Had a GREAT time this past weekend with three of my girlfriends in Vegas. There was no focused celebration or reason to go other than we needed to escape California for a couple days and where better to do it?
The thing about Vegas is, for me, I feel liberated the second the car crosses the California/Nevada border. Maybe sooner. Maybe from the moment we hit the road and turned the Vegas mix on the iPod. There's nothing like a good music mix to get you in the mood. I am, as it happens, the master of the mix. I am totally "DJ Jazzy Jew."
Nothing annoys me more than play-by-play blogs so here are just some photo highlights and some fabulous quotes I took down over the weekend. (I was named the quote-book-keeper.) I bet you can tell which things were said under the influence and which were stated out of sheer genius...
It might help to know that by the end of the weekend, we'd all earned new nicknames. You'll pick up on that...
Deb: We never found sugar daddies…
Me: That's ok- we found Kristy the cocktail waitress!
Me: Wanna smell my foot? (As I pretty much put it right in front of her nose because I am disgusting)
Deb: Smells like vegas.
Deb: I'm gonna have some FRENCH TOAST (Imagine Leslie Mann in the 40 Year Old Virgin)
Frat boy passing by us to his buddy: Dude, I totally want french toast now.
Steph: Dear lobster, by the time I finished eating you, I was hungry again. Hugs n' kisses, Liberace
Me, after tasting Steph’s nasty mojito: Dude, my makeup remover has less alcohol than this. Shit, turpentine is more palatable.
Deb: Guys, I wanna have coke bottles in my hair by the end of this weekend
Me: I want a microwave burrito.
Deb: There are many subtle layers of HO. Crispy, extra crispy, or like some deep fried ho.
Deb: Omigod, it smells like Vegas. So gross. I love it.
Deb, upon seeing our beautiful room: It’s like Jesus lives here.
Steph to well-dressed dudes: What are you guys in town for?
Deb: The convention of awesomeness.
Deb, to the taxi driver: What's your name?
Taxi driver: Daniel
Melissa: Daniel? That's my therapist’s name.
Taxi Driver: Maybe I could be your second therapist.
(seems like a good idea, no?)
Steph: Melissa I have something for you. It's a red flag.
Me: My Vegas is throbbing
Sam, new friend from the pool: I date guys who take steroids because they hate themselves.
Me (via Facebook): Dear Vegas, Steph is drunk. I got a new hat. What up?
Deb: Melissa said “Drink, don't think.” Man, the rules get flipped in Vegas.