Sin City Indeed

So I spent last weekend in Vegas for a Bachelor party.

Yes, I have friends.

Yes, one of them is stupid enough to get married.

It was a good time, all in all, with only brief periods of hate. These periods of hate are caused, as always, by the presence of other people. The thing that inspired most of the hate was, shock and amazement, children and parents.

Who the fuck brings kids to Vegas? Did they somehow miss the fucking ads? "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Vegas is not family friendly. You get ads for prostitutes walking along the Strip.

Yet these idiots bring their kids here. Are they too fucking lazy or poor to hire a sitter for the two days they are blowing the kid's college funds on "Wheel of Fortune" slot machines? I don't get it.

The most poignant example of this was in the room next to us. Someone there had an infant. When I say an infant, I mean an infant. This thing could not have been more than a few months old. The reason I know this is because it would scream. A lot. In that distinctive voice that only an infant can make. For what seemed like hours. Whenever we were trying to sleep.

I hate this child for its voice.

I hate the parents more for two reasons. First, I hate them for having the thing in the first place. I know, by virtue of the fact that they are human, that these people are stupid and ignorant. So, of course, they fucking spawn another idiot. Secondly, I hate them for IGNORING THE FUCKING THING. That's right. The fucking mutant would start its shriek. And it would shriek, and shriek, and shriek. The source of this sound, so clearly audible through the thin walls at the MGM Grand (as a sidenote, I love hearing people having sex while trying to get to the elevator), never moved. No one would come to pick up the child, or attempt to soothe it in any way.

And we wonder why we are so fucked up as a country?

God, I hate fucking parents.