Today I drove in to Vegas with my valet, stopping at the Outpost in Dario Argento's Hesperia for some non-buffet grub. Arriving at length in the press area at the Sands, I suffered the humiliation of having to recite my real name to the temp at the folding table."His passport says RONNIE JAMES DIO," the horrible woman kept shouting. I'd show you a picture, but James Thurber is dead.
A woman was passing around lanyards.
"I will take a lanyard, please," I said.
Jesse Jane is now around my neck. That woman will never let me be.
Anyway, I got my press pass, which is slightly less substantive this year than in previous years. Apparently somebody got a deal on holograms. Apparently I only work for Fleshbot, too.
posted by Gram the Man
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Wednesday, January 04, 2006 
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