A Post About Being Random, and Happy.

The grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.

— Allan K. Chalmers

Remember that time I talked about cleaning my soul and everyone was like, "That's boring, I'm going to read over that..." or, "Hm, that sounds a little sad." Well, you're right. But - sometimes you just need to do something - anything - to break out of a rut.

Well, I get Real Simple daily quotes. And I got this one today. And It got me thinking. If I have something to do, and I love some things, and I hope for things - does that mean I'm happy?

And then I thought of improv, (The art form, not the theater I work at), and I thought of how happy it makes me. It would be my something to do. I go about my daily life, waking up at 7am, working, and hanging out with friends. And improv is my way of breaking the habit. I go to rehearsals, and I gossip and then I usually get yelled at for doing something distracting or pulling us off track, and then we talk more... and then somehow we rehearse a little bit, and do shows later and make each other laugh and come up with crazy characters and talk about them later. When I'm involved in improv - it breaks up my week and it gives me an outlet to not go insane. That's why I miss Seriously Bent, just two days a week and random shows of pure craziness that helped me to stay sane.

And I love a lot of things. And I love a lot of people. And I have a lot of hopes for everything, and people, as well. So - with all that, how can I be down?

Because I'm Irish, and I have a lot of guilt, and a lot of bad genes, and that's why I'm down.

My friend Janine said to me last night, y'know - before I blacked out, that "You are so sure of yourself. You're so confident. I wish you could see how different you are." And, drunk or not, it was really nice to hear. I'm not totally sure of myself - but I do think I'm great. Does that make sense? No. Am I boring? Yes. Well, not generally, but this blog might be boring. At least I'm self-aware.

You know what else I love that makes me happy? Q-Tips and how the packages say "For baby care." My sister and I used to think it was the funniest joke ever... that we were going to leave our children in the care of a Q-tip. No danger can break through the caring power of a Q-tip!

I also love Fall - all 2 weeks of it. And my friends. Sometimes I care so much about my friends that I cry on train rides home. Cause I'm lucky that I have friends that smell good.

Does anyone want two tiny bottles of maple syrup? I have some. I don't know why.

The Many Faces of Mike Anastasia

We Could Have Ruled Rome

One time I quit working at Improv Asylum. This past week I worked 3 out of 4 nights. Why's that? I don't know. I'm a glutton for punishment. I make choices that cause me anger and grief - and I think I like it. But, I'm not going to open that can of worms and how much it relates to nearly every situation in my life right now.

But last night was actually a lot of fun. When I'm there and not in charge of anything (but can easily micro manage) than life is good. Especially with Bryan and Trevor co-managing, me on bar, & Kelly Jenny, Jonas and Quinn ushering. Even Evan X on the box makes life wonderful - when he drinks out of "old glory" - his Iron Inmate mug. It was like a night from old times, when staff got along and everything didn't particularly run smoothly, but we were able to get through it because we are a unified TEAM.

Although, I'm a little bit better than all of them. And more powerful. But that's besides the point.

I was excited about the manager triumvirate there last night, and when I saw both the guys wearing ties, I thought, "Hey, I want a tie, too!" So Trevor pulled out a tie for me to wear, Bryan tied it, and voila - I looked like a skanky slut whore. Oh well, you don't get tips from being ladylike! You get behind that bar, slut yourself up, break glasses in your hand to show your strength, put on one rubber glove, and you MAKE THAT CASH. Which, I did. It was glorious. Vegas here I come! It's just me and you baby! I'm going to go to Vegas alone and just sit in front of the Bellagio fountains with a giant pina colada in my hand and I am going to be HAPPY. Drunk and happy!

This post is pretty pointless. I know this, so you don't have to sit at your computer and go, "Oh, Patty. You're so boring." I know I am. But I'd personally rather blog right now about the positives and how happy I am with my friends sometimes. I'm not going to type away angrily saying, "Hey, I didn't get to sleep in this morning because my down comforter made me so hot and uncomfortable and it was fucking muggy as hell out. I was crabby and lonely all day - besides when I was out with friends... also, I don't want to go to work tomorrow, and I need to take a shower cause I'm sweaty from working out."

Nope, leaving all of that out. All positive. All happy. Clam!

