How to squash the winter blues

I realize that I swore I was staying out of airports for a while, but as usual--I talk out my ass. The winter makes me crazy. I get cranky and tired and sleepy without something to look forward to. Last year was not too bad, as we went on a cruise in February, so I had scuba diving on the mind.

This year, I have nothing big scheduled until our trip to Bonaire on May 30. It is wearing me out. It is particularly sad because Barry has boy ski trip planned mid-March (over crispy critter weekend of all things, can you believe that?).

I have a couple of days off in February--President's Day and Lincoln's bday--and they fall so close together that I got this big idea that I would go to Amy's and hang out in LA for a long weekend. I emailed her right up and told her so and we started talking about what we could do, and just as I was emailing her that we could go to Vegas, she emailed that she was flexible on what time I came in as she would be in Vegas the weekend before but would be in the office most of the week--so to plan around that. With all of that communal thinking going on, we decided that I would just meet her and her girls in Vegas.

Except, uh, I forgot to ask Barry. We were working schedules and airfares and changing hotel reservations, and I forgot to ask him. Then he did not answer the phone when I thought of it. So we had to wait. Finally he called me back and said he was good on that weekend so he could be home to tend to the beasts and of course he did not care if I went. He may have also said "does it really matter what I say?" Well, sure it matters--if he really did not want me to go--I would not. But he better have a good reason. Then he said "Can you afford it?" Well hell no, I cannot afford it, which is part of why I need to go so bad! Me and Master Card are good friends though, so when all was said and done, I clicked on the button and signed myself on.

Amy made us reservations at THEhotel by Mandalay Bay, which looks really nice. It will be just us Thursday nite, and the other girls will arrive Friday. I know one of the girls going with, so that is good.

I am really looking forward to this. I have not been to Vegas in 10 years and I love it. I love it despite my not insignificant blackjack problem. I have never really gone to the clubs in Vegas though, and that will be the focus of this trip--plus there are some functions we will have business with during our stay.

Since this is all new to me, I asked what clothes I need to wear and Amy says she will be wearing short and slutty. Sure, she will, at 6 feet tall and in perfect shape. Me not so much with the short and slutty. That would not be cute. We figured out some things I can wear (and she threatened my life if I showed up in Crocs and swears they will not let me in if I show up in less than appropriate footwear), but I still need a couple of tops that are club appropriate. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find clothes in circus size that are appropriate club wear? Damned hard. That is probably a good thing as us fat chicks do not need to be going around in those sorts of get-ups with out gear hanging out. Especially fat chics who are 15 years part their prime, like I am.

I want to fit in though, so I have been on the hunt for something okay to wear. There is a lot of cheap and tacky looking in the club wear section on the internetz, take my word for it. I have picked some things that I hope to sweet Jesus are not horrid or won't be horrid in the dark-- and after all, I don't know those people so what the hell do I care if I look like a damn fool? I don't. And I realize that you already know that since I go to work in running pants and stained t-shirts every day, but this is different--this is me trying not to embarrass everyone else.

Poor Amy having to tote me around like the retarded cousin that regular people keep in the attic. She just keeps doing it though. I think there is something wrong with her. Well, I know there is.

I am so psyched about this. There is not much more fun to be had in the world than things that I do with Amy--even when she tries to kill me like the 34 mile bike ride/bar crawl she took me on with her MBA class several years ago. I really did not think I was going to live through that one. Not only did she make me ride a bike, but I almost got my ass kicked at Sharkeez for knocking someone's drink off the table and it might have been one of those chics from the first Bachelor that did it. Not only that, but we quit being able to differentiate between our paper money and had to use a credit card to pay our bar tab, which to me (at the time) was as obscene as putting groceries on the credit card. I am over that now, I no longer have any standards.

My point is, you all better get all you want of me between now and Feb 5, as I may not live through this trip.