Viva Las Vegas

I got my groove back, so to speak, in Las Vegas. My tolerance for alcohol and I were reunited. It was a joyous occasion. Tolerance certainly does include black outs. Tolerance to alcohol as defined by Jackie means the room is not spinning and I am not vomiting everywhere. Blacking out is perfectly acceptable, and actually preferred. When I black out I am still in motion, it's just like someone turned off the recorder. It's a very drunk, loud, out of control motion, but definitely motion.

Rosie and I managed to get cut off from a bar in Las Vegas and kicked out of the MGM Grand because I was black out drunk. I didn't even know you could get kicked out of a bar in Las Vegas. I don't think I was even too out of control... while I was still sitting at the bar. The second I stood up, it was all over. I fell into a slot machine and thought it was quite possibly the funniest thing ever.

I sat down on Las Vegas Blvd because I was laughing so hard I could not physically hold myself up any more. By the way, Las Vegas Blvd is quite possibly the dirtiest street in America. I'm sure I picked up an STD through my jeans.

Rosie made a decision to get food in me to try to sop up some of the booze. She took me to a food court with a Del Taco, bless her heart. I devoured a burrito like I hadn't eaten in a month. I also made a loud, laughing scene. So loud that Rosie took pictures of me:

She wasn't the only one who took pictures. A man behind me took pictures of the spectacle I was making. Rosie told me, "The Mexican Elvis behind you is photographing you." Well, I hated that idea and went on a drunk yelling rampage about how rude that was. I turned around and yelled at Mexican Elvis. It was a string of obscenities, but I got my point across. Rosie removed me from the food court as quickly as possible.

I'm glad Rosie was sober enough to handle me. She's a good friend to deal with me! I knew I'd be able to get my groove back sooner or later. It just took a weekend in Las Vegas to find it.