The Good, The Bad and the Whatever

Today is raining.

Good: I bought a BRIGHT yellow umbrella! (ala How I Met Your Mother). HIMYM lovers all over Boston are going to think I'm SO awesome. There'll be an inside joke among us all - a shared look - and maybe a point of the finger. If I'm lucky, a "that's right, girl!" It is perfect sleeping in weather this weekend - and I CAN sleep in!
Bad: I'm wearing a white t-shirt, no jacket, and I went outside and got soaked. I have to sit through work til 5:30 and work tonight at IA... customers and co-workers are going to be all up in my boobs tonight.
The whatever: It's Friday. Everything's OK on Friday.

This past week has been a week.

The good: I had a good Monday. Who has good MONDAYS? Something awesome happened that has never happened to me and it was awesome. Oh, and I put in place a water system that will save my company 75% the cost of water. (Seriously - if your company has Poland Springs.. GET RID OF IT! Walter filtration is the way to go!!) Shows came back!! I bought a new pair of boots that I love....
The bad: I bought a pair of brown boots and I have practically NOTHING that matches with brown. No trip to Vegas was booked. None whatsoever. None offered, none booked... I didn't win anything.
Whatever: It's over, who cares?

I'm working at IA tonight.

The good: ......
The bad: I'm missing Nick's birthday party. I'm soaked and uncomfortable. I'm tired.
The whatever: I'll make some money, right? About... $30. Go me!

This is Ladies Night

So, I geared myself up... I didn't drink, I got as much sleep as possible... just knowing that I was in for a wild ride. A wild ride I hadn't had in a while. I have been acting good. I haven't smoked (besides Vegas), I haven't done any wild, crazy, up-all-night partying (besides Vegas)... and it was all due to a lack of bad influence. I've been, dare I say, responsible. But... Julia was coming into town.

I got ready on Saturday, planning my outfit around what we would be doing. I had a skirt and leather boots on - but then I thought, "Fuck! We're probably going to end up having an improptu (yet totally planned) dance party." Our plans were: Improv Asylum 8 o'clock show. Then drinking off on our own while the boys worked. Then debauchery.

It was Julia, Kelly, Melissa (Julia's friend), and I. We went to the 8pm show - LOVED IT - and drank about a bucket each. (4 beers, pronounced "bears") And then we went to Goody's, the old staple. We had some dranks, talked to some awkward guys who we very lame and boring, chatted a little bit about our favorite vampire clan - The Cullen's. And then Julia... my bad influence! The reason behind every bad, naughty, etc. thing I have done! The girl who has ruined my lungs and liver in order to ease my boring life and a broken heart... decided she was tired. TIRED! Exhausted, even. And she wanted food. It was 12 o'clock on a Saturday night, and Julia was ready to give up and go home. I mean, that's usually me. I've stayed out until... 8 or 9am with Jules... out of pure force (although fun).

So, our hip and debaucherous ladies' night turned into a few drinks with the girls and eating at South Street diner. Which, I have to say, is still one of the funnest nights I've had in a long time. I love them so much! Me, Jules and Kel were (are) three women in a gang of boys (and a gay). We're used to so much... I don't know. Guy stuff. Drinking, hanging, smoking, writing sketches and talking in bits. It was good to single ourselves out for a night and have a ladies night! And I miss Julia so much, so it was good to be around her and see her cute little smile, and her sneaking in a bag of doritos into the show.

Also, I realized lately - that a majority of my close friends are male. Or at least the people I hang out with on a regular basis. Besides like my best friends from home, who are all ladies. I'm usually in constant contact, or hanging out with - men. The Jeremy's, the Steve's, the Evan's, the Nick's (although, when with him it's like a ladies' night), the Trevor's... and yes, there are multiples of each!

I wish Julia was not living in Wolfboro! I need my favorite shemale!

Holy Doritos!

Kelly: Can you believe they raised the price of Doritos from 99 cents to $1.29!
Julia: WHAAAAT?
Kelly: I mean, it's a bigger bag, but still.
Me: Yeah, but I bet they just say there's more chips but there actually isn't.
Kelly: No, there are more chips. I'm a Doritos connoisseur.

