Listening:
Soul Coughing, Ruby Vroom
Tool, Salival

I really don't know why I feel like I must make this entry. Those who are curious about my weekend can ask me how it went and I will happily tell them. It feels redundant to post here and almost against the spirit of my journal to talk about mundane things I've already gone over with other people.

*shrug* Whatever.

So my weekend.

At 4:55PM on Thursday I was trying to wrap up my work and clock out for the week when our systems suffered an astounding collapse of epic proportions. *NOTHING* worked. Couldn't finish my last order, couldn't clock out, couldn't email folks to explain my situation, I didn't have access to the freaking printers!! But it was no small source of jokes that the reason we had cocktails on the house from 530 to 730 was cause the folks who hosted our network liked us so much they offered to have monthly parties at a really snazzy restaurant just off of Colorado. Drinks and appetizers, totally free. Clearly they got started before us.

Molasses chose to skip the party to do stuff at his place that supposedly included packing. I suspect the ratio of playing NeverWinter Nights to packing heavily favored his computer to tossing a couple of days of clothing into his car. But anyway the martinis were good and I think I've discovered a new love for sour apples. I debated asking for a smoke but decided against it since I was supposed to go to Perversion later with Molasses.

When happy hour was over I did what I could to recover and headed home. Still lightly buzzed when I got there, I saw Molasses on my bed and I curled up around him. His state of unconciousness was so pervasive that it sucked me down as well and we dozed. I woke at nine thirty thinking we should head out but he was still gone. I tried shifting around but he didn't budge. I didn't try to wake him fully because I seriously didn't want to hear him tell me he didn't want to after all. I dozed again and woke again a little after ten. Still nothing. He was dressed for the club. I strongly suspect if I said anything he would point at me and say clearly since I wasn't dressed *I* was the one who didn't seem to want to go.

Finally at eleven thirty I got up and took my clothes off and plopped down in front of my computer and checked my email one last time and surfed a few journals. He got up this time and tried to be loving and I avoided his touch. Between getting ready for and crawling into bed, getting up in the morning and breakfast at IHOP and rolling out east I said as little as possible and avoided showing any interest in his presence. When we got onto the 10 I immediately fell asleep and didn't wake up until we were out on the 15 somewhere (still over 100 miles from Vegas).

He still refuses to ask why I'm annoyed and why I get so quiet. He insists that it seems exactly the same as when I'm quiet due to intense depression and that when he asks then I don't have answer for him. Generally when I'm annoyed to the point where I've gone silent it seems like a better plan than spitting out all the things that are actually going through my head. To say that the thoughts are unkind would be a terrible understatement.

But when I'm not feeling so and he insists that the appear the same to him I feel my stomach turn into knots and I bite my lip to keep from shouting "bullshit!" It's one of the few things that seriously makes me wonder about sticking with him. I just can't make myself believe that from outside of my skin being down and sad looks identical to being furious. I just don't buy it. I doubt he's lying to me. But he does have a tendancy to rationalize gut reactions that other people don't bother trying to explain. Either that or he literally _doesn't get it_ and that also makes me feel *extremely* uneasy. But now I've gotten terribly far from my subject.

And it doesn't matter anyway if I bring it up to him it'll somehow be my fault.

So somewhere past Indio I decided I missed him more than I was mad at him and started showing him again and all was well with the world. }:>

I read most of Coraline on the way up. Books written for nine-year-olds are surprisingly quick reads when you're 25. }:> Plus I wanted to feel warm and safe when I read it since it is supposed to be a terrifying story. I didn't really find it such, but again that's because sound really affects me and the only thing to be heard was the car's engine, the AC and the CDs. Molasses was to my left and outside the Mojave surrounded us keeping us *plenty* warm.

We pulled into Vegas around three in the afternoon and I was expecting to feel something of a surreal limbo staring at the hotels. I wasn't let down. That place is kinda freaky.

One of the live action games I love to play is called Garou for 'loupe-garou,' or werewolf. One of their signature things is that they are the last vestiges of a race of protectors of all things wild. Or excuse me, wyld. sheesh. As part of that M.O. they mostly hate places where humans congregate because of the horrible things those places do to the Gaia-Mother. They call them "scabs."

If ever was a scab then Las Vegas would be one of the most infamous. It truly boggles the mind how hard people have worked at shoving the elegant next to the grotesque with mere feet between. It also messes with me when I think how precious water and power must be this far from no where, and how they plow through it like there's no tomorrow. I was born during an energy crisis and spent several formative years in a nasty drought. Conservation isn't merely an ideology with me, it's a way of life.

But the irony of finding a placard over the towels in our room asking to help them conserve wasn't lost on me.

We stopped for lunch at Paris. I wasn't nearly so taken by it as Molasses was when he stayed there. For the most part it looked like a big mall, but they went to a great effor to make it look like what I guess a small Parisian avenue would look like on a calm April day. They even painted the vaulted ceiling blue with fluffy white clouds. Molasses said it could fool you because you'd be in there in the middle of the night and forget time is passing. Maybe I didn't spend enough time in there but I felt it really alienating, because frankly it wasn't as bright as a day really is. The place we had lunch at also had pastries, but damn they were expensive. I had been led to believe that food in Vegas was cheap. I have decided that in fact, this is not so.

