Tenure*

Honestly, who wouldn't remarry a man who'd wear trousers like these?



















My feathery top was a pale rejoinder.

The definite highlight of the trip was renewing our vows in the cheesy Little White Chapel of Vegas. It was sort of fitting too, as we'd originally got married in the Little Red Chapel in Pannal.

Not at all similar though. Oh no! I was expecting Vegas kitsch, but it was just Vegas tired and cheap. Worn-out carpet, dusty faded silk flowers, papier-mache cherubs, you get the picture. Very polyester bride. What was a little scary was that it was past 8 o'clock at night, we were, 'casually' attired, not a little drunk after waiting for our 'slot' at the bar next door, and we had a bored and hungry two-year old running around, yet were asked repeatedly if this was a renewal or an actual wedding.

I think the Little White Chapel should have a web-cam, because clearly, they see it all.























Leave it to LK to bring the class though. He managed to go down on one knee in his too-tight, borrowed Vegas-casino-carpet trousers, and he re-proposed and produced a Tiffany ring.

What a keeper.

Then we went back to the Mirage and tore it up K style by drinking three bottles of champagne and doing fat lines of coke.

Or we may have just drunk champagne, had take-out from the Carnegie deli (see below) and watched Blades of Glory. You be the judge.












Oh you Americans.....why you're not all ridiculously overweight is just beyond me.























Definite thanks go to Red Fox and to Cindy for our fantastic anniversary present. I'm glad we have photographic evidence that the booze came with chocolate-covered strawberries, because frankly, neither LK or I remember eating a single one. Hmm.









































5lbs of chocolate-covered strawberries can seriously affect the waistline, as our little Paris Hilton discovered to her horror the next morning.........



























That's all for now. Next installment - When Good Vacations Go Bad.

* I shamelessly ripped off the title of the post from Mrs. Skeletor, who, if she has a problem with that, can get her own damn blog.

Which, is rather unlikely, as she can't operate comments.

Thank goodness.