As a recent transplant to Nevada (and that’s Nev-AAH-da, rhyming with the A in “cat”; Nevadans are very touchy about this), there are a few cultural differences that have struck me as a native to the East coast. People are … nice? And polite, usually? It’s been a tough adjustment. One thing that particularly stuck out is how many personalized license plates there are. I saw my first couple, chuckled or rolled my eyes, and continued on. Then I saw more. And more. And more. Nevadans apparently love to show their ~*~pErSoNaLiTy~*~ via their VANITYPL8s. And it’s not just the numbers themselves. Continue reading
Nevada
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Arch you glad it’s the weekend?
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For a car nut and a travel fiend like me, driving Nevada’s Highway 50 was definitely near the top of my proverbial Bucket List. The scenery was spectacular, the road glass smooth, and the food surprisingly tasty. Plus, the world’s oldest trees! Continue reading
Nevada has spoken! The mutant uranium-miners, opium whores, neon salesman and moisture farmers of The Radioactive State chose Willard “10k” Romney over space-beast Newt Gingrich, bedraggled has-been Dick Santorum, and undead specter Ron Paul.
Fresh from a smack-down by Romney’s magnificent wallet in the Florida GOP primary, the candidates made their way to Nevada, the seedy, alternate-universe Utah that was the site of the next ridiculous clown rodeo caucus. Here, on the uranium-poisoned sands once trod by Mo Green and Fredo Corleone, the candidates hoped to, well, not get smacked by Romney’s wallet again. This was really a vain hope, since Romney’s wallet, like the buffet at Stinky Pete’s Bordello and Casino, is bottomless. Romney ended up clubbing them all over the head and left them bleeding in the sand like extras in “Spartacus.” Continue reading