Vegas Baby!

Vegas is the reason I won't be here for a whole week! Woo!

Oh wait, no, that's right. I'm not going to Vegas.

Motherly is going to Vegas for New Years.

I'm going to Denver to watch her house while she goes to Vegas.

It's okay though. The last time I went to Vegas, this happened:

To be fair, my boobs had just popped up that summer so I was feeling overly confident.

Motherly gambled away her money that trip.

I gambled away the chance that I would ever put on any medieval clothing ever again.

Then again six years later this happened.

In my defense I was on a huge Pepsi high when the guy to my left bought all his chick friends outfits so we could strut around the mall like frickin' idiots. Seriously.

You can't even see my cleavage!  

Who does that?! 


Thank God for Matt who came along and married me so I could be less weird.

Huh.

This post has gotten completely out of control. I need a vacation.

According to Motherly, I'm taking one this week.

I'll be staying at La Spa de Motherly in the tropical islands of Denver. I will wake up every morning to a complimentary Cup O' Noodles, homemade salsa and pasta salad that Motherly prepared in advance. From my deluxe suite, I will have a very scenic view of snow. I will have the luxury of having no internet - ah the peace and quiet - and every day I will be privately entertained by a small choir of shi-tzus. Every night the maid service (me) will turn down my bed (and clean up the entire house to Motherly's satisfaction, or else the itshay, will hit the anfay.)

When Motherly returns, she has insisted that we have some mother/daughter bonding time by catching a movie.

I wonder if she'll enjoy Jackass in 3D.