A couple of months ago, Michael Anastasia was in the Improper Bostonian's most eligible bachelor and bachelorettes issue. Nominating him for that, and the day he found out I did it, is still one of the funniest days of my life. And the best phone calls I've ever recieved.

Picture me, sitting in the basement of the Improv Asylum. The phone rings, Liza picks it up. I hear, "Good afternoon, Improv Asylum... yeah, she's here... (laughs) Okay... Patty, it's for you."

Me: Hello?
Mike on speakerphone from the corp. office: So I just got a call from the Improper Bostonian...

and then I screamed in excitement. And he will forever give me angry looks for doing it - although he secretly loved it.

Anyways - in it, there was a blurb about him which stated that he was a whiskey connoisseur. Apparently it was a joke, but it was still kind of funny. He just loves him some Jamie, that's all.

So, I imagined Kelly in the next issue... wearing leggings, an oversized shirt and no pants, and knit hat and her new black rimmed glasses... talking about being from Peabody and her single life as a Doritos enthusiast.

I'm nominating her, who's with me?

In Case You Haven't Kept Up With My Statuses...

I watched the Emmy's tonight for the first time ever. I've watched bits and pieces, but I never sat down and watched them in full. I only realized they were on because I put on E! and saw red carpet coverage and I was like, "Oh yeah."

I thought A) I have nothing to do but read about Edward and Bella's wedding which is also important B) I kinda love television and C) I'M SORT OF IN LOVE WITH TINA FEY.

So I watched... and I laughed at many things... like the Ricky Gervais and Steve Carrell bit that made me feel so incredibly awkward and I thought it was real. And many other things that I don't care to recall because the only thing I care about is Tina Fey!

My god, I love her. From when she first walked out in her sexy black dress and presented with Amy Poehler... and when she won the Best Writer award for "Cooter" and when she said "NERDS!" to start off her speech... and then when she won for Best Leading Actress and when Alec Baldwin won and then when "30 Rock" won for best show...

I really felt like I was watching a football game and my team won. I'm just happy. I just love her and everything she stands for. Except babies, I don't want a baby. I am SUCH a crazy power lesbian right now.

Bye Bye Robot Nails

A couple of weeks ago (like, 4) I got acrylic nails put on. I broke a nail and it was so disgusting and then I broke another one and I was like holy God, I can't have these monstrosities out in public - so I covered them up with fake nails. I was also going to Vegas and thought, "Hey! I can get a fun, sparkly Vegas color." While I was getting them put on I thought, "Oh my God, I have such nice nails and this is going to ruin them!" and other things like, "I wonder if that girl over there has had work done..."

While I was getting them done, while they were drying, when I tried to text message, when I tried to open the little compartment on my phone where I plug the charger in, when I typed on my keyboard, when I woke up the next day and they HURT - I regretted my decision.

But, I got used to them, kind of. And then they started growing longer and longer and longer - and they're supposed to filled every 2 weeks. Well, I approached four and decided I wasn't going to fill them, and I wasn't going pay to get them taken off. So I bought me some acetone and decided to do it myself.

I DID IT! The acetone stained my hands and made my hands feel disgusting - and it took about an hour total - but my fingers are free!

Here's what I did to celebrate freedom:

1. Texted, texted and texted again.
2. Scratched my head (I prefer it better without fake nails)
3. Typed this blog with ease
4. Cracked my knuckles (has nothing to do with the nails... but I did do it)
5. That's all.

It feels wonderful. My nails look disgusting... but I can scratch another person's human body without them being creeped out by my robot nails! What? Scratching people isn't normal??? Also - after this little experiment... I've decided that being from Everett does NOT mean you have to have fake nails, fake tans, and wear socks with Adidas sandals.

"That's My Favorite Homeless Man"

I didn't bring my ipod today. I left it in the car the other night, after playing "Let's Go To The Mall" by Robin Sparkles on repeat. So, I had a book for the bus and train - but other than that, my ears were naked. I was more aware of the world around me.

So when I heard "That is my FAVORITE homeless man!" I laughed out loud... like a crazy person walking down the street talking to herself. The most ridiculous part is that the homeless people in Boston are so distinct. You'll find them in the same spots all the time. So it's not rare to have a conversation with a friend that starts with, "So you know that homeless guy who hangs out at Park St..." or, the classic, "DO YOU HAVE ANY SPAAARE CHANNNGE?" guy. It's like a sitcom "Homeless" - and we all discuss the funny things each funny character (homeless person) does each week.

