It's a serious slap in the face to come home from Vegas, where it was in the 60s, to Connecticut. Hell has officially frozen over and I'm living in it. Nevermind the fact that it snowed six inches last night, which made my 40-mile trip to work last a trecherous 2 1/2 hours, it's a balmy 10 degrees right now. Tonight it will be -5, with a wind chill between -25 and -30. That's just wrong.
If I wanted to live like an eskimo, I'd live in the Arctic.
Anyway, instead of complaining, I will say this last trip to Vegas may have been the best one yet. I had so much fun with Jen, Tanya and Brenda, glamming it up on the Strip and partying like Britney at the Ghostbar at The Palms, with porn stars, the hot laywer and Elvis Cow. I can't wait for those pictures.
It was so wonderful to see Adam, Beth and Nicole. They make me feel like I'm at home when I'm there. Nicole, thank you for just being there. (You know what I mean.) Beth, I am so happy I was there for your birthday and I'm so happy you remember that Connecticut will win (twice). We must. (Wow, I was really insistent and drunk at that point for you to remember that, huh?)
So as I stare at the snow outside and dread getting back in my huge down parka, I remind myself Vegas isn't so far away. And I'm doing everything in my power to be back less than a month from now. You guys rock.