Wednesday, March 30, 2005


Two days until I leave for New York. I’m not thrilled about the reason why I am going or that most of my time will be taken up with parties but I am looking forward to leaving, especially during the Final Four weekend, and let’s face it; I’d be crazy to complain about having to go to New York. I should get a little bit of time on Saturday and all day Monday to do non-bridal things. I think I’m going to spend my time on Saturday in Chinatown. I’ve walked through it briefly on one occasion but never had the chance to spend any length of time there. It’s supposed to rain all weekend but I will brave the weather decked out in my REI raingear. If I have to be cheery and perky, two adjectives anyone who knows me at all would probably never use to describe me, all weekend I deserve some me time. It’s difficult for me to feign excitement over that kind of stuff. What can I say? I’m not one for faking it.

Thank You

Thank you all for your nice emails regarding my Terry Schiavo post. I’m disheartened that the struggle continues. It’s nice to know there are people who at least agree with me about something. Maybe you’ll also agree with me that it can be unfortunate that anyone can have a blogger account in about two minutes. I think this is an egregious misuse of the system. What do you think?

Monday, March 28, 2005

Not So Bad For A Monday

Here’s another one of my many moods rearing its head. I’m actually kind of cheery and it was definitely brought on both by the insane amount of carbohydrates I ingested yesterday at two different Easter related functions and by today’s Spring-Like weather. I got to eat some of those Robin Eggs I like so much yesterday. Why do they always taste better than regular Whoppers? It has to be the brightly colored speckled shell. Did you know it’s customary to give someone a cake shaped like a lamb on Easter? I did not know this. The one I tried had sugary white icing. You have to love the Goyim parties because they have lots of alcohol and sugary treats.

My local readers can agree that Monday’s weather is divine. It’s about time too. Summer shoes and the swimming pool aren’t far off now. I hate it when people dress like its August though on the first warm day in February. I’m not quite that eager. Stay tuned, it’s supposed to be even warmer tomorrow.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Happy Whatevers

For my Catholic friends please have a nice Good Friday and Easter. To my fellow Jews, Happy Purim. Do not save me any Hamentaschen because I hate them. If there's too much candy in your Easter basket though I really like those malted milk ball eggs.

Ghost Town

I’ve just read the RFT’s cover story on Carl Officer and E. St. Louis. I’m kind of surprised they gave it so much time and room. E. St. Louis is our very near neighbor to the east that we like to ignore and pretend doesn’t exist. Some of us see her as we pass by over the highway on our way to somewhere else and some of us choose to not even look. That article was very truthful but it didn’t even scratch the surface of the city’s problems. Did you know that in 1960 East St. Louis was named an All American City? People used to purposely go across the river from St. Louis to shop, dine, and go to the theatre in East St. Louis. It’s kind of amazing to think about it. Obviously I wasn’t there then and I can’t make comparisons but I can tell you even the decline that I’ve seen in the course of my lifetime is staggering.

When I was a small child my grandfather used to take off of work every Thursday and spend the day with me. The city was our playground and each week was an adventure. Often we would stop at the Arch and ride the tram up. We’d look out of the windows on the Illinois side and he’d always say “can you see the store? Your dad is waving. Can’t you see him?” I never did see it. Then we’d get in the car and drive across the Poplar Street Bridge to East St. Louis. We’d stop at the Woolworh’s where I got to pick out whatever candy I wanted and occasionally a Barbie doll. Today that building is a shell being held up by the boards on the smashed windows. Then we’d go down the street to the store where my family has made their living for nearly 60 years. My Grandfather went off to do whatever he did there and I’d float around between the different areas and employees. One man, named in the RFT story, always sang to me while he was working. In the back room there were mattresses stacked up and it was a coveted privilege to be able to jump up and down on them. This was exciting stuff for a child. Sometimes I used to go to the Post Office on Missouri Ave. with my mother. It was always a bustle of activity. If you go there today there are bars on the windows. There was a prostitute who lived in one of the apartments upstairs from the store. She was a flamboyant old woman and she used to come downstairs when she saw me there and give me a hug and tell me what a beautiful child I was. I found delight in one of the customers, a very large transvestite, who frequented the store. He always wore the most sparkly clothes I had ever seen and he’d wave to me if I was behind the counter. Today it’s less colorful but the store still stands and my father goes there every day to make his living just as his father and his grandfather did.

