Nov 7 2017

Me and Me Blunnies

These Blundstone boots were a gift

from my now ex-husbands, given back when we’d just started dating, when you still had to order fr23331069_10156020420464994_191415728502923073_oom Australia (WAY before Amazon). 22 years later, he is still a good friend, and the Blunnies and I are still going strong. Together, these boots and I have tended bar at Harvey Nichols 5th Floor in London, strolled the Champs Elysees, climbed Uluru, biked Angel Island, stomped the streets of San Francisco and NYC, hiked the desert outside Las Vegas; just to name a few. These boots have been to more places, seen more of life, than most Americans. There have been ups and downs in the past 22 years, for sure. But we certainly got around, my Blunnies and me. And there is definitely more to come.

Nov 1 2012

Welcome to My Adultland. It’s wonderful to see you here.

I'm just a girl.

I’m just a girl.

Shall we start with the question “What is Adultland?”

“A place with rules.” So it was defined by someone who felt the need to point out some fundamental truths to me. “We live in adultland here, we have rules”. I won’t go into boring detail about the backstory that lead to this enlightening yet sobering (literally) declaration — unless you write in and beg for it. But it made me think. And I replied “I, too,  live in ‘Adultland’. But in my Adultland, the rules can be bent and broken. In fact, that’s half the fun! So long as you’re not deliberately hurting anyone.”

So, if you think adultland is filled with girls gone wild and the fantasy of SoCo Coke-drenched sticky experiences with stranger in bathroom stalls of Vegas casinos, this isn’t for you. See, My Adultland is what I imagined adulthood to be. Adulthood was filled with Glamour. Adulthood was filled with Mystery. Adulthood was sexy —  just beneath the surface. What was unsaid and unseen was far more… interesting. Of course what the hell did I know? I was a kid growing up in Vegas (back when Vegas had Glamour and Mystery and Dean Martin) whose imagination was sent soaring by all the subliminal messages in Brut and Windsong commercials of the seventies. But you know what? I still cling to my visions of what adultland can be. I’m bringing sexy back. My way. Mommies, you are welcome — just get a sitter for the little ones first. Smoking is permitted — please step outside and use the ashtray.

Sorry, I’ve got nothing to share on recent child-rearing studies, automobile safety, or Starbucks vs. Peets. But I know a thing or 2 about vintage boots; great food, wine & cocktails; blowing up your life mid-way through and starting over; and the power of Funk. Oh no, you cannot fight the funk… the funk will find you.

And yes, what happens in My Adultland stays in My Adultland. Now excuse me while I slip into something more comfortable…


Diane Karagienakos

The Queen of My Adultland

ps — please don’t ever write in to me about typos, mis-spelling, etc. I’m a stickler for that sort of thing. That said, most of my postings here will be done very late at night. With a glass of good red nearby. Meaning “I DON’T CARE ABOUT TYPOS RIGHT NOW.”

Thank You.

Oct 11 2009

So maybe I don’t hate everything about Vegas

Saturday afternoon in the park with a friend

Saturday afternoon in the park with a friend

May 4 2009








Chapter 1: Childhood & Secrets.

I sent my nephew a text message. I simply wanted to tell him that the only reason I was driving to Las Vegas was to see him…

“Can you keep a secret?”


“Need 2 know i can trust u”

“I wont keep secrets from my parents”

What the…? I was bereft. Few things can render me speechless for 30 minutes. His declaration was one of them. I wanted to tell him that that’s why secrets were invented  — to keep information from your parents. But of course, I couldn’t. I thought long and hard about how to approach this best; without stepping on parental toes, yet still encouraging him to question authority. C’mon, he’s 12 and long overdue. I came up with this:

“Ask ur dad if its ok 2 share a secret with me”

“Ya as long as its not bad”

What does my brother actually think, that I’m going to tell him where I hide the bodies? Or where to score the purest coke?

“1. Would never ask u  a bad secret, 2. Ur the only reason Im coming to vegas.”

“O ok cool”

But I got there and we shared some secrets. Good secrets. And it was cool.


Just us gals.

Speaking of secrets & kids: On my last night in Vegas, I went to visit my friend (who I know from SF) and his wife. Their daughter is 8, and reminds me so much of myself at her age. My dad, like hers, was a bar man, and she is more comfortable in a bar than in a toy store. Game recognize game, as they say. Anyhow, she and I were sitting with our feet in the pool while the grownups were still at the dinner table. After spelling out for me the pros & cons of being an only child, she — completely unprovoked — told me about a really scary dream she’d recently had. And it gave me so much comfort! Because I’d had a near-identical dream at her age that has haunted me to this day. And when she told me her dream, I just felt all that fear and anxiety melt away as I told her (realizing it for the first time myself): “Sweetie, we all have that exact same dream. It’s only a dream.” And then she gave me a friendship ring with a coral-colored heart, to match my toenails. Because it is the perfect shade for summer.

Chapter 2: The upside of big brothers? Some really awesome toys!

Yes, that is a Confederate Flag. Don't look at me.

My brother. Yes, that is a Confederate Flag. Don't look at me.

This is what desert living is all about! One of my brothers (clearly not the father of my nephew) lives @ 25 miles west of Las Vegas, heading toward Pahrump. It’s a great drive. And most conveniently, he lives — literally — right next to a very popular biker bar. Fortunately for me (and him), they adore him there. So it’s nice to have a place to go, a stark alternative to the Vegas we all know and love and/or loathe.

But it’s all about the drive. The desert. The mountains. THE QUADS! Quadding: Lord is that fun. I got nothing to say, you just have to try it. It’s like motorcycling for dummies.

Chapter 3: Operation Nephew Corruption


My Little Rockstar.

I believe I’m making some progress here. Tiny steps. Even if not, I’m having a ball trying. Think he is too. Got him to put down the ping pong paddle, flip that table, and shoot some pool. Because let’s face it, billiards has the potential to open doors in life. Later that night, I convinced him that real rock stars don’t sing sitting on the sofa — you need to get up and feel the music (look at pic at left: eyes closed!). And he did! Of course we were just playing the American Idol video game, but it’s a start. (note to self: never, under any circumstance, attempt to sing The Spice Girls “Wannabe” ever again).

My little hustler.

My little hustler.

The next day, after tracking me down (I’d locked myself in the upstairs room to get away from the sound of All Sports All The Time on the 65″ screen to get some work done), he asked what I was working on. I told him about the blockbuster franchise movie treatment I’m writing & hope to get produced (a girl can dream, n’est-ce pas?). Trust me, it’s in the very early stages and a mess right now. He asked to read it… and he said he liked it! So he promised to be my date on the red carpet at the Oscars when the time comes, which I cannot wait for now. The kid’s on the fast track to handsome, and it’s gonna be so much fun to see all the little starlets throw themselves at his feet.

Chapter 4: Talking To Ghosts.

where I get my good looks

where I get my good looks

Not “ghost” in the spooky haunting or “I see dead people” senses. Just people, alive and dead, who affected me profoundly and are always with me, or at lease very close. That’s a ghost to me and I have a few, many in Vegas. My mom outranks all of them combined.

This is just a sign to me, but I'm sure he's a ghost to someone somewhere.

This is just a sign to me, but I'm sure he's a ghost to someone, somewhere.