Last night was the last night of our long run at the Rio. It's the best theater in Vegas and the best crowds. It's just perfect for us. We can even rehearse and put new stuff in. Everyone agrees that the food backstage is the best and we have our own crew guys. There's good parking and a nice green room. And I want to say again, that we put new stuff in here and we rehearse here. It's a really good place for us to work. It's a very good gig and we're happy here.

Before the show we went to some cocktail party where people were paying $150 bucks to meet us (maybe they were paying that to meet Tom Jones, but I can dream can't I?). Before the show we could only be there for a half hour, but after the show we got to see Tom Jones and Clint Holmes jam on the bandstand. There was an upright and Clint tried hard to get me to play, but I was too chicken-liver-green-guts, but I'll be better soon, and then I'll start doing this. But, anyway back to before the show. My Little Pink Death was low on gas. Very low. I hate to get gas. I said to Glenn that I hoped I didn't run out of gas. He told me there was a gas station right there and I should take 5 minutes and get gas. I didn't bother.

I ran out of gas. As Robbie said, "If there were only some way to know!" I coasted up to the Rio. I put it in neutral and leaned forward. The car stopped at the far end of the Rio. I had to walk to work. It's a wonder I can even feed myself. Well, I can't really, Glenn has to do a lot of that too. So, during the show, Glenn had to do all the work to get my car back in the parking lot and filled with gas. I'm such an idiot. I'm such an idiot. Maybe they were paying $150 dollars to meet someone as stupid as me. You don't see them every day.

Penn

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