I went to Las Vegas over the weekend to celebrate my friend Alyssa’s birthday. We stayed at the Bellagio and got massages and pedicures and went to see Rick Springfield in concert (again) and we found a club that was open on Sunday night and even though we were decades older than many of the kids there we danced to the gangsta rap and had the time of our lives. It was over 100 degrees the whole time but we went to the pool and we went walking around and everywhere people were smoking and beggars lined the pedestrian bridges, one with a tiny dog panting in the heat, and there were splashy photos of mostly or fully nude women for all to see and I marveled at how many children were walking around exposed to the smoke and the porn. Yes, I did bring my own children to Las Vegas just a few months ago, but we spent no time on the strip. I returned home exhausted and of course, sick. Again. I don’t think I need to return anytime soon.
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When I grow up I want the life of Kim Tracy Prince. Except the sick part. That I could do without. Let’s dance to gangsta rap when you are better.
And I almost started spelling rap with a “W.” Crap – I think that means I’m old. (But still not old enough to be your mother!) 😉
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