The 4 Horsemen Were Coming?! I would have baked a cake!

Imagine my surprise when I wake up yesterday and find that the end of the world was Saturday, my birthday!  Wait a minute, I was coming back from Las Vegas Saturday, the Sin City of the world (if you don't count my other favorite city, New Orleans), could it mean that it happened and there's no one here left but us heathens?! Well, at least we are all in good company and all my friends are here.  I was going to get all preachy and all on people trying to predict the end of the world but then I found this cool app that let me draw smoke coming out of my mouth and that was more fun.

To anyone out there that lives in Las Vegas, let it be known I'm jealous of you.  While out there I had great hair (just a dab of gel and I was good to go), was dry from a shower in record time, was allergy-free and could walk outside without looking like I jumped into a swimming pool of sweat (that was gross, wasn't it?).  I touch down in Birmingham and I'm sweating with an afro looking for my Afrin in my man-bag (which gets hung up in the closet until next vacation).  HOWEVER, each time I'm there, I have to fall for something.  Last time, some unscrupulous chick rings me up with a 400.00 pair of jeans that had no price tag until she swiped my poor card and announced no returns (insert Tex Avery style cartoon mouth dropping, eyes bulging and high-pitched woman scream).

I had to send in the big guns and got Mrs. Macabre to do some "convincing" that I needed shirts instead.
This year was worse.  I was walking around by myself (Mrs. Macabre was doing something else that night) and a BEAUTIFUL young lady with an exotic accent (and keep in mind that I'm not influenced by beauty that much. However, you can charm me and all my defense shields go down and she WAS charming) gives me a sample of some facial cream in Caesar's Palace Forum Shops.  Should have said "I'm allergic to everything over 2.00 a quart from the lotion aisle at the grocery store" and kept on walking but noooooooo, I had my butt hugger jeans on, black roach killer boots, my hair was looking all good and I was wearing my rhinestone club shirt looking like I was ready to take to a stage and scream "HELLLOOOOO LAS VEGAS, ARE YOU READY TO ROOOOOOOCCCCCCKKKKKKK?!!!!!!!"
I sat down in her chair and it was allllllll over. "You're about to be 47?  I would have thought 39 at the very most", "You have such good skin, you need only the best to keep it so beautiful", "I like you, I'm going to give you the facial cleanser at my cost".   I was (hold on kiddies) 600.00 poorer by the time she was done with me, had a sack of facial products that I was going to have to sneak back 1300 miles that are still deeeeeeeeeep under the bed and I can see myself dashing to the mailbox for the next couple of weeks until the credit card statement comes in.  I will have to say that they DO make me look a few years younger and my skin does feel better but I feel like such a Benedict Arnold to my Mary Kay lady now.
All I can say is, next time I'm in Las Vegas, I'm staying OUT of the Ferrari dealer showroom!