WEATHER WATCHING WORLDWIDE!

Being from England, where complaining about the weather is considered a National pastime, I have of course wasted my fair share of energy participating in this pointless distraction.
     When I was in London and it was cold and raining, I would spend hours (that I should have been working) surfing through travel websites and drooling over pictures of warm, exotic locations that I should have been in.
     Then I would run to the store and waste money I barely had on playing the lottery, trying to win money to go on holiday with.
     I never won.
     Interestingly enough however, when the summertime rolled around, it was like winter never happened… so one day, I decided to save myself the weekly distress of weather watching by moving to Las Vegas – the desert.
     And like many naïve folks who had watched Aladdin as a kid, I thought that it stayed hot in the desert all year round.
     I mean, at what point in the film did Aladdin or Jasmine ever wear a winter coat?
     I first arrived in Las Vegas in the middle of the sweltering July heat at 3am (don’t ask); I got cooked so fast, my poor sweat glands have not fully recovered.
     It also came as a rude surprise later that year in November, when it started getting cold and by January, even the usually bikini clad bunch were fully covered up.
     I don’t know what it is about the weather that keeps me engaged, but I guess the point of this rant is that it should never rain or be cold in Las Vegas.
     Just saying!

 

Ella Roberts,

www.ellasbooks.blogspot.com

 

WAL*MART TO FOREIGNERS

There's a wonderful place called WAL*MART.
     A huge (square footage of) land where all your dreams (including the bed... well, almost) come true.
     Where interesting fairy-like people dressed in blue or green vests, t-shirts or aprons attend to your every need (“hi, welcome to WAL*MART”).
     A place that houses so much indulgence under one roof, folks have tried to get locked inside... until they realized that it was open 24 hours.
     Now, to Americans this airy-fairy version of WAL*MART is probably a load of nonsense, especially to those that like to spend their Monday mornings holding up protest signs outside and scowling disapprovingly as one walks or drives in.
     I'm from England you see and we don't have much in the way of indulgence warehouses and foreigners like me can always be spotted in grocery stores by that unmistakable “gang of lost souls” look we all wear after the first step inside.
     Please be patient though when you see one at your local store either:

          * Wondering around in a daze, heading in no specific direction.

          * Stopped smack dab in the middle of the freezer aisle, mesmerized by the huge tubs of ice cream.
          * Carefully examining the oversize packets of everything from potato chips to milk, trying to figure out if there really is that much in there or just exaggerated packaging.

You see, I used to be a member of this ridiculous drool brigade... alright I still am but I have gotten smart about it by tagging along to someone who is immune to the trap that only WAL*MART virgins fall into.

     Going to WAL*MART for foreigners is like trying to explain what the Blue Man Group is actually about:

     You can't, you simply have to experience it!

Ella Roberts,

www.ellaswit.blogspot.com