It's Friday, December 20, at about 5:18 in the afternoon. I'm hungry. I just took 71 pictures at the Getty. I'm sleepy. I have a runny nose. The house is empty and cold. I have laundry to do. I have the GRE to study for. I have Christmas presents to buy, Christmas cards to write, and Christmas presents to wrap.

You're dead inside. There are so many things about you that only I understand, because it's me. But there are so many things inside you that I never will understand, because it's me.

So just to make this as disjoint as possible, who wants to hear my Vegas story? It's too long for me to write here, but I'll give you a hint: Rain, getting into a private party for free, winning $135, my lucky dealer Shawn, Studio 54, the thong, salsa lessons, and my bargain jacket.