You say it's your birthday

I'm back home and it's four o'clock in the afternoon but it feels like midnight, which is to say, I had a really great trip.

I like the Vegas and gee, it really seems to like me too.

As do the Lakers who played a splendid game against the Suns. Seeing the new team was like an introduction to friends of an old friend, as is in, 'Oh hey Kob, who'sthat tall guy playing center for you? Hmm...Mimm, he seems alright. And gosh, it's nice to finally meet Odom. And did I hear there is a Sacha on the team now? Gotta like that. Great to see Luuuuuuke and Cook and that Bobbit kid is shooting pretty good.'

Confession, not everybody liked me on the trip. Paris Hilton for instance. I wouldn't let her have my choice table Saturday night despite that big smile and bright eyes she repeatedly gave me. I even got a flirty flip of the blonde extensions. I wasn't so charmed so the smile turned into a frown and a glare. Whatever. I figure she usually gets what she wants so I was practically obligated to deny her something. Know what I mean? Or, I guess that was really it, I was just being mean. Tsk, tsk. And usuallyI'm such a sweetheart.

So, um, it was Ed's birthday yesterday and I didn't write and I didn't call and I feel like the bad step-child (and well, I guess over the years, there were times when I was his bad step-child). Maybe Ed reads this? Hope you had a happy one (and I'll understand if you don't write or call me on Thursday).