1:00 AM
"--and mail the sperm to his wife."

Tim was just setting the alarm for the morning, and this was the first thing the blared out of the clock radio.

Anyway, time to bring you all up to date: when last I reported in, Human Head's Tim Gerritsen and I had just arrived at the Orleans Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, and I had just logged in and talked to you via CelTech (tm).

The next morning, we woke up and went down to grab some breakfast. I ordered some pancakes and orange juice, and Tim just juice. Apparently we looked thirsty, as they brought us each two glasses. Finished the pancakes, finished one glass of juice, and thought about sipping at the other--just to at least justify its existence--but decided not to bother.

Then we went up and wandered around talking to people while we waited for GAMA (the trade show for the Game Manufacturers' Association, a non-electronic games show) to open. Ran into my old friend Casey from D&D gaming back in college, now living in Arizona, and introduced Tim to a bunch of my friends and professional contacts in the industry. Then the floor opened and we went in to wander around; more gabbing with all sorts of folks (including promising my current manuscript to the publisher three weeks from now--hurray for self-imposed deadlines!), and the scoring of some free stuff (including great Batman and Spider-Man promo figures for WizKids upcoming HeroClix game) ensued.

By late afternoon we had done everything we came to the show to do, and took a shuttle bus down to the Strip. Having been in Vegas so recently with the Monkeyfans, everything had a strange familiarity. But I made a concerted effort to do some new exploring, and went deep into the shopping areas at the Venetian, saw as much of the Venetian Guggenheim as we could without paying, wandered down past the Mirage and watched some sort of music video shoot being set up, and ended up at the Bellagio, where I finally saw the famous dancing waters. They were okay.

Then it was a cab back to the Orleans. Tim and I had a late dinner with RPG freelance superstar Matt Forbeck, and the waiter brought Tim and I each two glasses of the drink we ordered. (And no, it wasn't the same waiter.) As an experiment, I answered the question set by the Monkeyfans a month previous: the staff of the buffet do nothing if you walk away from the desert cart with an entire cake. I had two pieces, then made sure the rest was consumed by those at my and nearby tables.

After that, Tim wanted to sleep. I wanted to do some writing (remember that deadline?) but didn't want to bother Tim, so I grabbed my satchel and laptop, and headed down to the casino. I knew they'd never let me set up at an empty poker table or anything, but I did manage to find an empty table at one of the casino's closed restaurants where I set up my laptop and got to work. I got a few strange looks from security guards, but I made sure to set up so it was easy for them to walk by and see that I had nothing other than Word open. So there, in the place that defines distraction and cacophony, I stayed up until two in the morning and managed to write almost two thousand more words. (I'm as amazed as you are.)

Finally, the cleaning crew was coming around to clean up the closed restautant, so I packed up, helped stack chairs, and made my way back to the room. Got waylaid by Matt Forbeck and a group of industry folk--Steve Jackson, Ken Hite, John Nephew--who were sitting around drinking and chatted with them for a few minutes. Though I wanted to stay longer--and if I knew what was good for my freelancing career probably should have--I knew I had to get up early in the morning, so I went up and went to sleep.

Was awakened by Tim at 6:30 AM with the disturbing news that I talk in my sleep. Not much, not distinctly, but I do talk. Apparently I said I loved someone; makes me wish I remembered my dreams more often so I knew who it was.

We checked out of the hotel and went out to wait for our car to be brought around, where we ran into John Rhys-Davies, of Sliders and Gimli fame (or, if you're like me, Salla from Raiders of the Lost Ark), and the keynote speaker at GAMA the night previous. It was odd to see him in person--I have a mental portrait of a much more robust fellow, and it looks like the years are starting to catch up with him. He's still charismatic, but physically he seems sunken and tired. Then his driver brought around his car, and he was gone. A minute later, and we were headed down the road as well.

Summing up the next ten hours quickly: we ran into Casey again eating at IHOP (yes, more pancakes), were checked for fruit at the California border, saw an enormous and amazingly cool wind farm, drove past an airline graveyard, ate lunch at a place where they gave you a big bowl of peanuts and let you throw the shells on the floor, wandered around the countryside after driving up to an arbitrarily-closed freeway on-ramp, saw the garlic capital of the world, drank two enormous bottles of Diet Coke, and eventually arived here in San Jose, where the forces of gaming are gathering for the Game Developer's Conference.

Checked into our room at the hotel and spent the next couple hours waiting and making occasional phone calls as we waited for the third Head--Mr. Rowan Atalla, the Cheerful Curmudgeon--to show up and join us. Gave up, went to the restuarant to grab some dinner, and were immediately joined by Rowan, who had just arrived. (Famous Game Personality Spotting #1: Steve Merzetsky was at a nearby table.)

Then it was back here to the room, where it took a call to hotel maintenance to figure out how to wire my laptop to the hotel's T1 line (you gotta love Silicon Valley hotels!) Now I'm catching up on a few days of web traffic, reading blogs, and writing this here update. For those who don't read the same pages as me, here's your digest: JP revealed the dark secret of his apartment to his parents; Jon stays at work late on Saturday nights looking at supermodels (and note that blog has now blogrolled you in the rightmost column of their page, Jon); Bezzy has gone cartoon crazy and is providing supplemental arguments with each comic; Lileks thinks repairmen are revealing the secrets of God and really dislikes Michael Moore; somebody needs to give Lampshade a quarter; TMOL is maintaining its usual high standard; Angela Gunn keeps pointing me towards good reading and saying clever, witty things that are rapidly making her my online crush; and Metafilter continues to be the high school to SA's junior high.

Now I sleep. Tomorrow, exciting report from GDC!