I didn't give the funny homeless man any money... maybe I should have. Part of being happy is doing nice things for people so you feel better about yourself - I do nice things purely for selfish reasons. But, today I didn't. He's always so polite, "Ladies, good morning, Gentlemen, good morning. Have a nice day, lady. You look nice today! Have a nice day!" But, I smiled, said thank you and walked by him.

Yesterday I gave a dollar to a man in front of Hennessey's who said "Would you like a copy of the Spare Change newspaper? There's something about me in there." He seemed so proud, even if he was lying for money, so I just gave him a dollar.

I can't imagine life without the homeless people. They decorate the streets of Boston. And we'd all have way less funny stories to tell. And Julia wouldn't have ANY topics to write a play about.

Adventures of Patty and Roberto

Today at work I was super bored and all I wanted to do was go outside in the park and read Eclipse. So did Roberto, who is also reading Eclipse. We decided to take our "lunch break" and go on an adventure to Border's so I could buy the 4th book of the Twilight saga.

So we went, and I got it and we looked at books. Y'know, adventures. I looked at a picture book on how to give great blow jobs - it showed all sorts of positions. And I said we should have a work reading club and have that be the first book. I looked up and a lady in the aisle smiled at me, and laughed. She was a bit older, so I felt pretty stupid. But oh well.

Then we stood in a line. And stood... and stood... and stood...

We walked through the Irish Famine memorial - and I said, "This is the story of my people. The potato famine." And then Roberto said, "Ew someone threw up in it!" And I looked over and yes, there was a pile of puke in a portion of one of the statues. I responded with, "Well that's also the story of my people. We get crazy drunk and throw up everywhere."

Then we thought, "Let's get Starbucks!" It was busy - but it's always busy. It ended up being slightly ridiculous. The guy working the register spilled hot coffee on the girl taking orders and she snapped, and he gave her bitchy eyes and said, "It didn't hurt you last time." As if he's ALWAYS accidently getting hot coffee on her.

Then they kept messing up drink orders and Roberto's coffee never came out - and 20 minutes later, we were back on Washington St.

We discussed going on a duck tour and showing back up at the office with "I <3 BOSTON" t-shirts on, quacking duck mouth things, and waving Boston-themed flags. Then, as we were mere steps from our office, we started crossing the street (there was a red light!) and a truck almost hit us. Then the driver laughed. And then a fast car almost hit us, and that driver also kinda laughed.

I thought a good end to this story would have been that we DID get hit mere steps from our office, and then as our co-workers left for the day 2 hours later, they'd see our bodies in the crosswalk, and go, "Hm, didn't even notice they left...." as they stepped through the crime scene and over our bodies.

But no, just.. back to work.

The Story of Me

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Today at work I got an IM that said, "Hey, are you ok? You seem sad lately."

This is wrong for a letter of reasons.

A) I didn't realize I was.
B) Am I? I guess I am.
C) That's embarrassing.
D) I'm tired of it.

I haven't been able to sleep lately. I'd say it started right after Vegas, it feels like around that time, but I didn't sleep all that well in Vegas either. Despite the 16 naps a day. And I could have slept in for hours - and still woke up at 7am. But I take sleeping pills all the time. There is so much running through my brain throughout the day, and when I put my head on my pillow(s)... the thoughts run faster and faster. You'd think all the fast running would exhaust me even more and make me pass out - but no. Just keeps me up tossing and turning for hours.

Then when I eventually fall asleep and wake up the next day, I feel awful - because I'm in a sleeping pill coma. That sets the tone for the rest of the day, where I sit at work for hours filled with mundane tasks and tons of MTV and VH1 reality shows.

Am I just bored with life? I was in a blah slump after Vegas because it was the most exciting thing that had happened in my life for a while. It was so spontaneous. And then I had to go back to my 8:30-5:30 lifestyle. I feel like I'm way too young to be in this rut, but I still am. I'm in a rut. That's what's wrong. My rut.

Well fuck the rut. I'm going to get a good sleep tonight, mind be damned. And when I wake up tomorrow I'm going to not be pouty Patty. I'm going to be perky Patty.

