In Vegas

Mini road trip time, folks. Though I'm not really sure what differentiates a mini- from a genuine road trip. Mosquitos, maybe.

Anyway, Jeff and I drove to Las Vegas yesterday, enjoying a nice, leisurely, conversation-filled drive. We stopped and watched most of a soccer game, and Jeff put on his entire Journey playlist, which gave me more pleasure than I'll ever admit, even to you, dear friend.

Now, we're staying at the Renaissance Hotel right off the Strip, which is decked out like the Rat Pack just flew into town. I like Vegas. It's cool to be here as a bona fide grown-up, and with Jeff's Spock-like mind, I figured we could clean up at the Blackjack tables, but he seems hesitant to go gambling with me. Part of the reason was that he wanted to be up at the undogly hour of 6:30 to watch the U.S. play Slovenia at the World Cup (even though the bleeding game didn't start until seven).

Jeff's a big futbol fan, and despite my attempts to sleep through the game, I too had to perk up and watch what ultimately was ruled as a 2-2 tie game, despite the U.S. team making three valid goals in the second half.

It looks beautiful out our huge, golf course-viewing window. Jeff and I are friends somehow, despite the fact that he despises the heat as much as I loathe the cold, and Vegas is infamous for its heat. I'd love to be out walking around, trying to add some color to my pasty dead-fish-white skin, but now England is playing Algeria (0-0 right now), so it might be a while before the sun touches me.

Well, I shan't complain, since he's the one paying for the internet here. He tends to pay for most things in our friendship. It's sad, really. Hopefully he won't wise up anytime soon.

Rish "Freeloader" Outfield