All That Glitters (Is Not Gold)

I blame Eric for this.

We had just finished a romantic dinner of homemade vegetarian Thai food when my sweet and oh-so-cute boyfriend of one whole month took me by the hand, gazed into my eyes, and uttered sixteen unforgettable words. “How would you feel if I went to Las Vegas for five weeks to play poker.” This bombshell was promptly followed by, “Tell me the truth.” Clearly, this was neither the time nor the place for honesty. I smiled through my gritted teeth and told him that it was imperative that he go, that the timing could not be better, and that I was so very, very excited on his behalf. Obviously, he totally bought it.

Before I met Eric, my entire knowledge of poker came from watching late-night tournaments on the Travel network and the excellent remake of Ocean’s 11. Thanks to Brad Pitt, I can tell you that the first rule of poker is to leave emotion at the door (that’s right, Topher). But as the captive audience for most of Eric’s big fish stories, I now realize that I would have to go back to school and get a degree in statistics with an emphasis in John Nash-ian game theory to play with any proficiency at all.

Suffice to say, a round-trip JetBlue ticket to Las Vegas went a long way to remove the sting of involuntarily giving up my boyfriend for Lent. While I’m here, Eric is kindly refraining from poker, and since he has no update, he’s asked me to be the Blogger Du Jour.

So, in lieu of a Hand of the Day, here’s my Ham of the Day:

If Vegas has an unofficial mascot, surely it is the allegedly late but unquestionably great Elvis Presley. Vegas without Elvis would be like Disneyland without The Mouse or Canter’s Deli without Rodney Bingenheimer. So when I found out that Elvis’s 400 pound lovechild, Pete “Big Elvis” Vallee performs daily at the lounge in the Barbary Coast for free, I knew I had to drag Eric, kicking and screaming though he might be, to see him. The act was everything you would expect from a [cough, cough] classic Vegas institution like the B.C. I urge you to go see the Son of Elvis before he drops dead of the massive coronary explosion that will most certainly hit his heart like a hunk, a hunk o’ burning love.

In honor of these two great men, today’s title is taken from a song by a band that changed its name when threatened by a lawsuit by the Elvis estate. Be the first one to post the name of the band and the name of the album that “All That Glitters” appeared on, and I’ll send you one whole dollar.

Stay fabulous, everyone.