I still go there sometimes and I don’t feel unsafe there at all. I just feel alone when I’m driving down the street. A street where I can remember numerous viable businesses and lots of pedestrian traffic is almost completely boarded up and it’s a crap shoot each day as to whether or not the street lights are in working order. It kind of reminds you of one of those ghost towns in a kitschy cowboy movie except there’s nothing western about it, it’s just deserted.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

A post of the utmost importance

I’ve happened upon the best thing ever and it needs your immediate attention. Stop working or doing whatever it is that you’re doing. I guarantee you this is more important. It’s called the Southpark Studio. You can design an image of yourself, or anyone else, in Southpark likeness. Here I am at the bus stop waiting for Cartman and the boys. Oddly enough the most difficult thing, per my usual routine, was deciding what I was going to wear.

Yes, yes I already know what you’re going to say. It’s true. I’m easily amused, have too much time on my hands this morning, and often have the imbecile sense of humor of a 13 year old boy. I think it’s awesome though.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Meshuggenah does a Public Service Announcement

Necessary Disclaimer: I’m going to take a brief departure here from the regularly scheduled programming of angst, creative fluff and nothingness, and restaurant reviews and show that I am not completely and totally oblivious to all current events. I’m also going to express my political opinion here which I don’t normally do. If this isn’t your bag don’t read this post.

This Terry Schiavo feeding tube story has me completely riled up. Yes, I’m tired of hearing about it and so are you however we all need to 1. be completely outraged by the media coverage and the stand the Republican Party has taken on this issue and 2. learn from it. The notion that the Republican Party, and most notably the unfortunate inhabitant of the oval office, feels they’re “[erring] on the side of life” is completely outrageous to me. I suppose they are if one defines life as no consciousness and the inability to feed oneself. Boy, that’s really living, isn’t it? Even if we don’t get into the issue of quality of life or debate what persistent vegetative state means there’s still the larger issue at hand: it is so dangerous for us to allow the government to tread in such a personal arena. If Congress can legislate to force hearings on re-inserting the feeding tube in a woman who has been in a vegetative state for 15 years imagine what else they could do to impact how we choose to live our lives. There could be hearings on mandatory prayer in public schools, abortion rights, etc. The list could go on forever. Don’t let it.

Next would be the lesson. You may say I don’t see where there’s a lesson here. The lesson is GET A LIVING WILL. I have one and so should you. I think you can even have them drawn up over the internet now. There’s no excuse.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Insomnia and A Top Five

Every now and then I get a little bout of insomnia. Tonight is one of those nights. I’m doing laundry, watching VH-1, and listening to my iTunes on Shuffle. First I watched Behind the Music-George Michael and now it’s VH-1 Goes Inside-Awesome Movie songs. The programming doesn’t get much better than that, does it? For those of you who aren’t familiar with iTunes, you can organize it by genres, artists, create play lists, or numerous other things. Shuffle will just let it pick out completely random songs anywhere in your library though. My iTunes just played What A Little Moonlight Can Do (Billie Holiday), then Total Eclipse of the Heart (Bonnie Tyler), and then Kashmir (Led Zeppelin). Apart from being totally confused by that odd mix my mind really got in to Total Eclipse of the Heart. It’s a perfectly constructed 80s power ballad. It’s a great song but still cheesy enough to remain in the 80s power ballad category. An example of a song that would no longer fit into that category is In Your Eyes (Peter Gabriel). Deep down it’s really a cheesy 80s power ballad but it’s on So, it’s Peter Gabriel, and it’s in that great scene in Say Anything and all of that makes it less cheesy than the song itself. So this brings me to that which I have been debating for the last twenty-seven minutes; what else goes into the 80s power ballad category? I’ve gone to great lengths and thought about this for quite some time so that I could share my opinions with you, my readers, on this very important topic. So here goes, I’m counting it down High Fidelity style: My Top Five Awesome 80s power ballads.