Sadly, that was the most I got to see of the inside of a "classy" casino. We just didn't really have the time otherwise. Which is to say of course, we didn't make the time.

Which is a compliment of sorts to the good folks who ran the games and kept us too busy to partake of the rumored "delights" of Las Vegas.

Apparently the best time to wander the strip is between 8pm and 11pm. But of course, that was opposite Cam/anarch.

Going from previous experience I kept expecting to hit a null point where I could sneak out and go take a look 'round but none of the dull points ever hit the extreme of making me want to get outa there. Which *greatly* surprised me. Many, MANY kudos to Adam P and Kevin for making a liar out of me and giving me a few fun things to do while playing Vampire. Of course no small amount of that was kismet since Molasses' PC quite literally grabbed a chunk of the plot and came to share it with the rest of us. Thanks to him I was the best informed Nos at the clan meeting. *grins*

The joke of the weekend was that the Luxor is clearly a nexus of evil. Starting with a Republican convention being held there to a fwe Black Spiral Dancers, several numbers of Nephandi and even a few Baali. The Luxor looks awesome at night *especially* from 15,000 feet. I wasn't actually at 15,000 feet this time, but I have flown over it and it is neat. But I've never been inside, durnit. It's supposed to ahve really cool Egyption stuff. *shrugs* we'll see.

Between at least two venues (but mostly the mage venue) the place was really thrashed.

Saturday was The Squire of Dimness' 27th birthday. Sadly I didn't get him anything because he persists in being impossible to shop for. Maybe I should get him a copy of Coraline. In his honor Molasses and I grabbed Chuck (that's a fake name, I swear! ok, it's not) at around two am and armed with a few free passes to the Pussy Cats, we set out. The Squire didn't go because he elected to play Sabbat. }:P

We drove slowly around the strip looking at the pretty lights, but didn't bother getting out due to the fact that only the casinos were likely to be open. I think we were mislead by the Pussy Cat thing because I know *I* was expecting to drink alcohol. Silly nobody, why drink alchol when you can spend $10 on a glass of soda???

The girls were nice enough and apparently when you only have to divide your attention between seven people and depend on them for money you get *very* attentive.

But sadly it seems that they have a good rush from midnight to three am and when we walked in at three-ten they were looking at the home stretch before they closed at five. And it showed. The ladies were rather tired and a couple seemed to have to work to get into the groove of things. I think the point of going is to enjoy the sights rather than feeling sorry for them, but I was really starting to feel sorry the dancers. I also realized how hard it is on the body to dance like that the third time one of the girls dropped to her knees causing the stage to bounce hard.

Oh, but I can forgive a lot for the fleeting touch of a woman's breast, and I must say the good women of the Pussy Cat had come up with some *really* interesting ways of taking dollars from their grateful audience. I had to swallow before telling each one "no" after she asked me if I'd like a lap dance. Goodness... *fans herself*

But we only stayed for an hour. It honestly wasn't a very good club for all that the ladies worked so hard. The music was rediculously loud and at one point the DJ started singing along through his live mic. And there were huge pauses between dancers (filled in with loud music and a DJ of questionable skills) that were nearly ten minutes long. At four we were nodding off even with the music so it was time to call it quits.

Saturday was really kicked off when the cleaning crew showed up at around nine and I couldn't put enough coherent thoughts to do anything more than growl at the door. At one point Molasses pulled himself together enough to hang the "Do Not disturb" sign up. We got up later than we intended and drove around in the blistering heat and found a nice family restaurant to have brunch at. Blueberry Hill Family Restaurant on Charleston about a mile south (I think) of Fremont, definately good food and good people, and if you're lucky there'll be this sweet as sugar little girl with black eyes who will be completely awe-struck by your existence.

Because we got up late we got back late and I missed most of the Mage ST meeting. But for some silly reason Delwin (that's his name, except for when it isn't) and I agreed that there would be times when I would need to walk around and be random ST on site. *shrug* I could have just played, but I think I did help just by virtue of taking some of the pressure off the narrators who were getting crowded by a dozen or more players eager to get their shot. I also got to be in character for the first hour or so and did the usual hacking and reconn. I could have played much the same as I always do, honestly but I probably would have gotten a ton of paradox. Sancta are good, good things.

And anyway what they would have had my PC do I would have cringed at as an ST.

We had dinner at the fanciest restaurant at the Castaways. Trouble was they were *really* slow. They were very apologetic and offered us free dessert (which we took), but I filled up on bread before I got to the dinner. Lots of yummy seafood and pasta, but I ended up eating only half. Molasses missed the Gangrel meeting, but I got up there in time for the Nosferatu clan meeting. I ran around doing a few Nos things until there were no more and then it was about 11pm. I was eyeing the clock because I had promised to get several items for Squire's birthday party and had done nothing of the sort. So I borrowed Molasses' car, asked for the nearest grocery store of the helpful people at the front desk and set off. I only got a little bit lost but all in all spent nearly a hundred dollars on some excellent spirits and mixers as well as a few sundry details like napkins, cups and pretzels.

