Off We Go

into the wild blue yonder.  And then into the Heart of Darkness, Sin City.   Me and Lurlene.

We got a call from our new insect overlords our newest bestest buddy and big toe some nice marketing reps on behalf  of a big shot in the car biz.  The pitch:

  • you applied, you won, come to Vegas.
  • Your own private jet.
  • Car service (Whale level).
  • Presidential suite at the MGM.
  • $20 dollars to throw around on your choice of the “pop card” entertainers.
  • Tickets to CES.
  • Dinner with the big shots.

The fine print:

  • you gotta work – write some stuff about the CES.
  • We’ll tell you when you get here what we want.
  • “Pants are NOT OPTIONAL!!!!!”
  • Reports from the Clark County jail are not acceptable substitutes for actual blog/tweeters/tmblr dice/instamaticgram postings.  Not even OJ’s secret hidden confession.

Sounds great, right?  I have only two concerns:

  1. this is an elaborate sting.  I knew that free Ferrari for sticking some powdered sugar in my luggage offer  was too good to be true. Or,
  2. Willy Wonka is going to meet us at the departure terminal with a few choice words:

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