Diana

Dear Planet Earth,

I think I’m in love. Some say opposites attract, some say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I say full scale invasions of our planet lead to strong, monogamous relationships.

Diana works at the front desk here at the Bellagio. Or at least she’s pretending to. She was a sophomore at UNLV (University of Nevada, Las Vegas) until the tremors hit and they decided to cancel classes indefinitely. With nothing to do, my ambitious amour decided to fulfill her lifelong dream of working at one of the ritziest hotels in Las Vegas. She hired herself since most of the staff had already abandoned their lives here to flee west. This is pretty much how I and, according to Diana, countless other young vagabonds scored free hotel rooms (though strangely enough, not a single homeless person has tried).

But I’m getting off point here. The point is I’m in love. Diana Sunday is smart, funny, and has tits the size of my id. She’s everything I’ve imagined college girls to be. Even her name sounds cultured, right out of a James Bond film.

We’ve spent the past two days together and tomorrow we’re planning to trek outside the city to investigate that strange object I took a picture of the other day. She’s betting me $500 in spa credit that it’s an alien spaceship, but I’m starting to lean towards something more terroristy. This isn’t exactly how I pictured my first date with a girl would be.

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