I’m embarrassed to say that this past week was the first time I’d ever been to Las Vegas. The trip was long overdue, but I can explain: I don’t usually do well in dense crowds and I lost the taste for gambling at the age of 16 after getting hustled by some unconscionable grown-up asshole running a 3 Card Monte racket at a Jack In The Box in Agoura, CA.
My summary: Las Vegas is a lot like Sylvia Browne: Smoky, musty, dusty, dry, fake, smelly, trashy & it wants to steal all of your money.
[pause for laughter]
Ah, the city that never sleeps. Wait, that’s New York. Oh, the city of lights? Hm, I guess that’s Paris. Well, whatever they call Las Vegas, I was there and I had a lovely time with my generous bebbeboo, who staged us in a really comfortable, attractive suite at the Monte Carlo. It’s odd that such a nice, costly room would be managed by a lazy staff. The front desk goons were crabby assholes. We were told with no apology that Read more