5. Sister Christian (Night Ranger)
4. We Belong (Pat Benatar)
3. Making Love Out of Nothing At All (Air Supply)
2. At This Moment (Billy Vera & The Beaters)
1. Total Eclipse of the Heart (Bonnie Tyler)

Sunday, March 20, 2005

West County

Friday was one of those nights where I didn’t express my opinion, which believe it or not I am known to do every now and then, and ended up having one of the lamest nights I can remember. The first stop was “Capture the Moment,” the Pulitzer Prize Photograph collection from 1942 to the present at Maryville University. I’m not saying that the photographs aren’t worth looking at but they’re all reproductions on some kind of foam core and the crowd gawking at them was so large the volunteers could have used a cattle prod to keep it moving. I can appreciate the composition of the photographs and the talent of the photographer but the reason these photographs got noticed and won the Pulitzer Prize is because of the subject matter. They are all violent or depressing and I just wasn’t in the mood. Each picture is its own tragic little look into the atrocities of the last sixty years. It’s kind of like being forced to watch local news when you don’t want to. It’s terrible to say but sometimes ignorance is bliss. I give thanks to the Xanax gods for convincing me to have one of those little peach pills beforehand because without which I don’t think I could have been as laid back about spending an hour there as I was. From there it was off to what I will now refer to as the lamest sports bar in West County. We all know how many sports bars there are in West County so obviously the competition was pretty steep. This one takes first prize for sure. The rather large crowd of people who didn’t have babysitters for their children (I know this because they were running all over the restaurant) was intently focused on the myriad of NCAA games on the big screen TVs. The food was disgusting and there is no worse place to be than Clayton road west of Woods Mill. At least the Heineken was cold and I got a nice little buzz from drinking it with the aforementioned.

Saturday I was on a mission. I have less than two weeks before I leave for New York to attend my best friend’s bridal shower and bachelorette party. I’m a bridesmaid, yet again, and am giving the shower with the other bridesmaids. I need something to wear so I spent the entire day shopping. Most of the people who will be at this shower I haven’t seen since I was in college. They know me as that hippie girl from Missouri in the tie-dyed t-shirt with frizzy hair who probably smelled of incense or patchouli or whatever I thought I was covering up with that. Am I totally self-absorbed to wish that for once I could be the girl who chooses the perfect outfit, perfect shoes, has shiny hair, and looks put together? Whenever I was in their sorority world, to which I did not belong, I always felt completely alien. So anyway, I’m having a very odd weekend. It’s funny how you go along thinking that old ghosts have been exorcized and then something as silly as a bridal shower shows you they’re right there where they always were.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Can something broken be repaired or only mended?

Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.

The scene was dinner time on St. Patrick’s Day at Iron Barley Eating Establishment in South City, way south. There was no green beer to be had, thank g-d. The fare was surprisingly delightful, informal, unpretentious, and hearty. I’d go there again and again under different circumstances and I recommend it highly. See the recent Sauce Magazine review (aren’t you glad I didn’t refer you to a RFT restaurant review?) for the lowdown.

I was coveting a certain kind of nourishment other than dinner. A kind of nourishment that my dinner companions provided but that I find harder and harder to obtain. The fact that my companions choose to associate with one another is peculiar to begin with. Elements of the familiar are present yet the newness still hasn’t completely worn off for me. It plays like a scene from a movie or someone else’s life in my head. You see, this month marks the two year anniversary of the culmination of what was probably the worst time of my adult life, the assault to my identity of me, the breaking of the façade, my façade. You may ask if it was all really that dramatic. I would say yes, most definitely, one’s own drama always outweighs tragedies of even Shakespearean proportions. Does the fact that it’s the same time of year give me the right to relive it; to feel sad about it; to mourn the losses again? No, not really. We’re all guilty of a little self indulgence every now and then though. I’m always my own worst critic. I’m literally a fraction of the person, in a good way, that I was two years ago and I’ve conquered some very lethal addictions. I still need the approval of my dinner companions though. I thrive on the sense of validation it affords me. It occurs to me that it’s the exact right time to strip them of that kind of power that they may or may not even know they have. Mental note at dinner…work on that. So I forced a smile for the night and tried to appreciate it for what it was, just dinner. I did what I do best. I ordered a really decadent dessert (which is now one of my all time favorite St. Louis restaurant desserts) and made that my focus for the rest of the evening.

Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you're chokin',
Everything is broken.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Blogger Meetup Group

Last night was the March Blogger meetup. I had a nice conversation and dinner with Lost Pear, Sugar, and .::Brick City::. at Modai. If you didn’t show up I’ll just refer you to my blogger behind the curtain post from last month. It’s like my version of a rerun. Your regularly scheduled programming will return shortly, or whenever I feel like it. Good thing the company was good because I must say I wasn’t impressed with Modai. I can’t say anything was bad, just lackluster and pricy. I’m glad I got to try it but I don’t think I’d rush back. I don’t think there’s going to be too many more organized meetup groups but it had the promise to be very interesting while it lasted.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Being a Jew in the Lou

I received this in my in box this morning:

Greetings. New York Jew here, contemplating (pretty seriously) a move to St. Louis this year. I linked to your blog from the Brick City blog, which I linked to from Ecology of Absence.

Like a lot of Jews of my generation (I'm a lot older than you), I've learned to sniff out signs of Jewish life in the least likely places, so when I saw the title, Meshuggenah (sp?), I pounced. I am writing to ask for your take on Jewish life, to the extent there is any, in StL--provided, of course, you'd be willing to share it.

In fact, I know there's organized Jewish life in StL--I'll be attending Shabbat services at Central Reform on [a date very near to right now]. But the synagogue to me is a cultural touchstone; I'm not the sort of person whose primary community is a religious one--even one as politically liberal as Central Reform appears to be.

I guess what I'm asking is this: How does it feel to be a Jew in St. Louis? Is it sort of like being a Zoroastrian--interesting, exotic even, but not terribly relevant to your or anyone else's daily life? Even here in New York, most of my friends are not Jewish (hell--even my wife isn't Jewish), so it's not like I'm looking for a total-immersion experience. I'm just wondering how it feels to you--a St. Lou Jew, born and bred.

Care to share your thoughts?

Here is my extremely long winded response:

I am certainly willing to share my take on Jewish life in St. Louis although I feel there are probably a lot of people better qualified to do so than myself. First, I think it’s important that you understand St. Louis itself. St. Louis is the world’s largest small town and everyone wants to know where you went to high school. Certainly in my lifetime I don’t think anyone would disagree that the population of the actual city keeps decreasing while the population of St. Louis County and outlying areas west of the county and in IL east of the city keeps increasing. The County is basically what you would imagine any other suburban area in America to be and the City is a collection of neighborhoods that were originally distinct mostly due to whatever ethnicity predominately resided there. The population in the County is determined mostly by religion and affluence. Catholic people like to be in certain parishes, Jews like to be near certain synagogues, others want certain school districts, etc. I think I have a unique perspective in that I grew up in West County but was exposed to a lot of different parts of the city and the world that a lot of people who grew up there wouldn’t normally be. My parents made it a point to take us all around the city, I’ve traveled all over the world, I went to college on the East coast, I spent a great deal of time in E. St. Louis, IL when I was growing up, and my family also has a farm in central Missouri in a town where we are the only Jews some people have ever seen. I attended an elementary school that was probably 30%-40% Jewish and a high school that was at least 30% Jewish though.

I think it’s very easy for a Jew from New York to assume that there wouldn’t be very much of a Jewish population in the middle of Missouri but believe it or not there actually is. The vast majority of the Jewish population in the area would reside in St. Louis County starting in University City and moving as far West as Wildwood. Most synagogues are in West County. Central Reform, the one you mentioned in your letter, is in the city. I can’t actually think of any others in the city but there may very well be. I had the opportunity to attend the Yom Kippur service at Central Reform this past fall and was actually very impressed with the rabbi, the congregation, and the sincerity of it all. It’s definitely a refreshing departure from the other reformed synagogues in the area. I can think of at least 8 synagogues in town that I have attended a service at some point in my life for some reason or another plus there’s a Jewish Community Center, a local branch of the Jewish Federation, Aish Hatorah, local Chasidic and Frum communities, Kosher meat markets and groceries, Kosher sections at regular groceries, and Jewish delicatessens. It’s certainly not like being in New York but these things do exist if you seek them out.

