So, the cat is out of the bag. I went to Vegas for a week. I had. A. BLAST.
People have asked me to tell them what I did while I was in Vegas.
My response is always "You don't want to know" which is always met with "Oh, BUT NOW I MUST HEAR EVERYTHING."
So, keeping in mind that you REALLY don't want to know because honestly, you will be disgusted with how completely NERDY I am, here is the rundown:
Works of Fiction Read: 2
Technical Manuals Read: 2
Crossword Puzzles Completed (IN PEN, PEOPLE, IN PEN): 4
Reports on Search Engine Optimization Read, Highlighted, and Notes Written in the Margins: 1
Celebrities Spotted: 0
Shoes purchased: 4
Elvis Sightings: 2
Super Nasty Ankle-length Dreadlock Sightings: 1
Length of Time it Takes the Bellhop to Show Up After You Check In And All You Want To Do Is Get Out Of Your Dirty Airplane Clothes And Get In Bed But You Can't Because While Said Bellhop May Have Seen A Lot Of Things While Working As A Bellhop In Vegas, There Are Still Some Things That Really Don't Need To Be Seen: 1.5 hours (SUPER AWESOME!)
Gambling: None, unless you count ordering room service from a man who does not speak the English language.
Here are a few more of the highlights:
This is what happens when I cannot decide what to pack and just pack IT ALL. (And yet, look at how clever I am with the train o' luggage?)
Cliché Vegas photograph.
The view from my hotel room—HOW MUCH DOES THIS RULE?!
Another view from my hotel room.
My view at night. The nights in Vegas were SO AWESOME. (Can I possibly use the word "awesome" any more? Does someone need a Thesaurus for Christmas?)
I stayed in the Tropicana, an older hotel on the strip. My room had mirrored ceilings and walls.
Let me repeat: MIRRORED. CEILINGS. AND. WALLS.
The mirror above my bed served to remind me that I have an unused gym membership. The mirror on the wall served to remind me that one of the best things about arms is that if you keep them at your sides while you're laying on your back, your boobs won't slide into your armpits.
I was on the 18th floor.
This is a photo of the "I DeClair" from The Claim Jumper. It was as big as my head (which, given my Hassell genes, is saying something). I couldn't even eat
two bites a tenth a quarter half of it.
Lastly, you know you had a great vacation when you come home with a smiley face on your arm. (Not a tattoo. That would ruin my all awesome Nerd cred.)