Does this beard make me look fat

Saturday, August 21, 2010

The fact that Sheryl Crow wrote the most accurate account of how and why to leave Las Vegas is very frustrating in that she sucks

I know I told you I was leaving before. I know there's been other women with more promising prospects and yet I stayed with you. There was Austin, with her beautiful, eccentric oasis nestled in the country's largest state of Toby Keith fans and gun collectors. Austin even introduced me to an ice cream shop that combines ginger snaps with vanilla ice cream which given the right combination of disregard for my pants size and quality of life could easily lead to my turning into a big fat fuck. But no, I told Austin that my one true love, the chocolate in my pudding, the yin to my yang, the Chico to my man was Las Vegas. Then there was Denver. Denver is a little different from Austin as she's a mountain girl with conservative views who's more or less know for the shitty beer manufactured in her region. But Denver has hosted four of the Wilco shows I've seen, two of which were at the famous Fillmore. I know what you're thinking Las Vegas, get to the point Freteluco. All right you hussy harlot of a woman you, Las Vegas. My new woman is Portland. I spent some time with her, and I think this time its real. She just gets me. She knows that what I need most in my life is to live in the same town as Peter Buck and a doughnut shop that sells doughnuts with names like the Ol' Dirty Bastard and the Cock N Balls. She feels my desire to go from microwave-like temperatures to endless torrents of rain. She recognizes the void that existed in my life prior to consuming a grilled cheese sandwich on a converted school bus whilst listening to Lauryn Hill's debut cd. She says I'm not meant to be with a woman that has only Carrot Top and two dollar steak and eggs at 3 a.m. to offer me. I told Portland I loved her then I queued up the Talking Heads' Remain In Light and we did our thing for five earth shaking minutes. She asked me what I want to do next and I looked into her eyes which yes, are heavily overcast but clear up later in the day, and I told her she's the one for me and I will live with her upon graduation. She inquired as to whether or not I could live with both her rain and quality coffee but before she could finish I started to sing her my favorite Sheryl Crow song, albeit not in key, but damn if I didn't belt out that song.


Heather G said...

Dear Las Vegas,
I don't think I miss you that much. It's been 10 years and the paranoia that surrounds me when I come back to you annoys me to no end. I think it is part of being born and raised somewhere, and worrying about bumping into people I can't be bothered to keep in touch with. Heck, until I moved away, I pretty much lived on the same street and saw the same people since kindergarten.
People think growing up in Las Vegas is romantic and fantastic, but where else would someone get a boob job for graduation?
We've been separated for a long time, and sometimes I wish I never had to go back to you and your traffic jams, fancy cars, and all night buffets.
I love my Minneapolis with its weather and its bike paths, and its theatre and fringe festivals and funny accents. There's a part of me that thinks I love New Orleans because it takes me back to the kitchsy-tourist type life of Las Vegas (though not like residents live that lifestyle in either LV or NOLA), but I wasn't raised there so I guess I feel kind of allowed to enjoy the loud music, mardi gras beads and drunk people in ways I never could in LV.
And every time I hear that fucking Sheryl Crow song I think to myself, "Ha, I left you, you bitch."

luke said...

Good golly Miss Molly, look at us. Two jilted lovers, one former and one current, of the irredeemable Las Vegas. I shake my fist at her and sing Papa's Got A New Bag. She just laughs. Her laugh is a mix of the sound of quarters hitting the metal tray at the bottom of a slot machine and a cocktail waitress screaming "Cocktails???" like a little girl, ok, a barely dressed booty hanging out little girl looking for a lost puppy. Or is it just me?