I'd like to care, but I'm going to the spa.

It's been getting harder and harder to focus the past couple of days, because Mile High Guy and I are going to Las Vegas on Friday for our two-year anniversary. We go to Vegas because that's where we pledged our troth before God and Elvis in 2005, and we enjoyed the place so much that we return to escape reality, be together, and party like rock stars for our anniversary weekend. I should go back briefly and say something again: yes, we got married in Las Vegas; and yes, we had an Elvis wedding. It was a supreme blast: we were pronounced hound dog and teddy bear and our family members with high-speed internet connections watched the whole thing on the chapel's webcam. We got married because it was important to us to have a legal binding contract of our emotional connection in case (God forbid) something happened to one of us. However, because we also think weddings are a billion-dollar bullshit industry, we got married in Vegas with Elvis and chose to have separate parties with our respective families after the fact. Airfare, wedding, Elvis' fee and tip, hotel, meals, and wedding rings totaled less than $5,000.

Damn right I'm bragging.

Anyway, the first time we went to Vegas, we stayed at Circus Circus. It used to be the shizznit in the '60s, but most folks will recognize it from the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, starring Johnny Depp as the eternally-intoxicated journalist Hunter S. Thompson. I'd like to state for the record that Circus Circus is best experienced while sniffing ether, not because we did so, but because the decor is so loud and surreal that it might have helped.

The next time, we decided to go a bit more upscale. We were trying to decide between all the nicer, newer resorts when I saw that the Venetian had a spa. Not just a spa, but a Spa. Oh, my bad, a SPA. The famous Canyon Ranch Spa (of Tucson AZ and Lenox MA) had a 69,000 sf outpost at the Venetian. My hospital, Wheatlands, is smaller than this spa, my chirren. I had to go. I booked an appointment with an exercise physiologist for a fitness assessment and a stone massage. I got great results with the assessment (which proved that all my hard work in the gym paid off), and I was so relaxed from the massage that I floated the rest of the weekend. Nice.

I've booked a bunch of spa appointments this year as well, and yes, I'm bragging again. Assessment, personal trainer session, stone massage, manicure, and pedicure. I'm gonna lay around in the marble steam room, relax with a cappucino whie watching the indoor gondolas float by and listen to the gondoliers (all trained opera singers) sing in perfect Italian, dine lavishly with Guy after he whips ass in his poker tournaments (he won $450 in one last year), and enjoy my time not being at work and not being worried.

Wanda was pretty quiet today, and everyone seemed like they were in a calmer mood. I'm going to Wheatlands with Howie tomorrow, which means a little over three hours each way in a car with my boss. But I can't say I care. I'm going to the spa.