Last night was the pre-wedding pizza party, which was fun. And a little awkward, since one of Kris’s bridesmaids is a former friend of mine who I don’t speak to anymore. I mean, we did the “half-second eye contact and nod at each other” thing, and then we spent the rest of the evening making a conscious effort to avoid each other. Luckily the way we were seated helped, but it was kind of strange trying to avoid turning my head to the right because I didn’t want to have to try to make civil conversation with someone I genuinely dislike.

Really, it’s my fault. Our falling out was three years ago. I should be over it by now, I know that. And I know she wants to forget about it, because that’s her personality, to gloss over all of the bad stuff and to pretend like everything is fine and happy and wonderful. I just can’t do it. I can’t let it go when someone hurts me.

Anyway, since that was incredibly uncomfortable, I really wanted a cocktail to help me relax. But the pizza place only had wine and beer, so I stuck to water. After the pizza party ended, I hung out with my friend Linda and her husband Taiki, and some of their friends. We found a place that served fruity vodka drinks, which is what I’d been craving. We had fun playing “hooker or tourist,” the game in which you spot all of the whorishly dressed women and guess if they’re actual hookers or just tourists. Sadly, most were tourists. The hookers are hard to spot because they’re always in a hurry. You know, places to go, people to do, what-have-you.

I had a great time hanging out with them, I think is what I’m saying. And Linda’s friends are awesome, because I didn’t pay for a thing all night. Very nice.

I got little bit tipsier than I meant to, but I wasn’t falling-down drunk or anything. I feel fine today, so obviously I couldn’t have been that bad, right? I’m just mad as hell that I woke up at 7:45 a.m. on the one day that I could sleep late with no kid around to wake me up. Stupid internal clock. Since sleep wasn’t going to happen, I threw on my jeans and sneakers and headed down to the breakfast buffet. Which reminds me…

Dear Luxor,
I realize that my gastric bypass surgery makes an all-you-can-eat buffet kind of pointless for me, but if you’re going to charge me $20, I’m going to make up for it by eating the most expensive stuff you have. Shrimp cocktail for breakfast? Why yes, thank you.
Also, it appears that part of the reason that the buffet costs $20 is because it comes with free champagne? At 8 in the freaking morning?? Ok, you win. This town is way too hardcore for me.
Love,
Cindy

Oh, and while I’m writing letters:

Dear lungs,
I’m really, really sorry about that clove cigarette I smoked last night. What can I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Please stop trying to kill me. Truce?
Love,
Cindy

My plan for today is to try to take a nap, then get dressed and set off for the wedding. Pretty easy, no? The Luxor has an exhibition of Titanic artifacts, which sounds fascinating. I thought about going to check it out since it’s just downstairs, but admission is $27, and this town is bleeding me of enough money as it is. I think a nap sounds infinitely better.

Also, I had my camera in my purse last night and completely forgot to take even a single photo. I’ll try to be better about that at the wedding tonight.