One more photo blast

Sorry. One more photo blast. One of these days, things at the Chamber of Horrors my workplace will settle back into a somewhat manageable level of chaos, and I can get back to writing for fun rather than profit.

We went to Las Vegas this summer. Twice.

Check the eye rolls at the door, please. It was fun. It was, dare I say, relaxing. If you consider a constant auditory parade of Rihanna and Katy Perry relaxing. (It's kind of like a wild 36-hour trip to a total immersion Pop Culture Camp before humbly crawling back to the relative comforts of NPR.)

I think I've said this before: My date and I have changed our approach to Vegas over the years. Now we go for the three Ps -- pool time, people watching and perishables (ie, the grub). Our trips did not disappoint.

We went with Dr. and Milady Poophead, the Seattle out in-laws, in July. They're a swell pair to travel with.

This is Mrs. Poophead chatting up a cab driver.
The woman can break down even the most crabby cabby.

Hey kids -- a mini TV on the bathroom faucet
advertising Cirque du Soleil.
It's the latest rage!

A bulldog walked into a bar in Vegas, , , ,

Everything seems just a little larger than life in Vegas.

I rest my case.

We returned somewhat spontaneously in mid-September, sensing our warm, sunny days in Bermtopia were quickly becoming numbered. Just a more few days of the hot, dry desert sun, please.

Much better, thank you.

A big boxing match was slated for Saturday at the MGM, where we just happened to be staying. Let's just say the boxing crowd was a bit different than the pharmaceutical crowd, who swarmed the MGM when we were there in July. (Although we certainly learned firsthand why our box of Zyrtec costs $15 when the convention hosts basically "bought" -- and closed -- three of the pools at the MGM for an private afternoon-evening fete. Sadly, we had tickets to "Jersey Boys" and could not attend.)

The pharmaceutical reps wore lanyard name tags.
Boxing fans didn't.

And just when we thought our Vegas lives were complete,
look who stopped to say "Good-bye" as our cab turned out of the MGM

ELVIS IS IN THE HOUSE.