Every penny was well spent, believe you me. };>

I started drinking at about 1230am and didn't quit till about 730am. I think that beat a few college records. }%>

It's been far too long since I've been *that* blitzed. w00t! Hell at one point I noticed that sunlight was coming in through the window and I decided to keep drinking anyway. I really think that a good time was had by all, except maybe the asshole that kept calling security on us on the 17th floor that made us abandon Squire's party in favor of another (bigger and DJ'd too) party on the 19th floor. It probably wasn't so unfortunate as annoying since I actually had an unexpected good time at the other party. Flirted shamelessly and was flirted with. Though a certain Mr Flood became victim to my ire. It was really out of line and I still owe him an apology. But he didn't seem to get too terrbly upset so hopefully the only bad parts are in my head. There was also this other guy who thought he'd be cute and bite my neck. I'm still a little unhappy about that, primarily cause it hurt. The Squire was certainly having a blast, though I'm not sure when he bailed. I'm not really even sure when we moved to the 19th floor but at that point Molasses headed away to bed. It's a good thing because if only one of us was going to be sober on Sunday it should probably be the one who was going to drive.

Other memories of the party were of dancing to a remix of Nine Inch Nails' "Closer," notable only because it had samples of the soundtrack to Super Mario Bros, trying, drunkenly, to explain to a roomful of sadly ignorant blokes why Neil Gaiman rules the known world, listening to Brian L go on about his "fucking HOT" wife, sitting the Lady of the room on a couch with Brian L and Kevin and asking them why people get married.

Kevin, who's never been married to my knowledge, said something pretty basic. I think it had to do with going through life with someone else made life easier, or some such. It struck me that I had heard it before so I didn't really make an effort to pay close attention. But he didn't go over some of the more boring statements that other singles have made about owning property or raising children. None of them did so I was relieved at not having to tell them that their answers were irrelevant to the question. Brian did come close. I don't know how long he's been married but he plays the part of "disgusting in love" very thoroughly. His answer was intensely personal but I couldn't quite explain it to him that I wasn't asking why *he* had gotten married, but rather why "marriage" happens. It's odd, I didn't feel awkward listening to him eventhough he telling me about his wife while resting his forehead against mine, but trying to write what he said now feels...invasive. At any rate he got married and *is* married because he has been in love with his wife so thoroughly that it would be madness to do anything else. That doesn't exactly answer the question, but it makes it make sense in his case.

I was surprised that the Lady's answer actually reached in and made a lot of sense to me. Maybe because she's female, certainly it helps that she's been married before, but I think I didn't expect her to take me seriously and answer as honestly as she could. But she said that people got married because continuing on the same path as two entities at some point doesn't make any sense as much as becoming one single unit and proceeding down the road you were already going. I'm paraphrasing of course, but I think i've got the gist of it here.

Thankfully, they didn't ask why I was asking. It's really tough to explain when I'm sober. And no, this doesn't mean I want to get married. Far from it. Also thankfully, they didn't really rehash old ideas I've heard before that seem hopelessly entrenched in mindless tradition and rationale that stopped being effective a couple of centuries ago.

At seven thirty I excused myself and made my way to my room. I was so bombed I couldn't get in the door without help. I woke up a couple of hours later to Molasses shoving water at me and not letting me get back to sleep until I had drunk two cupfulls. It tasted good but I seriously did not want to be concious right then. Eventually he left after calling for another wake up call for me at one pm. Squire's garou game was set to start at eleven but besides the fact that it's against the rules to show up to a Cam event under the influence of //anything// I was not going to be pleasant company without more rest.

Still when I did get up I kept drinking more water and served myself more still, but it was hard to shake the feeling of having cotton stuffed into my brains even in the shower. Finally I got to the game site and was pretty sad at having missed a good chunk of the game, fortunately it was a *very* fun game where the STs easily pitted the PCs against themselves and political correctness be damned. I could only have gotten more into it if my character was one who likes to shout (she's not) and if I didn't have a splitting headache through most of it. When there are no elders around, chaos reigns. }:>

By the time the game ended I was practically feeling faint and it took me a while to realize that in the last twenty hours I hadn't eaten anything, gotten about four hours of sleep and spent a good chunk of time poisoning myself. So Molasses and I went on a great hunt for food which actually wouldn't have taken long if we hadn't gotten distracted by friends smoking at one of the restaurants. I sincerely wonder what the cancer rate is like in Nevada, and I sincerely think that a lot of the smokers from California were lighting up there purely because they could. Thank God for Molasses or I certainly would have gone ahead and smoked my brains out too.

We found some pizza and settled down to eat it, though I had to take my time so as to not puke at the smell of it.

Thereafter we hit the road and immediately, and for most of the 15 dealt with a lot of traffic.

We pulled into LA around midnight and quickly collapsed into bed sighing out deliberations as to whether or not to call in sick on Monday. (We didn't.)

And now I'm back. Go me.