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ON THE ROAD

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We're traveling back from Vegas as only we and the rest of the great, unwashed American masses can--in coach, bitches.

So we didn't earn our own Caesar's tracksuit with our "high rolling" (read: massive, reckless gambling losses.) But we did accomplish the following in two days of activity here in the silicone heart of America:

--Put forty very frightening and inaccurate holes in a burglar who looked a lot like Paul Rudd with a SAW at The Gun Shop.

--Watched with simultaneous arousal and fear as TCOAN--who has never picked up a gun in her life--put forty shots off a Beretta submachine gun into the face of her target. We married Valerie Plame and didn't even know it. Must ask about this new "job..." (She is from Florida, thus should have a genetic talent for killing things dead.)

--Am still "up" as of this a.m., thanks to successfuly blackjack session at the glorious, filthy Casino Royale. The oxygen tank was free!

--Got remarried. (To the same woman, you cad.)

--Watched as Irishoutsider had a very, very bad finale to a disastrous weekend of wagering.

We'll be somewhere over you today, noting up the Phil Steele Preview and praying for the much-delayed invention of the flying car. Back in force tomorrow.