So, I’m up and off bright and early tomorrow for Las Vegas. I was really only half-serious when I mentioned it in passing last week. I do like that if I suggest something moderately realistic out of the blue, James will usually agree to it. I could probably take advantage of this loophole more than I do. A few New Year’s Eves ago I told him to “pick up a bottle of champagne, nothing expensive” and he thought I said something expensive, like I’d ever demand such a thing, but he did it which I thought was strange. My expectations must suck because I usually assume that if I ask for something I’ll be told no. Maybe I should start being really ballsy and demanding.
So, “hey, we should go to Las Vegas next weekend” garnered an easy, “okay.” I don’t know shit about Vegas (I have been to Nevada, maybe twice, possibly three times but I only faintly recall any of it because I was under four. Both my grandma, great-grandma [pronounced gramma–I recently got made fun of for saying grampa. That’s just the way it is, grandfather looks correct on paper but it doesn’t sound right coming out of my mouth] and aunt who was barely a teen, resided in a Dayton mobile home park in the early ‘70s. My undeniably spotty Nevada memories only include: people driving in golf carts to get the mail, a Siamese cat named Telstar, thinking that Truckee River was the most hysterical geographic name I’d ever heard [clearly, I wasn’t aware of Boring, Oregon yet], seeing hummingbirds furiously flapping their wings into a blur, driving L.C. [Little Cat] the black and white family feline we had for nearly another decade back home to Burlingame, CA, and getting freaked out by my great-grandma Weaver’s husband’s fake shiny leg you could see between his pant hem and sock top. I swear I saw it propped up against a bedroom wall but I might be false wishful remembering).
Las Vegas is just a random something to do and kind of a consolation because every year I sulk about doing nothing on Christmas, so in a way I’m trying to trick myself into having fun this weekend so by the 25th I’ll have mellowed out on my holiday annoyance. I don’t really gamble, I just want to drink and drive around (maybe not in that order) and eat buffet food and In N Out Burgers. If I come back proclaiming that Beatles/Cirque du Soleil coupling as genius, you’re welcome to beat me with a poorly made prosthetic leg.