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Friday, February 2, 2007


Me with my new best friends, Cynthia and Kevin.


My first ever guest commendation - yay!

Monday, February 5, 2007

Proof that I work in a freaking madhouse.  The girl pictured below, Brook, used to work at New York-New York.  She only worked there for about a month, and she seemed like a nice girl but...I have to question the mental stability of someone who would hook up with a child molester, especially when she has a 3-year-old daughter.  Brook, please don't do this to your daughter.  Pedophiles will come and go but you only have one chance to give your daughter a life she deserves.

    
The January 20, 2007 edition of National Enquirer.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007
I was picking up dirty glass by a slot machine and I noticed a guy at one of the machines who kept staring at my tits.  Whatever, I'm used to it.  Here's the funny part.  His girlfriend walked up behind him and he didn't see her.  She said, "What are you looking at?"  He kind of jumped, then suddenly looked straight at the reels on his slot machine, at which he had been mindlessly pushing the "spin" button.  As I walked away I heard him say, "I was just looking at her nametag."  And she said, "So, what's her name?"  I wasn't wearing my nametag.  Poor guy.

Friday, February 9, 2007

"Hey Girl!"

Those two words will forever be synonymous with Brenda Schmalfeldt, my friend and co-worker, who was brutally murdered on Saturday, January 13, 2007.

On that day, according to her killer, a man (a transgender) named Raven Navajo, Brenda was at a bar and too drunk to drive, so he offered to give her a ride home.  On the way they decided to stop by his house and watch a movie.  At his house he went to the bathroom while Brenda waited in his bedroom.  When he came out he caught her stealing money from his purse.  He confronted her, she got mad and tried to walk out the front door.  He knocked her down and beat her until she stopped moving.  He dragged her into his garage and left her there.  Then he put on a red negligee and watched a movie for a few hours.  After the movie, he went to check on Brenda, and she still wasn't moving.  He put her body in the trunk of his car and left her there for a few days because he wasn't sure what to do.  In the meantime he lived his normal transgender life, including driving to the same bar where he had met Brenda and hanging out while she lay dead in his car.  Finally he decided to dump her body in a dumpster.  The police searched the landfill where the contents were taken with cadaver dogs for almost a week but still have not found her body.  I'm not sure why he confessed to killing her, but he has pled not guilty.  http://www.kvbc.com/Global/story.asp?s=6092367

The events surrounding Brenda's death are horrific and extremely bizarre.  I don't believe for a second that she tried to steal from her killer.  And it's not because I'm her friend and I think she's above and beyond reproach.  It's because it doesn't make sense.  In fact, I think he tried to steal from her.  He thought she'd be too drunk to realize what was going on and, knowing she's a cocktail waitress (she went to the bar straight from work and was still wearing her uniform), he assumed she would have cash on her.  Maybe she took out a wad of bills when she paid for her drinks.  He probably suggested they go to his house and hang out for awhile, planning to rob her when she was distracted.  Maybe she was the one who went to the bathroom and came out and caught him.  And I find it hard to believe that he put her body in that dumpster because they can't find her body.  I know a landfill is large and overwhelming and just full of shit, but cadaver dogs are trained to sift through all the rotten food and other disgusting crap people throw away.  How can they not find her body if it's really there?  Well, every time I've taken those tests in I, Detective I'm always wrong, so who knows.  I still don't believe what he said.

Knowing Brenda, it does not surprise me that she would strike up a conversation with a total stranger and treat them as an immediate friend.  She was gregarious, fun-loving, loud, crazy, and just plain fun.  She had been working graveyard for the last few years so I didn't see her that often anymore, usually in the morning when I was starting my shift and she was leaving.  But she was always cheery, in a good mood, "Hey girl!  How's it going?"  If there was a party, she was there.  Spontaneous and ready to go.  Funny how you remember certain things that mean nothing, like she had about a million hair pieces.  And it meant so much to her when someone paid her a compliment.  She was a really sweet and sensitive person too.  Her dogs - they were her children.  She had three of them, Tinker (a Bichon Frise), Baby (a Pomeranian), and Sassy (a Yorkshire Terrier).  Tinker has since passed away, some say from kennel cough, some say from a broken heart.  http://network.bestfriends.org/nevada/news/11653.html  Her best friend was her mother, who was the reason that she bought a house, so they could live together.  She wanted to make sure that her mother had a place to live and would always be taken care of.  That's the kind of person she was.


I love this picture of Brenda.


Shaneeka, Brenda, and Linda.  Linda was our most favoritest manager ever.  She is now an instructor at the Culinary Institute.


Kari, Bernadette, Brenda, Michelle, and Melissa.  Damn, Bren...that's some boobage!


Kari, Brenda, and Denise.  These poor Bo-Peeps have all lost their sheep.


Brenda, Bruce, Bernadette, Kari, and Denise.


Bernadette, Lidia, Brenda, and Susanna.


Brenda and Bernadette, forever in our hearts.


The Bootylicious Bunch - Kristina, Robin, Kari, and Brenda.


Sweet 16 - John Travolta, eat your heart out!


The banquet room where Brenda's service was held.


Robert at the buffet.


Hey girl, here's to you.

Updated 3-17-07 - New York-New York had a St. Patrick's Day celebration with a bagpipe parade through the casino.  At the end there was a commemoration for Brenda and Bernadette.  Here is the video I made.