Let's all take a moment to think "Where in the world is Evan Kaufman and what is that crazy jew doing?" Probs writing poetry... OR MAYBE BLOGGING? Spotted.

xoxo,
Barrett All

Last Night

Last night I worked in the box office of Improv Asylum.

I haven't worked the box office in about two years. Well, at night at least. There were some things I missed, like the lack of stress. I could sit in the box office and not worry about getting the show started on time... I could watch YouTube videos during intermission and not get in trouble. Of course I didn't... because after being a manager, I have this thing where I can't just sit there. I have to get up and help... and give 5 (get punched in the face by Richie)... help the bar line move faster (and get angry at a man who waved money in my face and screamed his order like he was 10 ft. away).. but that's my own OCD. I have to take charge, I can't just sit back. Maybe that's a good thing. Or maybe not.

But last night was good. I liked working the box because I know what I'm doing, and I can fix problems easily after working the box office and being the Box Office Manager for a brief period of time. What I don't miss about the box though is the lack of social interaction. I have to stay in my box. I can't run around and talk to Trevor, or go sit in the green room with the actors.. or bother Evan in the tech booth, or squirt Steve with a water gun... or make Chris say funny words over the microphone. I'm stuck. (Although, I mean in general, last night I did most of those things.)

I also want to mention how it's fun working the box office when drunk bachelorette parties get out of control. My favorite quote of the night....

Drunk friend of bachelorette: Where are the stairs DOWN?
Trevor: There are no stairs down, only up.
DFOB: I DON'T WANNA GO UP... I wanna go downstairs to get outside.......
Trevor: That's upstairs! You came down here from outside!
DFOB: OKAY.. I know you think I'm a mess, but I'm fine... (somehow makes it up the stairs as her friend/girl who tried to woo Trevor with her breasts to get a shot of alcohol we don't have ran after her)

And then during the Midnight Show, Kelly had to save a woman from the bathroom who was saying, "SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM THIS POSITION"... but she just couldn't get the bathroom door unlocked. So Kel took her out to the front room to get her water and the girl started saying, "I just wanna go back to camp and put my PJ'S on..." or "I'm falling apart... I'm falling apart..." all while her expression looked like a deer in headlights.

Sometimes I miss it. But only when I'm watching it from the box, not when I'm the one in charge of dealing with it. That's what Trevor's for! That and being handsome in green ties.

In general, I slept until 12:30pm today, went to a drive-thru Starbucks and now I'm going to do yoga. I wish that was my life everyday.

Bands.

I've never been in a band. (Unless you count the public school system band where I played the clarinet. You don't? OK then.) I've never yearned to be in a band, either. But I've always thought the idea of being in a band was pretty cool. In high school - there were some kids (I'm sure a ton of kids) who started a band and I thought it was the most cool thing. I went to one show, and I didn't enjoy the music as much as I enjoyed the feeling of knowing somebody on stage.

It's the people behind the scenes that amaze me. Just like how all I thought about was the people in the band - rather than the actual band... it's people's thoughts. When I went to Vegas (did I mention I went to Vegas?) all I could think about was getting a giant frozen pina colada. BUT THEN - I thought about all the people who were there to work. The people who were so amazed with Vegas that they wanted to do something in the Vegas-industry. They weren't quite ready for New York or LA - and Vegas is a great learning ground. The jobs are there, ready to be filled - and there are a ton of them. And hey, if it doesn't work out becoming a Vegas showgirl - or a Chippendales dancer - then the Flamingo is always looking for annoying greeters to make you feel uncomfortable... and there are hardly enough Elvis impersonators strolling the strip. Or porn card hander-outers.

But, so, here's my main case study for this blog: The Janitors. The Janitors were a band made of 4 guys who played rock songs (with a keyboard, two guitars, and a fake drum set that barely made any noise). They were headlining V Bar at the Venetian in the late-afternoon/early-evening slot. Were they really called The Janitors? No. I don't know what their real names were... but that is what we named them because the men looked like they could have been janitors. They were slightly too old to be young and too young to be old. One was Asian, or maybe Filipino. Two were African-American (I'm so PC) and only one of them looked like they were meant to be in a band - well more like a poetry slam. While the other looked like he was literally cleaning the tables and jumped on the stage. The other was Mexican. They had great voices, actually, and they weren't that bad.

