unsurprisingly, the search for sincerity in vegas is unfulfilling

just got back from our annual monkeyboy reunion in vegas. much fun was had, none of which i can clearly explain.

this year we opted to stay downtown at the golden nugget. which was both as crappy and less crappy than you’d expect. the suite that we hung out in was suprisingly nice, but all the restaurants in this part of vegas are painful. i think the only good meal i had nearby was the almost dozen krispy kremes we got. (hick note: didja know that it’s the only place to get dr. pepper in vegas? now that’s a documentary that needs to be made.)

i’m not sure how much i can really summarize. there was a lot of good catching up, we watched michigan get beat up and then finally beat up on state, we ate a good but ultimately disappointing meal at stripsteak, and we went and saw spamalot.

interesting that this is the first year that everyone of us is now married, and furthermore, the majority of us now have kids. i might have tipped us over that scale— thanks snapper! speaking of which, i did miss her dearly. not to say that i didn’t want to be there, but i couldn’t help thinking about snapper waking up in the morning, and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g the way she does before she figures out she’s awake and hungry and starts crying.

this is quite unlike the calisthenics the strippers do on the poles, not that i saw anything like that. but i was DAMNED if i was going to let that free daylight savings hour go to waste on just sleeping or some shit like that. it’s an FREE HOUR OF STRIPPERS! you can’t waste opportunities like that. i mean, there are bettie pages to be seen. and swedish daft punk twins. hypothetically speaking, of course.