The new column in the new Stranger....

Note to my Dear Readers: yes, I'm aware that there was recently a snarky letter to the editor about me in The Stranger. It would be nice if everyone thought I was wonderful all the time, but unfortunately, that's not how things work. And I learned long ago that if you're going to live your life in the public eye (even in a small way), then you better develop a thick skin.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion. If you'd like to offer yours - about my column, or anything else - to The Stranger, I'm sure they'd be pleased to hear from you: Editor@thestranger.com

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More Notes From Las Vegas

The Cher show? Was great. In addition to the (more or less) live songs, she included a lot of video clips from the old Sonny & Cher variety show, and it was a delightful reminder of the fact that Cher's been doing this gig since I was just a tot. Which I still am, compared to Cher. And damn, I hope I look as good as she does when I'm in my sixties. (I don't care that she's had surgery. If you look good, it doesn't matter to me how you brought that about, I'm on board with it.)

Afterward Elvis and I went dancing at this club in Caesar's, called Cleopatra's Barge, and one of the songs they played was - oh my god - Abba. Seriously. Dancing Queen, to be specific. The DJ had this seventies-riffic theme he was on, and he was into it.

So we were laughing and dancing to Abba, and suddenly I had a almost painfully vivid memory of my sophomore year of high school. You see, I was in the jazz chorus, and we sang Dancing Queen. Really. I'm not kidding. Six little Catholic high school girls, warbling "You're a tease and you turn him on - leave him burning, and then you're goooooooooone". Sounds more like someone being given a case of the clap than a romance, but hey, maybe it's a Swedish thing.

As I danced, I remembered - with a slight inward wince - performing that song. Badly, I'm sure. In those tacky little outfits that we wore. That our mothers had to make for us. Lordy.

Then the visceral intensity of the memory passed, and I was back in Vegas, in the now. Wearing my favorite white Herve Leger dress, stiletto heels, and all my bling, drinking champagne, and getting into mischief. Quite a difference, to put it mildly. If you had said to that fifteen-year-old girl, "Hey, when you're a grown-up, here's what your life will look like..." Well, I have no idea how that girl would have reacted. With disbelief, probably.

It's so strange how we get from one place to another in our lives. But I love my life. Yeah, I really do.

Well, here I am in Vegas. I haven't been here since my ill-fated wedding here in 1999. I've actually only been here once before that, so I am not a Vegas expert. Thus, I gawked like a rube as we drove down the Strip.

I had forgotten how surreal casinos are, how Disney-esque. It's easy to just step out of your life into this non-real world. (Which is exactly what they want you to do, of course.)

Musing on that, I thought to myself, I wish I could afford a kink equivalent of this. An dungeon space that's just so encompassing, so perfect, and so other-world-ish that you'd forget there was anything else. I've seen a few spaces like that. There used to be a place down in Atlanta run by two gay men. The Sanctuary, I think it was called? That place was amazing. And I don't even though how much money, and work, it must have cost to create. A lot, that's all. It's gone now.

But then I thought about it some more, and actually I changed my mind. Naturally I like having a pretty place to play with people, nice dungeon furniture, et cetera. But I like it better that the power I have to make the world go away for a little while is in me. Not my toys, my furniture, my decor, or anything material thing. But in my eyes, my voice, and my touch.

That way, I can go wherever I like, and make a little magic happen for whomever I'm with.

Wow, it's hot.

But as fate would have it, I'm about to go someplace even hotter. No, I don't mean Hell. (Although if that place actually existed, I have no doubt that once I arrived there, I'd be given a corner office. After all, to quote Motley Crue, "The Devil is a friend of mine...")

No, I'm going to Las Vegas for a few days, with a man who I think I will dub - Elvis. I haven't been on a trip with Elvis before, so this will be an adventure for us both. I think it's going to be big fun. We're staying at Caesar's Palace, in one of the new towers, and we have tickets to what looks like a completely fabulous show, and I imagine there will be much wining and dining and gambling.

I'm also looking forward to checking out one of the "European-style" pools at Caesar's. (Meaning: women can go topless!) I don't care if it's 105 degrees, as long as I have a drink with an umbrella in it and the cabana boy comes by and mists me every little while, I'll be very happy. I'll take pictures and post them to the Flickr stream.

I'm off early Monday and I'm back late on Wednesday, so getting me on the phone those days will be tricky. I will be checking email, of course, and I'll try to respond to messages as quickly as I can.

So if you hear about an Elvis sighting in Sin City in the next few days, think of me.