go until his handler got involved.

I've had scary parties:
-There was that one time an ex-boyfriend (his name was the same of that of a man who was in love with Pocahontas) had a bit too much to drink and didn't bother to use the front door. Oh, no, that was too conventional for this boyfriend. He decided to punch a hole in the window of the locked back door. Never mind that the kitchen was full of people who would unlock the door for him. He proceeded to bleed everywhere and then became quite difficult for the rest of the night. Picture Kate the Great in the most fabulous, red silk top you've ever seen running/driving after Crazy Boyfriend in the rain. Crazy Boyfriend went on to say he'd break up with me if I took him to the hospital.

Yeah, that's one relationship to cherish.

Anyway. I hope tomorrow's party is drama free and full of lots of good food, good drink and great friends.

See you there ;)

Happiness Everyday

This month I am going to try to post about one thing each day that's brought a little happiness to my corner of mankind.

It's a little challenge introduced by my blog friend Michael. We'll see how successful I am.

Today, I would have to say my immediate happiness can be pegged to the fact my newscast is almost over. We're in an extended break thanks to a toss to network, and I am pretty much breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Today was one of those mornings when we were short handed, really short handed. We were without our Executive Producer and at least two other (depending on which day three other) writers.

This morning it was pretty much all hands on deck. Special thanks go out to Double Platinum for stepping up and writing a story for me.

You made me a happy camper.