Dateline: Las Vegas. I’m now firmly ensconced in my room at the Westin, and it’s a definite downgrade from the Bellagio in terms of stone cold chillin’ and the possibility of seeing bouncy porn stars who are in town for a big smut convention this weekend. I am a stone’s throw away from a hotel and casino named Terrible’s. I will not go there, because I don’t want to ruin the illusion if, by some chance, it’s not, in fact, a terrible casino. Oh, feeling woozy. I have to sleep off the juevos rancheros I just devoured. Adios.


When I entered the lobby of the Westin, the song “Rock On” by Michael Damian was playing. It’s gotta be the worst tune ever to make the top 10.