Yesterday would have been my 7th wedding anniversary, a fact which did not occur to me until this morning. I suppose that can be taken as a sign of healing.
Or maybe it’s simply a reflection of how much fun I had at BettyFest.
I mean, how often to you get to play the “You know how I know you’re gay?” game with two gay guys? (Note: It’s not so much funny that way. I thought about segueing into the new game greated by these guys, but might have not really wanted to know the answers). Though based on one impetuous remark, you can use this one next time:
You know how I know you’re gay? I asked how much you’d pay me to take my shirt off when I sing karaoke to Slayer’s “Seasons in the Abyss” and you offered me your platinum credit card.
It just rolls off the tongue.
Or, you know how I know you’re gay? You ordered your SoCo on the rocks. Blasphemy.
You might wonder how one ends up at the Imperial Palace on a Sunday night in Vegas, drinking heavily (that’s one clue) and listening to nearly-universally poor karaoke, the low-light of which was a just-betrothed Marine and his white trash bride attempting some lascivious Prince song.
Don’t worry, I told random Arsenal fans here to suck it instead.
Never underestimate the healing powers of Las Vegas!!
…and roulette!!!
I should have known better then to read a Vegas trip report from you when my trip is a month away.
Here’s to a month of not sleeping in anticipation of PAI GOW TILT!
I’m sure the ex had a good day. I imagine she started out by teaching AJ some swear words. Then she probably wanted to go hang out with the douchebag poet but AJ was in the way, so she figured she could just give him a ten spot and leave him at the mall for the day. After forgetting AJ was still at the mall because she was too busy making the douchebag poet recite his daily poem she makes him write for her, which coincidentally, all start the same way, "Life is a…" She picks AJ up, lies to him about why she was late, possibly yells at him for spending the entire $10 because she was counting on having some of that back. Then she brings him home and ignores him while nestling herself into the doughy side of the douchebag poet and getting drunk with plans on calling into work the next day with the excuse that someone in the family passed away. You know, the usual.
Remember when Betty got that flush?
I gave you my credit card and never got to see the goods… such a TEASE!