How I've missed you all!

  by Stacy Riedel

I write this from my Day-Quil induced blur. Thank goodness for Day-Quil, by the way, because it's kind of like time traveling back to when I was 21 and in college and- Mom, plug your ears- misbehaving. My throat is thick and chalky but gooey all at once, my head kind of feels goofy and my stomach a little tight, like I have a six pack but only on the inside of my stomach. This flu has made my body weak and droopy, flaccid, if you will. Anyone at work knows I try to jazz it up in the style department, and yet today I did the unthinkable. I wore sneakers. IN PUBLIC. Trust me, this is a big deal. If it weren't for being completely high on cold medicine all day I would probably be a little disturbed by this, but instead I reveled in it and whenever asked "ARE THOSE TENNIS SHOES, STACY RIEDEL??!" I would kick a leg high into the air like I was my own contagious cabaret act. I'm like a mucousy Pussycat Doll.

Now I'm exhausted. I've been trying all week to sit down in front of this computer and talk Vegas to you, because there really is so much to discuss. Monday my flight home was delayed due to inclement weather (Las Vegas by contrast was quite clement), and so I didn't even make it into my own bed until after one a.m., and then I lay there like a crackhead for two more hours until my Vegas party-clock caught up to my Milwaukee toilet-salesperson-clock. Tuesday night I was so sleepy from the night before, I unpacked just my dirty laundry (and I do mean dirty, ow!) and then passed out while Steve played X-Box. Last night the flu hit me, so that means I drove home early from work, stripped down to nothing (I'll give you a minute to imagine that, your welcome) and then slept for 18 hours straight. So that leaves today, with no excuses left, so I'll give you the most brief rundown I can manage of the many glorious moments of my trip home to sunny Las Vegas.

1. Landed, too scared to tell my mom I'm not eating turkey so ate it anyway, watched home videos of mostly just my dogs then and now, Damien opened birthday gifts (hated mine), family, family, family, conked out earlyish.
2. Friday! A little light shopping with Mom and Dad, pointed out laptop I want so I can "make my own porn!" (Dad thought it was funny anyway), nice long nap, cocktails with Danielle and nice young Englishman (shout-out!) in a nondescript hotel bar, many Southern Comfort Sidecars, complete loss of time like a schizo lady.
3. Woke up in clothes with my shoes on, belt buckled, bra still on, hair ENORMOUS a la Marge Simpson, luxurious massage with Danielle at clothing optional spa (yesss!), lunch, nap, nap, nap, sushi with Leeney- "we no serve skinny jean here!"- one inch from backing into a cop, escaped a ticket (I have boobs), THE BELL BIV DEVOE CONCERT (only a little embarrassed we went to that)more SoCo Sidecars at the Palms, talked to drunk Jenn for five minutes, off to house par-tay (people have those still?), complete blackout.
4. Woke again completely dressed, skirt around my waist so my control top tights were exposed for all to see on Danielle's couch, boots still on but unzipped, hair EVEN BIGGER. Nap, nap, nap, nap, cooked Cajun for the family, convinced Jess to move to the Midwest (my plan is working), off to bed without any booze forcing me there. I'm growing up!
5. DMV (how come with the high proportion of attractive people in Las Vegas NONE of them are in the DMV? The no-teeth to teeth ratio is 3:1 there), shopping with Mom, lunch with Mom, fight with Mom (I won), Dad's second graders yelling "Dance, Monkey, Dance!" in unison as I walk in the door, plane two hours late, plane tiny, plane's free XM radio on the fritz and therefore my only entertainment was an old lady with far too much interest in me, plane landed safely despite ice and 20 degree weather. 

And breathe! This is about it. I would have actual photos taken on the trip splayed all over the place with hilarious tag-lines, but since my real camera died, I had to use a disposable camera the entire week. Sure, it made me feel 18 again, but it also made me feel ridiculous again what with all the winding up and flash-button pressing I had to do the whole time. It was like a step back into history. Another time machine was Mom's computer, which was less a computer and more a hamster-driven black and white television set. Every time I would spend more than 30 minutes writing on it, the damn thing would either shut down on its own or start smoking from the back. It wasn't my choice to neglect my Wishboners. It was Mom's shitbox.

I'm home now. It was 11 degrees when I left the house for work this morning. My snot froze instantly just like on The Day After Tomorrow. My doggies refuse to piss outside, so you know what that means. They piss on my suitcase. I'm flu-y, behind in work, and harboring turkey weight. But you know what? It's really good to be home. Vegas has its charms, but it's got nothing on Milwaukee. It's like Vegas is a high-five from a stranger, Milwaukee is great big ol' bear hug from your best buddy. Vegas is light beer, Milwaukee is a Guinness.

Then again, Milwaukee is a mildly cute girl who can tell a good joke, while Vegas is that obscenely hot chick who can tie a cherry stem with her tongue, so...