Alice Shrugged

  I love Las Vegas, and this time was no different.  It was a double bachelor party– one of whom I knew well.  There aren’t any pictures. 
  Highlights of the trip included the party itself, the show by Austin-based Midgetmen the following day, and a few choice poker hands (one of which was a play I may never live down).  The party was as expected.  The show was excellent: I had gone to one of their shows a few years ago and came away unimpressed, but this one was just terrific.  Or maybe it was the rather large quantity of cheap beer I’d had.  Probably a little of both.  And as for poker, well, I don’t like to talk about it.  I also had the misfortune of being locked out of my room (unintentionally, or so claimed) and sleeping in a chair in the hotel lobby for an hour Friday morning.  Which is a canonical Las Vegas situation.
  I also walked a lot this time, mostly because I picked a very incovenient (albeit nice) hotel off the strip.  It was about a 45 minute walk from the Bellagio after a late night playing a game I shouldn’t've played.  I stared for a while at the Luxor, the hotel where we stayed six years ago (nearly to the day?).  And I replayed my life since that moment, and it’s been crazy.  Sometimes I get really frustrated with work and life and all this and all that.  And I have to take a break.  This was such a break. 

sOn our second anniversary, Kerri and I were talking about high school.  I reminisced about an Ayn Rand presentation I gave in tenth grade, saying that it was likely about Atlas Shrugged .  Having had perhaps a glass of wine or two, Kerri said that she had tried to read that epic, but she skipped the "t" sound.  I have dreamed of a clever domain name for years, but I never could come up with something so sublimely perfect as Alice Shrugged.  It says more than I could convey in a thousand words, even adjusting for my general verbosity.  Brilliant.  It is high time I resumed my self-indulgence, pretending that the rest of the world cares about what I eat for breakfast.  And lunch.  (For the record, today, it was a coffee and bagel from Tully’s and turkey pesto sandwich from Specialty’s, respectively.)

And if you haven’t purchased it yet [today], please buy a copy of Tom’s band’s CD: Houston Calls: A Collection of Short Stories.  Filled with catchy hooks and sing-a-long lyrics, it’s pure pop fun.