I cooked lunch for some friends today. We sat around and discussed a possible Spring Break trip to Las Vegas. I think it sounds like it could be a lot of fun, but I'm a little upset Celine Dion's run is over. She's been replaced by Bette Midler...blah. To me, that's like replacing the diamond in your ring with a popcorn kernel. When I was younger I used to karaoke almost daily to "The Rose," but that's because it was on the only split-track CD I had. And I didn't know any better. Nowadays, the chances of me paying to see Bette Midler are smaller than the chances of finding a McCain bumper sticker on a Prius. It's just not going to happen.
Also, Las Vegas is known as Sin City. Now I have no problem with the occasional streak of naughtiness; in fact, just the other night my roommate and I went out for a particularly sinful night of steak and James Bond. But just what kind of shenanigans can I get into in Vegas? I won't come home married, will I? Although I'm not sure who would be the bigger loser in that situation-- myself or the poor guy that was fooled into tying the knot with me.
That said, it's got to be warmer than Indiana in March. As long as I have water and sun I'll be happy. Off to find some lotion.