I was heading out of my hotel casino room to catch the first flight out of Vegas. It turned into "I spy the walk of shame" when I saw a poor gal wandering the floor at 5:00am clearly in last night’s tight little dress, doing a balance beam routine on her stripper heels, hair disheveled, raccoon eyes (smudged mascara) and on the phone trying to get her friends to tell her where her room was. A real friend would have told her.
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