Frumpy Mom: I’m off to Vegas. Don’t judge me

Yes, I’m a liar. Last week, I wrote my entire column about how I was tired and not going to travel anywhere for awhile.

Except Las Vegas. I’m going to Vegas for a couple of days tomorrow.

Now, don’t judge me, because in my pantheon of travel destinations, Vegas doesn’t really even count, right?

It only takes an hour to fly there, people sort of speak English, take American dollars (lots of them) and serve all-day breakfasts with sunny side up eggs, pancakes and hash browns.

Not exactly foreign territory.

No one goes topless at the pools, the bathrooms don’t have bidets (which is good because I can never figure out how to use them) and there’s always a drunk guy named Fred with a very red face who’s shouting for no apparent reason. At 8 o’clock in the morning.

And there’s Elvis.

The reason I’m going to Vegas for two days is because my friend’s daughter is at summer camp in Catalina. So my first question to her was, “Where are we going while she’s gone?”

We agreed that there had to be sunshine involved. Remember the sun? That golden orb that used to rise every morning and blaze overhead? I don’t know how things are in your ‘hood, but we haven’t seen this celestial body in my neighborhood for as long as we can remember.

We’ve been moping around like pale-faced Scandinavians in February, tired of the endless gloomy gray chill. So, yes, sunshine had to be involved.

Palm Springs, it turns out, is expensive right now, I guess with other people trying to escape the gloom. Or maybe there’s some kind of tennis tournament. Or that big concert everyone goes to. What’s it called? Cinderella? I can never keep track.

And then I remembered that I’ve been wanting to go to Vegas to see my friend Vicki Barbolak, the stand-up comedian who was formerly a member of the “Funniest Housewives of Orange County.”

Since she became a finalist on “America’s Got Talent,” she’s been performing all over the country, including a stint every Tuesday at Jimmy Kimmel’s Comedy Club in Las Vegas.

We decided to combine the guaranteed sunshine of June in Las Vegas with the laughs of seeing Vicki perform.

I was just happy to find someone who would go to Vegas with me. See, most of my friends turn down their noses at the mere mention.

“Oh, Vegas,” they say, with the tone of voice they’d use to describe the 1979 Ford Pinto that was their first car. “I hate Las Vegas.”

Sigh. Now, there are two kinds of people: Those who love Vegas and those who hate it. Personally, I love it. For as many as three days, when it’s not July or August.

Any more than that, and it’s like when you eat too much candy and get an upset stomach.

Usually, I tell my friends who hate Vegas, “That’s because you’ve never been with me.”

Vegas is entirely situational, like going on a cruise. It all depends on where you are and who you’re with.

So when you tell me, “Yes, I went to Vegas once in July with my penny-pinching husband and our four kids, and it was 115 degrees in the shade and we stayed at Circus Circus and it wasn’t fun,” all I can say is that I’m so sorry.

That is not the Vegas experience. And here’s the thing: I don’t gamble. At all. I don’t make much money and I just can’t bear to give any of it to casinos, especially when they’re smoky and disgusting.

I just like the ridiculous over-the-topness of it all. I want to see a cocktail lounge floating on its own indoor lagoon like Cleopatra’s barge. I want to walk down the streets of New York City and see steam coming up from the manhole covers. And see a gondolier pushing a gondola through Venetian canals that are Tidy Bowl blue, so much cleaner and better-smelling than the real canals of Venice.

The kitsch makes me laugh.

And I can’t even think of a better place for watching people from every country on earth. I like to imagine their lives and what they’re saying to each other.

I especially like Downtown Las Vegas, which is so deliciously cheesy and creates its very own definition of camp. The old casinos have such history. And the drinks are cheap. Did you know that you can get married in the downtown Denny’s?

One of my favorite memories of Vegas was during a multi-day series of concerts by the Grateful Dead. It was hilarious to see all these tie-dye-shirted, dreadlocked Deadheads, many of whom didn’t have a dollar to their names, let loose on the Strip, tripping on acid and experiencing the capital of Greed.

I promise to be back in a couple of days with a tan. I’ll probably be swearing off cocktails forever. Let’s see how it goes.