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Unlike my previous trip, gambling was done on our time in between destinations...it wasn't THE DESTINATION. Finished up about $50 as opposed to down $2.7 million. I was up quite a bit until a darling little blonde with a thick southern accent was sitting alone at a Mississippi Stud table. What the fck is Mississippi Stud? I'm a sucker. Oh well.
My only 2 sports bets were winners, Oklahoma State over Georgia and Heisman hopeful Greg Paulus and co. covering 7 against Minnesota. Would love to have followed through on a BYU national championship bet that crossed my mind at 80 to 1 (They just beat Oklahoma, and if they run the table, they will have beaten TCU, Utah and Florida State. That's enough in my mind to let them play for the BCS title, that's a better schedule than the Badgers play).
Spent a ton of time by the pool. Needless to say, I remain tan and jacked.
The bars - and we'll call them bars so that I don't have to wince everytime I type 'club' - at The Palms were awesome. Ghostbar has an outdoor DJ/dance area and outdoor bar on a balcony 55 floors up. The Palms is the perfect distance off of the strip that when you look out, the entire strip is in your view...and we had to be douche tourists and sit and snap camera phone pictures for 10 minutes...oh well, sorry for partying. Hoping to catch Lindsay Lohan blowing off some dyke relationship steam, we hit up Moon - more of a danceclub, *cringe*, but was real fun, the retractable roof was open. The best part of the night came in the form of B-positive... BLOODY NOSE ON THE DANCEFLOOR, uh-oh. Me and the trashiest drunk girl in the place (zing) were escorted to the kitchen by a man in a black suit. When we were greeted by 12 of these black suit-ed men in the kitchen, I put on my best innocent card counter act, pleading that they don't beat me up. 3 laughed, 2 were visibly annoyed, and the rest were impartial. One of the angry ones wanted to walk us out and go in the service elevator with us... kinda sketch, so I kept a fist (or whatever it is I have on the end of my arm) balled up in case.
On night 3, we headed to see an 80's cover band called Steel Panther. Funniest concert I've ever seen, there's a sign outside saying how 'the show is vulgar so beware'.
After Steel Panther, being the club-hoppers that we are, we hit up Jet at The Mirage. In my head, I was tearing it up on the dance floor with a girl who looked like Khloe Kardashian...more accurate description would probably be that I was stumbling in circles, dancing with a wearwolf of a woman, spilling my drink on everyone, and doing my go-to move every other measure of the song. I've drawn out my go-to move below. I'm a regular Kevin Federline.
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You try to do something nice for a change and it gets thrown back in your face. On my way out the door, I grabbed my ipod for the plane ride, then said 'you know, it would be polite to just talk with the guys on the plane instead of shut them off and throw in my headphones.' That gesture went unreciprocated. Pure hell, especially on the way back. Couldn't sleep, no music, no magazine, cloudy conditions so I couldn't watch out the window.
The night at Jet was fun, HOWEVER... I was informed that Shwayze was going to be at Jet to perform. It was perfect, we saw Steel Panther and they ended at 1:30. The club promoter told us Shwayze went on at 1/1:30 "so that everyone can get in and have a few drinks before he starts." We get there and find ourselves paying a $50 cover only because he's there. Jet is a touch upscale and I wouldn't have gone out of my way to go to the Mirage to go to Jet if I wasn't going to see Shwayze. When he wasn't on when we walked in, I just figured "oh those LA guys, probably doing some drugs in the back, going to be fashionably late, I get it." I ask the wearwolf if Shwayze went on already and she goes "oh the black guy?"... ummm what? If Obama walked through that door would you ask "oh the black guy?" If the Pope walked through that door would you ask "oh the old guy?" Cunt. I should have spilled a drink on her. On purpose this time. The answer was yes, the black guy named Shwayze was already done. I'm still fuming about not seeing him, thanks you fcking dope promoter fag.
Drinks were $12 at Palms and $15 at Jet. Ouch.
I was supposed to have the sweetest male swimwear at the pool - a pair of light seafoam green short dad trunks, the kind with the net liner. It took 5 seconds to squash that idea. Right when we walk out, a 50 year old dude with leathery tan skin, and salt and pepper chest hair shows me who's boss with an orange and pink speedo. There was a water slide there too that flew you down it at all of 7 mph...disappointing.
Eh
I'm torn between being insulted and extremely confident about the number of hookers I was approached by. On one hand, who can resist these high cheek bones and villuptuous (spelling? a word even?) curves. On the other, what, are they like "wow look at that poor sap, this will be like stealing candy from a baby." One at Moon was like "hey! I really think we should get out of here and have some real fun in your room" so in my head I'm thinking 'wow, this chick is DOWN! wait...'
"free fun, right?"
"Pff, no."
I got smart on them, though, and only carried a few bucks with me at the end of the night. Then when they asked, I said "well I've got $8, let's do this!" They followed with a brush of my arm and a "goodnight, sweetie." She called me sweetie...she DOES love me!!!
I'm writing this at 7:30am, can't fall asleep, still on vegas time, and, peering out into the horizon of the next few weeks, don't see anything that will require a specific wake-up or bedtime. I see a 9am to 5pm sleep schedule for quite some time. Nice little nocturnal lifestyle. Maybe I'll get a hold of that wearwolf from Jet, they're nocturnal too.
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