The 30-Day Hangover

I just finished watching The Hangover, which is something I had promised myself I would never do. But I was feeling a little nostalgic for Vegas, if one can feel nostalgia for a month ago.

I have determined two things.

1) Bradley Cooper is, in fact, ridiculously good looking.

2) The Suz and I did not take maximum advantage of Las Vegas. Nobody stole a police car. Nobody married a hooker. Nobody stole any wildlife of any kind. Nobody ended up in the trunk of any sort of vehicle.

Even in our younger heyday, I don't think we could have pulled off madness even close to the kind that Hollywood cranked out in this movie. I think the best The Suz and I could have hoped for would have been entering into some kind of altercation which would have began with me saying to a total stranger, "You don't have the stones!"

But we did see Elvis. We saw Elvis a lot. Elvis, in the words of that great philosopher, Mojo Nixon, is, in fact, everywhere.

He's on the sidewalk:

He's in the wax museum. And he's interactive:

He's in the gift shop. And he looks like Bill Compton:

He's in the casino bar, and he's mixing cocktails:

I guess there are some names that are embedded with a kind of destiny. For instance, if you name your daughter Destiny, there's a good chance she's going to end up working in clear heels. If you name your kid Elvis he's got a good chance of becoming a bartender in Las Vegas.

Or he becomes this guy:

Which is okay, as long as he doesn't become this guy: