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| - When it comes time to Las Vegas, two days is nice, three days is perfect, four days is excessive, and five days merits an intervention.
In January, I spent 11 straight days in Las Vegas.
For the record, I wasn't there because of a midlife crisis, messy divorce, falling in love with a stripper, gambling problems, alcoholism, or drug addiction. But clearly, a few of those might have played small roles. By the way, my therapist tells me I like to minimize.
I was there for work. But when I wasn't working, I had to eat. And sometimes, there's a rumbling in my tummy to get wasted, black out, and do unspeakable acts. And sometimes, I just crave Panda Express.
Unfortunately, the Chinese guy behind the counter makes an embarrassingly small plate of food. He scooped up a bunch of greasy chow mein and then adorned the plate with three little pieces orange chicken and maybe two pieces of honey walnut shrimp. And he served this atrocity with a smile on his face. I was so annoyed, I threw the plate at his face and poured hot & sour soup all over his body. Okay, that totally didn't happen. But the thought crossed my mind. Clearly, I need more therapy.
Instead, I ate my greasy snack and then walked across the street to McDonald's for a proper meal.
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