Saturday, February 10, 2007
I had probably one of the most self-absorbed and ignorant customers I've met in a long time.  She ordered a lemonade and asked if it came in a bottle.  I said no.  She said, "Does it come in a can?"  I said no.  She asked, "Does it come in small, medium, and large?  Because I want a large one."  I kind of laughed and said, "We don't have sizes, but I'll bring it in a tall glass."  She said, "That would be great."  When I came back I set down a napkin on the table and put the drink down on top of it.  She took one look at the lemonade and said, "Oh, no no no no no no...." Then she gingerly picked up the glass with her thumb and index finger as if she would contract mad cow disease, handed it back to me and said, "I can't have ice."  I said, "OK, drama queen, I can see why that would be such a big deal.  And it's a good thing you used only two fingers to touch the glass because otherwise you would have touched the ice, which, in case you haven't noticed, is INSIDE the glass.  Boy, that was a close one."  So I went back to the bar and told the bartender, "Lemonade.  No ice.  For the queen of England."  This time when I set the drink down she said, "Oh.  Is this made with purified water?"  I said, "What?"  She said, "I can only have purified water."  I said, "Well, I'm going to hazard a guess and say, no."  She leaned back in her chair, put her hands up and back and turned her face slightly away from the drink.  I thought she was going to scream in fear.  I swear to god she looked like one of those cartoon elephants who had seen a mouse.  If she was wearing a tutu she would have lifted it up.  She said, "I don't want it.  Take it away."  Lady, my friend fell off a cliff and died, another one was beaten to death.  Children are dying of AIDS.  And you're in a fucking casino, breathing carbon dioxide, touching E. coli-infested chips, sitting in a chair where someone has probably pissed on, and you can only drink purified water?  And you seriously think that lemonade from a bottle or can is made from purified water?  Get the fuck off my planet.

Sunday, February 11, 2007


This is Ben from Irvine, CA.  He walked by me, then came back and said, "Are you that infamous cocktail waitress?"  I said, "Infamous?  Hmmm...I like the sound of that."  What else could I say?  The guy's like 8 feet tall.  He's actually a really cool guy.  He owns a skateboard clothing store called etnies and said he would bring Joshua and me some stuff next time he visits, how sweet is that?

Monday, February 12, 2007


New York-New York, the most exciting city in Las Vegas.

Friday, February 16, 2007
Note to Mayor Oscar Goodman: We love you, we agree that graffiti artists should have their thumbs cut off on live TV, we think you should have your mob connections whack attention whores who claim to have eavesdropped on phone calls with terrorists, we even approve of educating fourth graders that being stranded on a desert island with a bottle of gin is preferable to a Vegas stripper any day.  And we would consider it a great personal favor if you made sure that the NBA All Star game never, ever returned to Vegas.  Signed: Every Single Person Who Lives in Las Vegas.

Saturday, February 17, 2007
This guy said, "I'd like a Pina Colada.  What kind of gin do you all use?"  I said, "Well, a Pina Colada is a rum drink, but we can use gin if you'd like."  He thought about it, then said, "OK, then make it with Belvedere gin."  I had to laugh a little, then said, "Well, Belvedere is a vodka, and we don't have that."  He said, "Well can you give me a Cha-Cha then?"  I laughed again, and he laughed too and said, "I'm not doing very well, am I?"  I said, "No, not really.  I think you mean a Chi-Chi, and that is a vodka drink.  We don't have Belvedere but I can give you Ketel."  He said, "Then that's what I'll have."

Sunday, February 18, 2007
There was a group of four old ladies.  Three of them ordered water and one ordered a coffee with cream.  When I brought the drinks they were very pleasant and each lady gave me a quarter.  I wasn't too annoyed; it was par for the course.  And with the All Star crowd in town, I was happy just to not get yelled at or shot.  So when I came back around, just to be nice, I asked them if they wanted another drink.  The old lady who had the coffee said, "I wanted cream in my coffee.  I almost burned my tongue off because you didn't put cream in it."  I said, "There's cream in there."  The other old ladies chimed in and said, "No, can't you see it's black?"  They pointed at the glass, which has a protective black band around it.  It's one of the things that constantly amaze me, that people see the black glass and assume the coffee is always black.  Not just old, senile, blind people.  But presumably intelligent, able-visioned people who seem in complete control of their faculties.  When you are handed a drink, usually you are looking down into the contents of the glass.  So regardless of what color the glass is, you are looking right at the liquid contents.  So if there is cream in the coffee, the coffee will be...cream colored.  Now, what was more amusing about this situation was that the old lady couldn't taste the cream, because she claimed to have almost burned off her tongue.  I said, "There is cream in there, the black is just a protective band so you won't burn your hands."  The old lady picked up the glass and held it right under my face as if I were blind, and said, "Young lady, there is no cream in there."  I sighed.  I took the glass and slowly poured some coffee out onto the napkin, which was on her slot machine.  "See?"  I said, as I held the glass in the tilted position so they could see the creamy coffee at an angle.  All four of them craned their necks, staring at the coffee, mesmerized as if I just did a David Copperfield.  Then they all sat back slowly.  The one old lady said, "Oh.  I'm sorry.  We were all saying how you must be color-blind, but I guess you were right."

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