So I’m in Las Vegas, which should be exciting. And Robyn Furman and I had plans.
A meal!
Drinks!
Gambling!
Wild and crazy stuff!
Then we both realized something: We’re fucking exhausted.
So now it’s 10:54 pm, and we didn’t gamble or drink. But we did eat. Overpriced Mexican food inside MGM Grand! So that’s exciting, because I added an exclamation point. Make that two (MGM Grand!!). But here’s the thing I also realized: I don’t particularly like Las Vegas. Oh, I suppose it’s eye-catching and entertaining and stuff. But it’s also pretty gross. When I think of Vegas, I imagine bright lights, big action, sexy women, cool shows. When I visit Vegas, though, it’s all cigarette stench and wrinkly people from Dubuque blowing all their coin at a slot machine featuring the neon face of Gene Simmons (or, as I saw tonight, the Titanic. Seriously, there was a Titanic-themed slot machine. Which seems pretty tasteless. But, of course, everything here is tasteless. So, hey, you jump I jump).
I digress. I’m tired and ready for bed. This town is fine, but I’d take a visit to Alma, Arkansas any day of the week …
