The Wheel of Fortune in the Sky Keeps on Turnin'

I don't know where I'll be tomaw-aw-row! Actually, I do. In J-town. I'm back working here again for a while so updates should (key word: should, I promise nothing) be more frequent. The Ireland updates will be coming when I finish uploading my pictures, but my weekend was so entertaining that I feel the need to tell you about that first.

Thursday: My first Thursday at Samy's. While I was overseas, apparently the tide for the Thursday night hotspot shifted over to what I like to call "Sam-Y's," as 50-cent drafts are always appealing. Heroes is putting up a fight with their new special of $1 bottles, $2 mixed drinks, so God only knows who will win the battle of "Thirsty Thursday." Samy's seems like it's pulling ahead, as the line was out the door and we waited for 20 minutes outside to get in. Inside the place was packed, and we settled in for a night of early 90's style excitement which included Silly String (don't ask me why) and hot hits like "Dangerous on the Dance Floor," "Me So Horny" (to which a certain infamous swimmer was gyrating drunkly), and "Diamond Girl" (okay, maybe that one wasn't a hot hit). Dancing specials included dancing on the bar (yes, we partook) and for some odd reason, slow dances. I felt like I was back at a junior high sock hop when the ballads came on. The DJ for some reason must have been hibernating between 1993 and 2002, as he had no music in between those years.
Friday night was a Naperville night, nothing much of note. Saturday was quite the adventure: Melanie and I tried out for Wheel of Fortune. I haven't watched the show in about ten years, and I'm confused by all the newfangled categories they have, but I figured it would be a fun time. It was supposed to start around 11, so we arrived a bit before to see a line that stretched almost all the way around the Rialto. As you can imagine, there was a veritable plethora of Whiskey Tango, a feast for the eyes if you will. Several mullets, of course, including my favorite mullet, a teased, sprayed, overprocessed blond do in the manner of American Gladiators' Malibu (sadly, he was only in Season One). Mr. Mullet, who we later found out went by the (stage?) name of "Shayne Sheldon," sported a tee reading "SPAM" with the letters in American flag print. There were also, confusingly, a couple of nuns in line. Apparently the vow of poverty doesn't not include game shows. After we finally parked we saw some familiar faces in the form of a friend of Melanie's mother in line and proceeded to slip into line (cut) behind them. After a while we received applications to fill out, and the questions included "List your hobbies or unique talents." Alas, I didn't feel like "going out to bars and making fun of people" would be appropriate, so I did mention my website and my avid hobbies of travel and photography. Later on I forgot that I could have included "reading" and "shopping," but perhaps my exotic choices were better. We eventually entered the Rialto and were ushered into the theatre for the first contestant rounds. Basically what happened was that fake Pat Sajak called five people up at the time to play a round of the game. The people that got called up (about thirty total) would get some kind of prize and get a better chance at being called back for the next round of auditions. Some very entertaining people got called up, including the aforementioned Shayne Sheldon, a woman who was a "webmaster" whose hobbies included "NASCAR," and another woman who enjoyed Star Trek conventions. Imagine my surprise when I was called up on stage to play with such luminaries. The prize for my round was a lovely red Wheel of Fortune fanny pack (I like to call it an "ass bag") which I have yet to use. The category for my round was "phrase," and though the contestant before me gave the clever answer of "Let's Get to Bed," I won the round with "Hats Off to You." The funny thing about the day was that I was wearing a shirt that said "Emily" on it, so when we walked by the line for the next round, people were yelling out, "Congratulations Emily," and "There's Emily! She can't try out again!" I was of course confused that people knew my name, until I remembered my shirt. Apparently my intelligence was limited to matters of the "Would you like to buy a vowel?" kind that day. I have to head out now, but later on I'll add in Ireland and perhaps Saturday night's adventures as well.