we were somewhere around barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. i remember saying something like "i feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." and suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car...
i started to freak out thinking maybe Boy roofied me or something, you know, to loosen my legs a little (joke's on him! everyone knows i'm a big slut!), but then i realized it was just the three bottles of flinstones gummie vitamins messing with me. you know how it is.
and now i return to you unharmed (mostly). i suppose that means vegas was a total bust.
there's really no efficient way to tell you about this weekend, so i feel the best option is vegas inspired- i'm getting it down to the numbers.
7.5: minutes it took us to slowly creep down the stairs and out to the car just in case pickles went all it puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again on William.
175: number of dollars i allowed myself for the trip.
<4: number of hours it took to get from west la to vegas, baby!
90: average speed i was driving in order to accomplish this feat.
12: approximate number of seconds before i laid in with the, "so which chapel is our elvis waiting at?" jokes
3: approximate number of miles our hotel was from the strip
492: number of miles our room was from the hotel entrance. (it also had two "full" size beds, which works out really nicely for a couple whose combined height is about twelve feet.)
1: number of nights we stayed in that room, because Boy is a MAN and he took control!
1000000000000: times better the new room was, with its ginormous bed and close proximity to the casino
2941561042398716: exact number of times i tried to ravage him due to his peep-pleasing MANness
2: square inches of un-chafed skin left after all that ravaging (send ointments and creams please!)
11: number of hours slept, per night, on average.
0: number of hours daylight seen, per day, on average.
21069587610394651029341508746298721597: calories consumed. this is the really important information people, so pay attention.
8: strips of bacon
5: sausages (two link, three patty)
4: donuts (three crumb, one cinnamon roll)
3: plates spaghetti, with two rolls each
4: helpings home fries
3: chicken lettuce wraps (this is as close as i get to asian cuisine. Boy doesn't like it. *WEEP*)
1: mushroom burger with fries (at "america," the restaurant in new york, new york that has a giant 3-d map on its ceiling.)
1.33: giant 1/2 pound hotdogs ($1.50 each! circus circus rules!)
and of those, the thing i would most likely eat again? the hotdogs. those were some big, cheap, and delicious weiners.
2: number of times seriously considered flashing the aerial contortionist at circus circus.
.25: number of times the faeries visited me this weekend (apparently they were held up at the agricultural checkpoint at the california state line.)
11.85: dollars won playing nickels at "slots of fun"
46.25: dollars won playing quarter "wheel of fortune" at the frontier
18: number of dollars "up" that leaves me. i'm a winner! *shimmy shakes* i'm confident that this money will not change me, except for the fact that now i will own you all.
21: casinos visited this trip
9: cigarettes smoked (and that was one too many.)
10: disco ball mirrored 15 foot candycane decorations. but wait, there's more. vegas does christmas right, what with the trees in every available doorway and the lights and the illegal mexicans handing out flyers in their fuzzy little santa hats. if that doesn't say christmas, then it probably says, "putas a su puerta en treinta minutos o menos."
8347987346: men in cowboy hats named "cody," "wade," or "clay"
8347987346: pounds of sparkles and makeup bedazzling the women that came with cody, wade and clay
0: number of times i was married by elvis, which is shocking in its own right because seriously, who wouldn't want to marry me, but even more shocking with all those rodeo guys around. (because mmmmm cowboys, and also mmmm cowboys.)
and also there might have been some drinking, and um, i may or may not have fallen down the stairs outside of paris. and that fall may or may not have been a nose dive into the pavement that resulted in bloodied black and blue knees.
so that's all. you heard me. keep it moving, nothing to see here.
i'm still tired (and i may or may not be hurting in the knee-al region).