Just got to Vegas - my buddy from work immediately went to a Poker Tournament, after we spent all flight doing excited Borat imitations about how much fun we'll have ("Niiiice!") . . . but I always forget that this place is a trip but not really my bag. I'm not really in a bachelor party mood most of the time. Just had a nice sandwich and drink and retired to my room at the very top of the Sahara. Nice up here, drinking a Drambuie or however the ass that's spelled, and listening to Eels and Grandaddy and the like on this mix I made for that girl in SF - that infatuation hit me like a ton of bricks and then moved on like the fog - but that's because she got into a bit of a relationship with someone and so to pine for someone like that is just silly, she ain't gonna love ya back. Anyway, the view out my window here is a trip - right now I'm looking out onto a lit up Riviera, on the grungy north side of The Strip, and a brilliant GbV song just came on ("Drag Days"), thank God for my ipod and portable round speaker which I take with me everywhere. There are some really loud frat brothers partying down the hall from me, and every once in a while more will come down the hall loud as fuck. I could try to do something crazy, like the old Same Suit Sam, but I'll try to just do nothing and go to sleep, like the new Same Suit Sam is trying to be... Will discuss Vegas more tomorrow.