they shoot blogs, don't they?

Not when you neglect them. Only when they have rabies. And so far, no foaming at the mouth in these parts.

So, I am going to Vegas in a few short hours. Wish me luck. Actually, wish me money. You could say I'd be "lucky" not to get hit by the monorail. So, I want you to wish money for me. Go.

I had planned on trying to stay up late in order to make it easy to sleep on the plane tomorrow. I can plane sleep, but let's not kid, it's not like a California King resting on a cloud in a breezy 68-degree room. It's more like, some dude's elbow is in your side and and maybe has halitosis. He does, not his elbow. I can catch some Zs, but then some yutz is asking me if I'd like a soft drink. Oh, and I'm not accepting anything. We're flying not Southwest so I know all the flight crew moonlight as grifters and pick-pockets. (How does spellcheck not know what a grifter is? Has no one seen Paper Moon? WTF?)

At any rate, I thought I'd check in so you'd know I didn't suddenly become famous. Although, I am going to Vegas. I might end up with a variety show or some such. These things happen, people.

mega rich

Mega rich in experience, my friends.

Contrary to popular belief, it was almost as if the casinos WANT/RIG IT so that you lose. I mean, WTF Vegas?

Anyway, I've come to the horrible realization that I might be like 98th percentile of annoyingest people in the world. We were at the Main Street Station having a great run of cards in blackjack and it kind of hit me. Maybe it was the drunkenness, the foul odor or the fact that I was singing excerpts of The Four Tops's Bernadette to our dealer, namely Bernadette. (This was re-mixed in the the "Bust" song we had devised to sing whenever the dealer busted.) I'm convinced if I met me I would probably hate me - at least for a while.

These were fun times my friends. And not only all that, but we also got comped a meal at the little brewpub in the casino. Booyah.

So, I'm back and ready to annoy the whole world again, rather than just Vegas.