Out of the Office (Automated Reply)

For what it's worth, I'm sorry I haven't posted in a fortnight or so. Blogging just isn't the same when you're in the Caesar's Palace Business Center and you're worried the guy next to you is going to read your entry. It's funny how I'm willing to post online for all the world to see, yet I feel like my Business Center neighbor here is completely violating my privacy every time he turns his head. I keep wishing I had an old school Trapper Keeper to wrap around this monitor a la third grade test-taking so he couldn't read over my shoulder. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

So I've been in Vegas for the past week+, and will be for many weeks more, for the Trial of the Millenium. Alright, only a handful of people really care about this trial, but I happen to be one of them and let's just say it hasn't been a cake walk so far. The greuling sixteen-hour workdays and workweekends have been further complicated by a myriad of technical difficulties, including a general lack of internet and remote desktop access, but I'll spare you the boring details. Just forgive me if I haven't returned your last 20 emails or missed your daughter's birthday or if you live in Vegas but I don't get a chance to see or talk to you.

When I was little, I always wanted to live at Disneyland. More specifically, I wanted to rent a little studio apartment above one of the shops on Main Street, although New Orleans Square would have been acceptable as well. Main Street seemed like a nice neighborhood with lots of conveniences: good public transportation (via trolley or horse-drawn carriage), ample ice cream and candy supply, ability to watch nightly parades from one's own home, Space Mountain adjacent, etc.

I thought living in a Vegas hotel-casino for a month would sort of be like living at Disneyland. In a way, it is--both venues are evidence that mankind knows no bounds when it comes to building with Plaster of Paris. When you're working long days like I am, it's also nice to be in a place that refuses to recognize what the rest of the world knows as "time"--even if you get off work at 10:00 p.m. you can do a little shopping and people-watching. Even in the middle of the night there is quite the selection of overpriced food available. I'm not the gambling type, but if I were, I think I would never sleep.

But after a week of both witnessing and indulging in such excesses, I am ready to sue the Vegas Tourism Bureau for false advertising. I seriously doubt the 200 lbs. I have put on already are going to "stay in Vegas" when I leave. I'm afraid I'm also back on the Diet Coke wagon after some 415 days of caffeinated beverage sobriety. At the end of the day, the Strip is like Disneyland, but only one part: the Island of Lost Boys on the Pinnochio ride. I'm growing donkey ears already.

Vegas has also turned me into a bigger liar than usual. For instance, my boss, who is an accomplished and respectable older man, has never really come terms with the electronic age. One time, I heard him offer a file clerk at our office an "old computer" that he found. He said the clerk could have it because he bought a new one. Both the clerk and I were suspicious of this offer, as neither of us has known our boss to own or use a computer. Sure enough, the boss produced a classic '82 HP leather-bound calculator and gave it to the clerk, who had to feign great appreciation for the gifted "computer" before sneaking it into the trash.

Of late, I have been exploiting this generational gap, and I believe it's all Vegas's fault. Last night we finished work and the boss asked me and the paralegal to joint him for yet another gluttonous and lengthy sit-down dinner. The paralegal bowed out because her brother was going to be in town for one night only, which put me on the spot. I was tired and wasn't in the mood for another Mt. Everest heaping of crab legs. I wanted to have a simple food court meal where the "crab" is shelled and made of liquid cod parts poured into a mould. Suffice it to say, the rest of the conversation went like this:

Me: I'm sorry, I can't go. I have to go down to the Business Center and send this urgent email to So and So back at the office.

Boss: I can wait for you. How long does it take to send an email?

Me: Well, since it has to go clear to Los Angeles, it will probably take about an hour and a half.

Boss: In that case, I'll just go eat alone.

I'm not kidding. Vegas made me do it. That said, I don't want to offend any of my five-odd friends who live in Vegas. I realize the rest of the place is much different than the Strip.

So, the point of all of this was to say that I won't be posting for awhile. And I'm sad to say I won't be riding my Vespa either, which is (hopefully) parked back at my apartment in Los Angeles. But I did finally get word that my much anticipated yet heavily back-ordered new helmet will be waiting for me when I get back!

In my absence, I would suggest visiting one of the blogs linked on the right, or one of the following, which I keep meaning to add links to but haven't gotten around to it:

Simple Happy Home (Mary Ess's blog)
Steffarocks in Spain (SIL's blog)
Tammy Faye Fan Club
Glamma Fabulous
Flowerchain

And if you're still with me, I just want to apologize and say that the Caesar's Palace Business Center is not very conducive to blog editing, what with the NOSY neighbors and all. So apologies for all the randomness above.