If I had to specify where I received the limited Jewish education I possess and Jewish identity that I have I would say it was at the Jewish Summer camp I attended for 8 years. Being Jewish was never stressed at home for me and we never attended religious services as a complete family. My mother would take my brother and I on the High Holidays and that was it. We did go to Sunday school but didn’t last long enough to get confirmed. I find the older I get the more I have a desire for knowledge about being Jewish whether I choose to apply it to my life or not. It’s something that I feel is inside of me no matter what and something that I’ve never felt a need to hide or shy away from. The majority of people who I have been close to over the course of my life have been Jewish. That being said I also avoid the majority of the Jewish population in St. Louis like the plague. I don’t live in the County and don’t care to associate with the kind people I grew up with or be part of the incessant rumor mill maintained by many of the people my parents associate with. At the same time I’m fascinated by new things I see going on amongst Jews of my own age such as Heeb Magazine, Jewlicious, Jewschool, and an overall pride and acceptance of our ethnicity and heritage. It’s amazing to read a blog by someone in New York or LA or whatever and find that commonality that you feel when you read about their experience at Jewish summer camp, love of kosher hot dogs, and that time when they hit the Manischewitz a little too hard. I don’t find any evidence of these new things in St. Louis though. There are no Heeb Magazine or JDate functions. Perhaps they do exist and I just don’t know where to look. I guess I’m just a mass of contradictions and I’m going to turn 30 in less than a year and that kind of freaks me out. I’m going through some kind of existential Generation X identity crisis and I hope I was able to give you some sort of answer that you were looking for about Jewish life in St. Louis in spite of it all.

Friday, March 11, 2005

I had this actual conversation around 2:45 this afternoon.

Me: Hello
Bridezilla in New York: Hi, it’s Bridezilla, what’s going on?
Me: Not too much, what’s up with you?
Bridezilla: I’m having a wedding crisis.
Me: Oh, what’s wrong now?
Bridezilla: I had to fire my wedding coordinator because she screwed up my invitations.
Me: That sucks, are they going to be able to fix them in time?
Bridezilla: The soon to be Mr. Bridezilla’s mother already went there, put a rush on them, and they’re ready this afternoon. They’re exactly what I wanted except for one HUGE problem.
Me: What’s that?
Bridezilla: I wanted the envelopes fully lined and they are only half lined!
Me: I swear to G-d that I won’t tip anyone off about the envelope lining, or lack thereof, and that everything will work out in the end. Not only that but I do truly believe that not one person who receives an invitation to your wedding will even notice that the envelopes are half lined instead of fully lined. Everything is going to be just fine.
Bridezilla: I just realized this whole conversation kind of makes me sound like such a whiny J.A.P.
Me: You just realized?

Have a nice weekend.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

An open letter to the woman who was in front of me at the License Bureau today.

I mean this in the nicest possible way. You completely ruined my lunch hour today and I didn’t get to accomplish everything I wanted to accomplish because you detained the clerk for a ridiculous amount of time. You complained about the vision test necessary to renew your license when judging by your score, it is people like you who make it vital that we have our vision tested every four years to ensure safe motorists. Your son, who had he not looked exactly like you I would have otherwise sworn was some kind of demon spawn, did not stop whining for the entire 12.7 minutes you detained the license bureau clerk. His nose was running and he had sticky lollipop on his face. I cannot possibly take even a wild guess at how long it had been on his face up until the point when our paths crossed at the license bureau. He stepped on my foot, didn’t apologize, and put a scuff on my really cute new shoes. I sincerely hope that it comes off later because I do not want to have to remember this incident, and that demon spawn, each time I look at my really cute new shoes. The clerk at the license bureau shared my sentiments regarding your departure which she acknowledged with a very pained look on her face followed by a reassuring smile as you walked out of the door. The only positive thing that transpired during my lunch hour was that I got to pick up a falafel at Pita + after the license bureau and we all know how much I like that. Have a good one.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Monday Again

I don’t have much to report. I still have remnants of the cold I’ve had for sixteen days. I’m confident the end is in site though. You don’t realize how much you take little things like breathing for granted until you can barely do it. The weather was so nice on Saturday and Sunday. It’s kind of a tease. I know we’ll have some more cold weather but I had a preview of what’s to come and that makes what’s left of winter that much more unbearable. Two months until the swimming pool gets opened. It’s so close I can almost feel it. I saw Hitch over the weekend. I was prepared to totally hate this movie but it turned out to be not so bad. Don’t rush out and see it but if you happen to catch it on cable or at Blockbuster it’s not totally awful. I know, I know...lame. I also did some shopping over the weekend. All the summer shoes are out. It’s totally pointless to buy them now because I can’t wear them yet and I have over 50 pairs in my closet right at this very moment but they’re so irresistible. My name is Michelle and I have a problem with shoes…oh, and occasionally purses.