The bar had about 8 people total in it. There was a table of four middle aged men and woman. Steve and I (25 and 22) and then another couple who were older and looked miserable. Their audience was... lacking. And they kept smiling and looking at us - because they didn't have anything else to work with. Except when two older ladies got up and danced... embarrassingly.

Anyway - I am just SO curious about their thoughts. Did they form pre-Vegas? Did they all come to Vegas to make it?? Are they actually janitors?? Where the hell did they meet? What do they want from Vegas? And finally, what was their actual band's name?


Call me, j-tors.

We Will Never Forget, or How The Terrorists Ruined The Backstreet Boys

I was just alerted that it was September 11th. I was going to blog about my sudden realizition that I'm materialistic, but then I thought it would be selfish to not talk about September 11th... and how I'm sort of upset we don't have the day off.

How can I talk about September 11th and still find a way to talk about me?

Oh! I'll talk about that day... all of 7 years ago, when I was just 15 years young. I still had so much to learn about the world. I hadn't experienced real heart break, I hadn't dyed my hair red yet, I didn't have a job, I was even still too afraid to wear jeans or anything remotely form-fitting. And in fact, I went to the Backstreet Boys concert the night before. I was still love drunk from that.

Yet there I was, sitting in Biology listening to Ms. Gildea lecture about DNA when the terrorists killed my BSB high... I wonder where Ms. Gildea went... Hello? Ms. Gildea? I want you to blame me for everything and yell "PATTY!" accusingly again.

Anyways - I went to my US History class right after and the teacher pulled out the oldest wood-paneled TV ever and had the news on. Through the squiggly lines I saw the second plane crash into tower. It was scary. And my teacher yelled "FUCKIN BIN LADEN".

Then we were let out early from school. And my friend (at the time) was crying and came to my house to watch the news because she initialy though it was the WTC Boston. You know, because that would make sense. But her mom worked near there - so she was worried. I guess that's OK then. But still dumb.

That was a creepy day though. The lack of planes in the air... nothing playing on TV but 9/11 footage, even MTV only had a flag on the network for a few days. And it was around the time I first encountered my terrible fear of mice when I saw one in my room - so I was still too terrified to sleep in my own room. No - I'm kidding. Sort of, it did add to my terror.

So that was my September 11th, 2001. Tomorrow I will talk about my September 12th, 2001.

Post-trip stress

I just had my first Whole Foods experience. It was the first time I went there and got prepared food for lunch.

I've been there two other times. Once alone, and was immediately overwhelmed and frightened by everything, so I left. And once with Michael Anastasia - where we got him a bag of Fiji apples and random other things and "tawked wike dis" the whole time.

This time I went with co-worker Kyle. And there were 94109481039 people there, because it was 12:30 on a weekday in a financial area. Everybody was hungry for Whole Foods goodness. And I was super excited at all the salad options. And it didn't seem sketchy at all! When you go places like Stop-n-Shop, no one touches the salad bar.

Why am I blogging about Whole Foods?

I've been dealing with a lot of post-trip trauma. My transition back to reality hasn't been an easy one. I mean, I was only away for like 3 days - but still. Music's lost its ryhthym... food's lost its taste... color has lot its color... nothing seems right. Maybe it's because I jumped right into work from graduating. I didn't really have time off, or a break. So the small chance I had at vacation happiness came and went too quickly.

Usually it lasts like a day - but it's still hard. I'm still Boston-blah.

How did Britney Spears win so many VMA's?

NO WE'RE NOT MARRIED

Remember that time I went to Vegas? I do!

My god, it was so awesome. Even just landing in Vegas on the plane - mountains, desert, rocks… not the randomly scattered houses, tall buildings, and questionably colored bodies of water I’m used to seeing. We got there around 1:30pm, and after doing things like getting to the hotel, getting checked in, being asked if we were married 1001 times… we just took a nap. Or well, tried to take a nap. It was just so hot out.

