By this time tomorrow I will be in Las Vegas for what is sure to be a weekend full of debauchery, dancing, and champagne. (So, you know...a weekend like the rest of them only with clubs, casinos, and strippers instead of hipster bars, after parties, and speakeasies.) I will try not to get married, arrested, or religion, but I make no promises that I won't find my calling as a showgirl named Lola, who sits at the blackjack tables oozing sad glamour when she's not working. I mean, a girl can only do so much.
You behave yourselves while I'm gone, hear?
You behave yourselves while I'm gone, hear?
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