Friday, March 04, 2005

X Chromosomes

I don’t really think I’m in a position to get dooced so I’m just going to throw this out there because it’s been on my mind for the past few days…
I just returned from a sales trip to Las Vegas which I attended with roughly fourteen other co-workers. I had to share a room with a new female salesperson that has been with the company just over a month. Let’s call her T. She seemed nice enough and the first 36 hours went off without a hitch: then came our first day of the trade show. I started off with a bang writing a very large order with another salesperson’s customer. This being my first official sale for the company, (normally my job entails more behind the scenes type things), everyone was extremely pleased. The rest of the morning went the same way. I kept writing nice orders with existing customers and even opened some new accounts. T started seething. It was like I drew first blood. She started questioning me in between customers and peeking in the order file to look at my orders after I dropped them off. I didn’t know it was possible for a 40 something year old woman to regress to the equivalent of a playground bully that easily. I don’t play the innocent girl with pigtails routine but seriously, I’m not one to start a rivalry with another co-worker much less a woman. I’ve already been in that position in my career path and am happy to affirm that I no longer feel any of those kinds of pressures. I’m on a different path now. It’s a path where caring for and about myself takes precedence over my career. That being said, it was extremely difficult for me to ignore that kind of gauntlet being thrown down. Bring it on, biatch. Basically I smoked her during the next 3-4 days. I just kept selling and put more energy into it but never said a word to her that would lead her to believe I was actually competing with her. The funny thing is as soon as we’d go back to the hotel at the end of the day she’d turn into a different person. She was all friendly and laid back again. It was like she possessed two distinct personalities who had never met each other. Now we’re back at the office and she’s friendly but icy. I think I got frostbite, brrrrr…

My question is why are so many women like this with other women? I would think that a woman would be happy for another woman who was doing well in a predominantly male company. I don’t think men behave this way with other men. I think this behavior is exclusive to those with two X chromosomes. Sometimes it’s as if two Xs repel each other instead of attracting. It just goes to show you that no matter how old you are you it’s always possible to find yourself back on the playground.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Vegas, baby. Vegas.

I bet you thought I deserted my blog? I’ve been in Vegas for the last six days and can’t possibly express how ecstatic I am to be back at home. Six days in Vegas is like a month somewhere else. I spent the majority of my time working my ass off and getting over the cold that I’ve had for the last eleven days but I found a little time to squeeze in some fun for myself.

My daily routine pretty much went like this: wake up and eat breakfast with my coworkers, spend nine hours each day at trade show, and then spend the night walking around trying to cram as much in as I possibly could. I spent a lot of time at Caesars Palace and the Venetian because of the good shopping. This was my fourth visit to sin city so I pretty much feel like I’ve done it all at this point. I’ve decided to tap into my infinite wisdom and put together a Las Vegas survival guide for those who care:

1. Wear comfortable shoes at all times because no matter where you go or what you do it’s pretty much a guarantee you’ll walk your ass off.
2. If you want to know what time it is wear a watch because that’s the only way you’re ever going to find out. It’s a conspiracy. No one wants you to know.
3. Don’t accept the fine literature from the people on the street handing it out.
4. Don’t get lured into the less desirable hotels promising free buffets and show tickets. If they were worth going to they wouldn’t be free.
5. Yes, the hotel knows that those women in the casino after midnight are prostitutes. No, you aren’t the first guest to come to that realization.
6. Drink lots of water. Not only does it help prevent hangovers but you are in the desert, which really dries you out, and you need to be properly hydrated.
7. This sounds cliché but it’s true, whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
8. Resist the temptation of the giant Wheel of Fortune type slot machine in the middle of the casino. You will never win.
9. Is it so important to gamble at the airport in Vegas? Have you ever heard anyone say I hit the jackpot at the airport? No, you haven’t.
10. Midnights-to-six during the middle of the week is in fact the skank shift.

Between being sick and going out of town I feel like I haven’t done anything or seen anyone in months. I’m still a little congested but call me. I’m up for relaxing, low key outings this weekend.