Palm Springs Seduction

It’s warm, it’s sunny, it’s sybaritic. The seduction is intense and complete. You can wander in tank tops and flip flops at midnight, the desert is, indeed, a temptress.

But the truly scary vision of and aged snobird, polyester pantsuit, pulled facial grimace, bleached hair and immense Lincoln, toddering into the local food haunts was all I needed to snap me out of my momentary reverie and remind of why I left here, screaming, back to the real world.

Reality TV needs to do a show on THIS place!

The Fake Widows of Palm Springs.

About pdxwiz

Robby is a writer/photographer who splits his time between home in Portland, OR and home-away-from home in Key West. He posts on whatever flights of fancy strike his often restless mind. Stupid media gets his ire up, reflective history makes him happy/sad/wistful, and people always amaze him in any way. Feel free to suggest a topic if, after reading something of his, you feel you'd like to hear his take on an issue.
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2 Responses to Palm Springs Seduction

  1. pdxwiz says:

    The Mutilated Matrons of the Mojave

  2. Steve says:

    I remember her! Outside of El Gallito, right? (and again @ the street fair…and again @ the grocery…and again @ breakfast….and again….)

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