So uncool

What is it about Vegas that makes it impossible to sleep?

Yesterday was pretty wierd. I finally rousted Joey out around 8:30 and we got some breakfast and then hit the slots. Between the two of us we won $300, which would come in handy later on in the evening when we would donate a portion of it back to the slot machine gods. So I guess we're ahead but you know that will change today. And tomorrow. And Wednesday.

Close to what normal people would call lunchtime, we paraded over to the Forum Shops at Caesar's. This was the infamous scene of the Bling Incident last year, when Paula in a little snit decided to throw me out of the store since "you're not going to buy anything" and I guess she didn't want me finding out that she was buying something using a credit card that apparently Malcolm knew nothing about. This pissed Joey off so badly that he took me back to the store later and bought me a gorgeous bracelet, which then made Paula cry because apparently it makes her unhappy when other people get things. Especially things that they don't have to hide from their husbands until the credit card bill comes. A sense of entitlement really sucks, doesn't it? So I was prepared this year for another tantrum and for her to treat me like dirt. Because that's how she is.

I bought two really cute tops at Anthropologie, Joey bought himself some shorts and a shirt at the very cool (and great smelling) Tommy Bahama store, and we grabbed a little lunch. And then, my friends, the meltdown happened. We went in to see my little friend Susan at David Yurman, a purchase was made, and then Paula went berzerk.

I love predictable people.

One thing I've noticed about Vegas is the plethora of women who have had boob jobs. I am definitely in the vast minority here. Although some of them really should consider downsizing a bit, because their backs must be killing them.

Last night we went to dinner at The Palm which is in the Forum Shops. Excellent restaurant, by the way. And then, the uncoolness started.

What you find in Vegas is that if you look like you're gonna spend some money, you can score free passes. Last night it was to Pure, where Paris Hilton had her last birthday party and is one of the hot spots in town. Or at least until we got there.

The other thing is that money will buy pretty much anything in this town that you want. And you can plunk down a few hundred bucks on a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and end up with a VIP table for the night. This is what Malcolm decided to do, you know, because he has apparently a lot of money to spend on stupid shit like this. Yeah, go ahead and make fun of us, we deserve it.

Joey and I sat there on the white leather couches with our own personal big-breasted waitress to mix drinks and squeeze limes and rub our feet for about an hour. We scanned the crowd as the dance music pulsed on. I felt like I was about 80 years old. Joey was wondering why he didn't know any of the music. I swear, there is nothing worse in his opinion than dance music.

So we left. I bet Malcolm was pissed. But you know, that's just totally not my scene, and even moreso not Joey's scene at all.

We came on back to the Wynn, donated some of the aforementioned winnings back to the slot machine gods, and called it a night. I took my Geritol and put my Depends on before bed.

Today I am meeting Paula at the spa around 1 to use the steamroom and then we have massages and facials scheduled. I can hardly wait to spend time with my new bestest friend forever(notice the heavy sarcasm).

And now, I present, Joey Top:

Thanks, GMan, I've had nightmares ever since you emailed this to me. Thanks a lot.