It's electric.

I have a minor fear of shorting out my entire hotel, but after reviewing old vacation photos, I've realized that traveling without hair appliances is not an option. So for my upcoming trip to Germany, I decided to invest in a proper adapter and surge protector. I've seen models sell for upwards of $50 at Sharper Image, but I went with the Franzus All-in-One from Adorama instead -- a much more wallet-friendly $12.85 (plus shipping). Bonus: It adapts to outlets in the UK, Europe, Asia, and parts of Africa, so I can plug in anywhere without blowing a fuse.

It's better on a Monday.

What happens in Vegas is usually overrated. Seriously. The hotels are tacky, the buffets are nasty, and the Strip is packed with weekend warriors desperate to have some sort of craaazy thing happen to them.

But I can't hate on Vegas completely, because it does have two things I love: neon, and $1 margaritas. And even though last night's VMAs made me want to stab myself in the eye, they also made me want to stay at the Palms. Maybe that's because the show was basically a two-hour commercial for the Maloof digs. Whatever, I'm sold. But I'll skip the $329 weekend rate -- and the corresponding crowd -- and stick with the midweek discounts, which start at $129 on Sundays. Same hotel, same fab lounges, fewer desperate tourists. Triple play!

Nice jail cell.

I love re-imagined buildings -- hospitals that become apartment buildings, banks that become restaurants, train terminals that become hotel lobbies. So I'm newly obsessed with Boston's Liberty Hotel, which opened yesterday in the former Charles Street Jail. They've cleaned up a little -- rooms have LCD TVs and Molton Brown toiletries. (I'd pocket a few bottles of shower gel. Hey, you're already in jail.) The exercise yard is now a courtyard; the drunk tank is now a bar called ALIBI; and the doorhangers say "Solitary" instead of "Do Not Disturb." The only downside: unless you spring for one of the 18 rooms in the historic building, you'll probably be sleeping in the new 16-story tower across the courtyard. But you can still toast the cell-block dwellers at the casual restaurant, Clink. Of course, it'd be nice if they got their reservation system up and running so I could list the rates; you get bathrobes, so it must be a little pricey. If you'd only known, you could've robbed a bank in 1989 and stayed for free.

Positively ravaged.

It's always nice when a hurricane misses -- for obvious reasons, of course, but also because you get the same pristine beach resort at crazy low rates. Tulum is already back in biz after Hurricane Dean, and you can score a cabana at the cute La Zebra for $100/night. Rooms are simple, but think "boutique," not "shack." The new-ish cantina serves up charcoal-grilled meals, and they even have wi-fi. Might as well stick around until December.

No more arm length pics.

Despite the awkward product shot, I am obsessed with the QuikPod. (It is neither fast nor affiliated with Apple, so I'm guessing the name refers to its usage as a slightly more convenient tripod.) Basically, you attach the handheld stick thingie to your camera, set the self-timer, and snap a pic that actually contains your entire face and some scenery. "That's nice," you say. "But can't you just ask a friendly stranger to snap your picture?" Sure. Unless, say, you've just climbed Mount Everest and your sherpa is taking a water break. Or you're in a sketchy area that already has you clutching your makeshift fanny pack precariously. Or you just don't want some idiot stranger taking a picture of your nose and the Empire State Building. The QuikPod costs about $30 at Amazon -- worth it if you travel solo. (Need an excuse to spend more money? The LCD screen on the Canon PowerShot A630 flips and rotates, so you can preview your self-portrait before you snap it. Sweet!)

These are almost cute.

I sincerely believe that Crocs are the scourges of fashion. I have nothing against comfortable footwear, but I draw the line at wearing a $30 foam clog that looks like a cross between a wiffle ball and clown vomit. Croc devotees can wax rapturous all they want; at the end of the day, they're still wearing fugly shoes. However, I will admit that these "Cleo" sandals aren't entirely putrid. I'd still rather walk the entire Jersey coastline in five-inch heels than give in to the cult of Crocs, but at least this color combo is sunny and cute, and they (mostly) lack the Bozo-chic vibe. Score?

Neutral goes with everything.

I was feeling pretty good about my footprint until I took this quiz, which alerted me to the fact that it would take five planets to sustain my lifestyle. Agghh! Now, I will argue that there were no specific questions about home energy use. If I am going to live without A/C, give me some credit, dammit! But travel consumes a decent chunk of carbon (though apparently not as much as my voracious love of carne), so calculate your next flight's footprint at Carbon Neutral, then pony up a few GBPs to offset the damage. Voila! Guilt-free globetrotting.