Las Vegas and other aromatic herbs - that yellow bastard

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March 14th, 2003

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2003.0314.1535::Las Vegas and other aromatic herbs
So we (Keely, khubli, Flossie, and Team Boobie) booked our flights and rooms for April's Sin City Spectacular. It cost a pretty penny, but I think it'll be worth it. I sent Jerry e-mail to see if he wanted to go, as well, since it looks like I'll be partaking of a single room at the Luxor by my lonesome. Of course, I could hook up with some nymphet while trading chips at the Bellagio Poker Room, but since I'd expect the women at the poker tables (aside from those going on the trip) to be at least seven years my senior, as well as the abject terror which grips me when it comes to talking to new people, I'll probably be spending my room time alone.

khubli and I went indoor rock climbing for the first time in almost a year. Heavens, it's fun, but it's rough. My knees are all red and abraded, while my back and arms have a heavy soreness to them. Whenever I take a long break from climbing (and this would be the longest), my arms tend to not work well at all following my first trip back to the gym. I had issues brushing my teeth last night!

At least I'm getting some exercise. Now I need to find some means of aerobic workout so I can further stave off my growing tubbyness.

I just found from a FOAF. A particularly funny entry:
For some reason, when I was a little kid I was convinced that if you hooked two nine volt batteries to each other, they'd explode violently and destroy anything within about 100 feet.

Some part of me still thinks this. batnandu suggested that we try it sometime--connect two nine-volts and leave them someplace. You'd think that someone would have already done this experiment and written it up on some website, but a cursory search of Google turns up nothing but a description of devices which use two nine-volts.

My parents are coming up this weekend. I need to clean the condo up and put away all the, umm, non-childish things.... I've already thrown a bunch of stuff into the closet, which is a veritable jungle of boxes and papers, but since my father is a bit of a stickler for "proper" bookkeeping, I need to get all my bills and statements in order.

I'm writing something. Nothing particularly concrete as of yet, but listening to some of Philip K. Dick's stories--"Second Variety," "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale," "Paycheck," and "The Minority Report"--on the way down and back up from Miami put me in a writing mood.

The story which I'm writing puts a different spin on Rekal from "Wholesale"--what if you could rent someone else's body to wear for an hour, a day, or a week? What kind of person would allow themselves to be rented out?
Current Mood: Vegas, baby

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