Well it’s time for Saturday’s Part Deux Debacle of Debauchery.
The magicians were amazing at Magic Underground. This is coming directly to you via a woman culled from the crowd and placed on a stage as a ‘participant’ in several magical tricks.
Said woman was adorned (or rather not) in all her boob and leg revealing glory.
When the magician pointed at me I immediately looked to the area behind my ass. No one there. Grrrrr.
So I got my tush up on this little stage and attempted to keep the girls from popping out and making an unexpected appearance in front of the crowd.
All went well, including a trick where the magician made two bottles of Corona appear from nowhere and handed one to yours truly.
~J was impressed. Not with the trick so much as the free beer.
The only scary part was when I was asked to kneel.
Normally this isn’t scary and in fact I kinda like it but that’s another story for another day.
Anyway, I’m kneeling on the stage in a skirt shorter than my cat’s attention span. After the magician finishes his bit I raise my hand for him to help me up.
I can only guess this is where the Movado was snagged. Swear to Goddess I do not know how he did that.
I’m thinking that my daughter would love Magic Underground. They’re having a New Year’s show. If I win the lottery I’ll take her over there.
So, after the show we all emerge into the world of the ballet audience from the Pioneer Center and thousands of drunken Santas.
I fucking love Reno.
The owners of this IT company then invited all of us across the street to Wild Rivers Grille. It’s next door to Dreamers on the Truckee River.
We make it over there and listen to some great live jazz and are comped for whatever we’d like to drink and/or eat. There was much sipping of $9.00 Cosmos (made with pomegranate juice) and Gray Goose Martinis. Most importantly…
I got my fucking cheeseburger. With bacon. On a home-made ciabatta bun.
‘Cause who’s it all about right?
So, this IT company has some very hip employees. I fell in platonic love with one of them. Her name is Kristina and she is their head programmer. She loved my outfit and threatened to beat me down and steal it.
The impressive part is her personal site www.glamguns.com
Yes! Home of the Hello Kitty AK-47, My Little Carbine, and the EZ-Boom Oven. I’d seen this site on Fark a few months ago and loved it. Little realizing that the genius behind it was another Reno denizen.
We were singing The Vatican Rag together by midnight. Much to the distress of the other company employees and restaurant staff. Oh wait. Neither of us cared.
So by 1:00 am the restaurant was trying to kick our asses out. The suits paid the bill, we all scattered to find cabs home, and another evening was called to an end.
Naturally we were on Virginia Street which is the main drag through Reno. This ensures no cabs. Anywhere.
After a walkabout, seeing drunken Santas, speaking with drunken Mrs. Clauses, laughing at sloppy Reindeer, and throwing rocks at tipsy Elves I found a cab by Harrah’s and got my ass home.
Safe and Unsound.
As it should be.
Your Roving Reporter,
Wig in a Box
By: Various Artists
Release date: 28 October, 2003