LAS VEGAS, NEVADA -- Holy fuck, is it ever hot in Las Vegas in July.
Like you-could-fry-an-egg-between-your-tits hot. But it's a dry heat, as everyone says. It's dry, and for some reason that does make it somewhat more bearable -- on the hair anyway. God, my hair looked good in Vegas.
I'm not going to lie to you -- I did not want to leave Toronto. My life exploded about two hours before I had to be at the airport, and since I'd spent the past year with my life exploded while on planes, in airports and faraway places (I am now an expert at bawling my face off in foreign cities), I was kind of flipping out. Being triggered, as the womenfolk say. But I got on the damn plane. Because, come hell or high lesbian drama, I had to get to a hooker convention in Sin City.