Uuuuunnnnggggghhh

Need sleep for like a week.

We got back from our annual Vegas trip last night, where we didn't sleep for three days, spents thousands of dollars on god knows what, got arrested for being TOO DRUNK, held up traffic on The Strip because we got the great idea that we should take The Strip as an order not a street name, and killed some guy.

Or that's what would have happened if we were not so damn old. Gabi and I spent most of the time in bed, reading, (in between our naps of course) and the rest of the girls planted themselves at the dealertainer blackjack tables at the Imperial Palace.

Dealertainers are amazing. They're impersonators. . . who deal.

They also stop dealing periodically to get up on a three foot stage to sing a few songs. I saw up Mariah Carey's skirt, watched Stevie Wonder pretend to be blind and feel his way down the stairs and then actually trip and fall flat on his face, and for some reason heard Aretha Franklin sing Alicia Keyes songs all night. My favorite though, was Michael Jackson, and despite the fact that he couldn't go four minutes without grabbing his crotch and pointing at Katie, which caused her to shudder repeatedly, I wanted to take him home with me and make him dance while I fold laundry.

Later (when I'm not completely sleep deprived and get full permission from Bub) I will be posting a series of, er, posts tentatively titled: Why My Sister Was Not Allowed To Talk During The Entire Weekend Because Everything That Came Out Of Her Mouth Was Something A Sister Should Never Have To Hear. Ever. / Her New Nickname Is **edited** The Original.