How I have only sort-of missed you so. Today is the first day since Monday that I felt like ponying up the $9.99 per 24 hours for Internet access here at the hotel, as I have been too busy and too drunk to do it AND there was some crazy worm virus running amok at the trade show and hotel early in the week. (Take THAT, capitalism and investment conventions! Some 14-year-old locked in his hotel room while his parents went out and lost his college fund decided to hack Champion Rental Services and destroy all rented computers with a seriously annoying virus.) So I was scared to connect lest the clean and virgin Grand Duchess New Hotness become infected and maybe destroy my perfect FreeCell record.
Also? Did. Not. Care.
And I still really don't. But since I paid for the Internet to look up restaurant reviews, I might as well do something useful like post. So here. Post!
I actually tried to write a post earlier in the week...a guest entry written by the Drunk Guy At Amy's Table during my Important Business Dinner on Tuesday. But it sucked because I was cranky and bitter over being put at his table in the first place, instead of the Table Where The Important People Sat Where Amy Belonged Because She Is Important. But instead? I was at the business dinner equivalent of the kiddie table. So grrr.
But whatever. Jason arrived on Thursday so we could have fun and fun has been had. Lots of drinking and eating and gambling. Rinse, repeat. I won $167 at a slot machine in the Bellagio. We buffeted. We saw Cirque du Soleil (meh) and George Wallace (ha ha HAAAAAAAAA). We drank (at. the. pool.) very early in the morning through very late at night.
We just got back from the Star Trek Extravaganza of Geekitude where we rode the little rides and saw the little characters and drank a little drink that was bigger than my head. It was called the Borg something something and was green and smoked and also? Yooge. $25 worth of booze. I also saw a real-life Borg guy who scared me. A lot. Pictures to come.
Actually, a lot of things on this trip have scared me a lot. The Important Business Dinner bill which cost as much as a very nice car. Also the cost of my Cirque du Soleil tickets. The Cirque du Soleil clowns. The mere existence of that Circus Circus house of horrors down the Strip. These copper-painted people at the Paris hotel that pretend to be statues and then REACH OUT and TOUCH YOU while you walk INNOCENTLY BY and scare the fucking living bejeezus crap out of you. And the women in Vegas who dress without regards to body shape OR the fact that metallic-colored spandex is never a good idea.
Anyway. I'm bored and getting sober so I'm going to post this and be off. Also, shut up, Geraldo. Why are you still on TV? Oh, Jason's fallen asleep or passed out on the remote. Must remedy this. More to come, including Scary Borg Pictures, the guy who lifted up my skirt in the casino, stupid things I have said and done while drunk and more love for George Wallace, the motherfucking Godfather of Comedy and the King of Yo' Momma Jokes. Haaaaa.