No 21st floor this time.

Nope. Because we’re staying on the 23rd floor. Great – better’n last time. But the views really are wonderful, the food is delicious, and we had fun spending money last night.

We arrived in Detroit around 3 p.m., and partied until around 10. Fun! Here’s the pictorial:

What's this cool little building remind you of?

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Our hotel -- a visual anachronism to the surrounding area

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The Thriller actually talked about going to the game because the Tigers were playing the White Sox. Um, no.

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View of the casino from our room. All accessible by an elevated, covered walkway.

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So today, we eat (yay, it’s free) and see some other sights besides the ones in the casino. We may leave this afternoon for home, or tomorrow morning. It’s good to not have to decide.

Happy Monday!

Fink (and Thriller, hangin’) out.

How I Spent My Saturday II

And it was a whoooole lot better than How I Spent My Saturday, Part I.

Yesterday, I abandoned all work, except for some minor cleaning that I put off till the last minute. Instead, I did what I wanted to do. It was a strange and wonderful experience. Could this be the purpose of summer weekends after all? Here is most of what I did with my Saturday, listed in random order.

Heard about the best toy everPlayed with a cute little bug

!

3. Updated some stuff on my Facebook profile, which had sat unattended and lonely for a long time.

4. The Thriller -- he's way too good to me

!

5. Met a friend at an area watering hole. Good times.

And now, it’s 6:48 and I have some things to take care of before Mavis & Ray come over at 11 to get the lowdown on Rousseau and taking care of the house for a couple of days. And at noon, it’s off to the Motor City for a little gambling, considerable eating, and a whole lotta relaxing.

Happy Sunday to all my fiends,

RF

Various & Sundry XVII

Down AND outFor the first time since July 4th weekend, the Cleveland Indians won two games in a row. Let’s bow our heads for a moment of thanks. Last place in the division, worst record in the American League — you’d think something would have to give.

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Suffice it to say that there are just a few problems over at E. 9th and Carnegie. I hate it when people are really, really right.

Ah well. At least we have the Browns season to look forward to. That, and there’s always next year. Heh.

So in brighter news, the Thriller and I are taking off tomorrow for a much-needed getaway for some fun at Greektown in Detroit. He got two free nights in their brand-new hotel, and a bunch of free food. Free food is good. Anyway, we leave tomorrow and will be back sometime Monday night or Tuesday. Should be fun.

I like Greektown because of its location: dropped right in the center of, well, Greektown. There is a wonderful ethnic/historic feel to the street outside the casino building. In the days when we used to park in a nearby garage and walk to the casino, the area was filled with the sound of Greek music (piped out into the street by huge speakers mounted somewhere above your head), and smells of what I am certain was all manner of exotic Greek cuisine from restaurants with names like Pegasus, Laikon, Plakas and Parthenon.

And there is no shortage of Olympic opulence in the hotel. The lobby is a knockout all by itself.

So here’s to a happy weekend for all of yous. I’ma go make coffee.

FO

Photo: casinocritic.blogspot.com

When in the course of human events…

…it becomes necessary for people to dissolve the emotional bonds that make them suffer, go mad, or just be sad, then it also becomes necessary to watch this 3-minute video. For RtB regulars, it’s a repeat from 15 months ago. For everyone else, I hope it’s a great way to start your Finkday.

If you think there is no beauty in this world, or there is no Creator or force of good in the universe, or if your heart is broken, or if you harbor anger against a friend or family member — I got yer fix right here. Sorry, instrumentalists…you are fab and we love you (and I am one of you), but nothing translates the heart of the matter like the human singing voice, da?

Especially, the voice. “Nessun dorma” from Turandot by Puccini. For 3 minutes of your life, there will be beauty. Start off your weekend right. Er, correctly.

Link to video

Fink out (to the school house to do some singing with Tom Hanks today).

Welp, that was stinky.

Nope, I don’t mean Mary Poppins. Something came up yesterday afternoon and I ended up giving away my ticket, so no review from me. We will have to wait until Wendell or Stoney tells us about the show. Was it too long? Was Mary really uninteresting? How much did they change the melodies of the songs? I covet a reaction.

Instead, I shall pass judgment on something else entirely.

Last night, the Thriller and I were coming home from the pharmacy and we passed a Chinese restaurant. Its vile reek followed us for a quarter of a mile. I was completely offended.

To me, Chinese food smells like old, rancid cooking oil, used 50 times over, then used some more (which is probably closer to the truth than any of us would like to admit, and not just for Chinese cuisine). It’s cloying, but in a bitter way. Bottom line: it just smells filthy to me. And that red, slimy substance they schlep all over everything is just downright wretched.

When our daughters were going to college and living with us, they would sometimes bring the offensive victuals into the house. And while they took a huge running start from the sidewalk up to their bedrooms, no effort, no matter how valiant, could kill the despicable stench of the Red Muck Squeezed From the Leaking Bowels of a Dead Yak. I ended up slapping a moratorium on the foul stuff; they weren’t allowed to eat Chinese in the house anymore. (And I am certain the Chinese appreciated it.)

Oh well. That’s just me.

Other food smells that make me gag, scowl, or just mad:

  • Cabbage (cooked)
  • Brussels sprouts (in any form)
  • Fish
  • Broccoli (cooked)
  • Every flavor of salad dressing except Caesar
  • Olive oil

Through the years, there have been people who, when I shared with them my disdain for many foods, would stand with arms akimbo and scold, You don’t know what you’re missing, and How can you not like _____?

They’re not with us anymore.

So what food smells make you want to yark? Or does *everyone* in the known universe except me love every kind of food imaginable?

I used to hate pizza. Wish I still did.

Fink out.