Anyways… it was fun. We walked up and down the strip and nearly died of heat. I got what I wanted out of the trip – a giant frozen pina colada in an Eiffel Tower. Although, I’m pretty sure it nearly killed me. A drink (and by “a drink” I mean like EIGHT drinks, that thing was huge) doesn’t necessarily mix with 2pm Vegas sun and heat… and add walking and the New York, New York roller coaster… it means disaster. But I survived. And I’m not going to say where we had lunch right after that… because it’s embarrassing. But it was out of pure desperation and not wanting to walk into the sun again… but it was definitely a wild time.

Some of the highlights of the trip included eating at Mon Ami Gabi… the French steakhouse at the Paris casino. It was right across from the Bellagio, and we sat on the patio, so we got a great view of this:

Also, while walking from the MGM Grand – a guy came up to us and whispered “I’ve got coke and weed… try before you buy!” and my favorite part was not just the guy offering it to us… but us ignoring him, walking past him and then Steve said “YES!” loudly… still within earshot of the guy. Very funny.

I loved the Venetian. I loved Caesar’s Palace and drinking at the Cleopatra bar with the pirate ship with a Boyz II Men type band (except they played instruments…) singing songs by Usher and other R&B artists.

Oh and we stayed at the Flamingo, where there’s a habitat with Flamingos and other bird-like birds. And this… I forget the name someone told us, but we kept calling it a chicken… kept staring and honking at us. And then it moved lazily and stayed under Steve for a long time.

I loved everything about Vegas, even the creepy people passing out porn cards on the street. And watching Scrubs and Cash Cab in the hotel room… basically, it’s a great place to escape to for a few days and take a nap… or 15.

That's right!

I woke up at 6:11am. Then at 6:33am. Then at 6:55am. I turned off my alarm, because the sound of the alarm makes me nervous. I laid in bed for what I thought was another 5 minutes - but alas, it was 10. 7:05. Out of bed. Into my sweatshirt.

Was Jeremy (Wilheim) there? Nope. Everything in my apartment was left exactly the way it was when I went to bed. I was relieved. Playing Pussycat Dolls on your ipod dock really loud is much more acceptable when your apartment/house is empty that early.

20 minutes later I was ready to leave the house. My hair had a nice curl to it, and the outfit I picked out last minute looked so put together for a "I guess I'll wear that" kind of day. The air smelled good, and my ankle only hurt a little bit in the inappropriate, unsupportive footwear I chose. I saw the bus drive by, I missed it, but that gave me more time to read my book.

New Moon. I promised myself I wouldn't fall for another series of books. They only break my heart in the end - when they're over. But damnit, Roberto created a monster. Edward Cullen is so hard to resist, with his venemous fangs, dark eyes, and stonelike, cold body. I feel like Julia, getting turned on by a "17 year old" vampire doing nothing sexual but lightly kissing his 17 year old girlfriend. I hope that doesn't make me a pedophile. He was really born in 1901, so, it really just makes me creepy.

Work. It's the last day, I have so much to do. My mind is elsewhere though... it's back in my bedroom packing for Las Vegas. People in front of me talk about condoms and ad placements - are the condoms shown enough in the episode of MTV show? Then they go through samples of latex. Seems so inappropriate, but the conversation is so professional. I could probably never be in their position without smiling. Oh look, I am smiling. They don't know at what. I'm 10.

"I Love Money" is over. The Bodyguard is on. I've never seen this movie. I've only played the song "I Have Nothing" over and over in my car. I sang the song loudly, with Janine, as we listened to our Bedtime Magic [106.7] mix.

I still have 5 hours left. But tomorrow, at this time, I will be on a plane to Las Vegas. That's if I don't sprain my neck, leg, entire body and come down with the Spanish Influenza (like Edward Cullen...)

Maybe I'll come back, maybe I won't.

Legen - wait for it - Dary.

Last night I had a dream about Neil Patrick Harris.

Not that kind of dream. Well, not really. I did make out with him. And then I walked in on him in the shower. But there were a ton of other people in the dream.

I still woke up strangely attracted to him. But was it Neil Patrick Harris, or Barney from How I Met Your Mother? I'm not sure.

Regardless, he's still hot. So I've been YouTube'in Barney for like the past 15 minutes. Because I apparently haven't watched enough "How I Met Your Mother" this weekend. Enjoy him. Love him. Dream of him.