What Happens In A 27-Hour Trip To Vegas, Part 2.

Does this girl look tired? She is. But in a totally different way than she’s been tired in the past six years.
(In other news: flamingoes! At the Flamingo Hotel!)

I asked P.J. if we could get an annulment on the grounds that
we hadn’t been properly married in a Las Vegas chapel. He said no. (AGAIN.)
Because apparently that’s not a legit Catholic thing to say or do.

Pop Pin, meet Paris.

So, this game was called the Golden Goddess and I spent a little bit too much time getting to know her. At one point I was up a crazy amount (of pennies) and then I lost pretty much all of it. Fun fact: I am not usually Oompa Loompa orange.
Another fun fact: I cannot tell you what time of day or night it is in this picture.)

This is what the Golden Goddess left me. Ten cents. GO AHEAD AND MOCK, P.J.

This chick was just sort of levitating as I walked past, contemplating where to eat my next unwisely large meal. (This photo acts as a placeholder for all of the street performers we saw, including Cookie Monster, a guy with giraffe balloon animals on his head, and a weirdly threatening Spiderman.

Yes, I know it’s a Starbucks sign. Still wanna paint it on my kitchen wall.

This was the ceiling of the Bellagio, complete with 2k square feet of blown glass flowers. And BOY, if you thought P.J. said no to the my house upgrades BEFORE…

Forgive the pano. It’s just that it was getting dusky and the Bellagio fountains
were starting and I was feeling all Ocean’s Eleven…

P.J.’s Mom gave him this dollar to gamble. We totally lost one hundred percent of that dollar.
(Sorry, Nat Nat.)

We had dinner at Mon Ami Gabi, at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. It just happened to have a terrace with a view of
the Bellagio fountains and we just happened to score a table right next to the street which, if you know me and my
intense love of sitting in cafe windows, THIS IS A GAZILLION TIMES BETTER.

P.J., show the nice people your steak frites.

Pano from the terrace. I really need to be stopped.

One final surprise before we jetted back to the airport: Cirque du Soleil’s (and the Beatles’) LOVE at The Mirage! So obviously I had to get Jasper this lunchbox.

Holy moly, this show was a religious experience.

At one point we were actually gripping each other (okay, maybe it was a little one-sided)
at the artistry and music and performers and fearlessness and and and…

Thanks for ruining my awesome shot, Guy With The Random Hand.
We both agreed that LOVE broke our eyeballs and we were incapable of looking at anything else until we landed back in Chicago. The fact that our flight was at 1:30am might’ve had something to do with it, too.