Vegas, Baby!! Vegas Baby?!

Your parents probably told you the story while you cringed, asking to be spared of the gory details, the nightmarish thoughts of your parental units getting all “brown chicken, brown cow”! Thinking that telling you would be some proof of how special your creation truly was, not realizing how it created uncomfortable thoughts of how your celibate Puritanical Mom and Dad could get busy and thus void your illusion of being the second Immaculate Conception. You survived it and maybe it, unbeknownst to you, was actually a rite of passage into adulthood: yes, Virginia, Mommy and Daddy perform the horizontal Mambo, they may even talk dirty to each other, and the bottle of “vitamins” on the Daddy’s nightstand, and the “massager” in Mommy’s dresser drawer are for having adult fun.
When I came to realize these things, I in some way promised myself and my future children that I would try to create them in the most mundane fashion that produced the least amount of possible back story. As fate should have it, the first addition to our loving family will one day be tortured with the terribly fabulous way in which they were conceived. I’ll spare you the details (mostly because I certainly remind you more of Tom Arnold than Tom Cruise) but it really all started because we just needed a vacation. Our most favorite place to go has always been Las Vegas, and this time we tried to keep our trip on the DL, a couple’s getaway if you will. We would actually get adult activities in; if you catch my meaning (previous trips prohibited such activity based on poor timing).
Las Vegas is a fabulous city with an exceptional marketing campaign that completely captures the frivolity and carefree attitude you are lead to believe exists. They promote an amnesia based vacation getaway that completely absolves one of any repercussions for the wild and crazy time they may have. They tell you it never happened. They are lying to us! I am here to tell you that on May 17th (or near that date anyway) there will be flesh and bone proof that What Happens in Vegas Doesn’t Stay There! And in about sixteen years that poor proof will hear all about it!