A harsh morning if I recall correctly. Space Cadet and I wake up and decide to hit the pool because who are you if you don't have a tan (just kidding....but really) I was still in my shade of winter white (which is actually quite blue-ish...I look a bit like a ghost but with blackheads) but had a nice shellacking of spray tan taking my hue to maybe having stood in a sandstorm for about 33 seconds. We lay out and attempt to soak up all of the glory that the Hooters Hotel pool has to offer.(I should mention the fact that it's been about 3 months since I left this as a draft so it might be more fiction than fact but what the fuck right?) Ok so here we are Saturday morning, nursing a hangover by the Hooters pool, of course. We decide that a gourmet meal is in order so we head on into the luxurious Dan Marino's Restaurant because we all know that an excellent football career and even better cameo in the eternal film Ace Ventura: Pet Detective make the best chefs of us all. Allow me to concede that the food was actually pretty good and considering how badly my stomach wanted to retaliate against me, was a fairly high mark. So we eat about as much as we can stomach and begin preparing for the evening that lie ahead.
Off we head back to our rooms, where I believe a nap was in order. And if we didn't nap, then we should have. We begin our evening by selecting outfits which were numerous and sparkly. And the other girls had dresses too. We start boozing AND HOW but we didn't want to get too wasted before the concert as every detail had to be committed to memory! Dressed and ready we head to MGM Grand Garden Arena.
THE SHOW
So basically words cannot describe just how epic the show was. I mean Britney was there. Nuff said.
I will say I wish that she danced a bit more. I have had this discussion with Space Helmet and probably my mother who I like PROGRAMED to love Britney that basically Beyonce ruined everything. Specifically, that she started dancing in like epic-ly high heels. Flash back to the Dream Within A Dream tour Pre-Blackout era she was always in flats or wedges so that she could more easily shake her business much to the delight of the throngs of fans. But then FUCKING BEYONCE had to come along and ruin it by shaking a good deal more business in skyscraper fetish heels. Britney or more likely TEAM SPEARS decided that it was time to follow suit. Why oh why can't a lady wear some fucking Sketchers or whatever. You don't often see dancers wearing Loubs. I digress.
Basically we had a grand ole time.
We head back to Chateau du Hooters and start the real party. We start hitting the sauce and a while into it, it becomes clear that we aren't really going anywhere. At this point, (I don't remember the euphemism that I called this lady previously so I'll call her Big Gay Al.) Big Gay Al decides to tell us that she had informed a friend of hers from high school who is now based in LV that three ladies were down to party. So since we weren't really going out, I slur that we should just invite him to party with us in the hotel room. Biggest. Mistake. Ever.
He arrives and let's just say that rape-y doesn't really begin to describe him. Tall and lumbering. I'll just throw the word lummox out there. Now that that's covered let's go on to see just how the rest of the night turned out.
We start boozin some more and he decides that no of course we should take our show on the road. OHHHKAAAYYY..... so I throw out there that I basically am unwilling to pay for a cab (shock there...I will climb any mountain....to avoid paying for transportation or parking) so this leaves us with clubs that are close (which being off strip limits us to tropicana or MGM) or the elegant night spots that Hooters hotel has to offer. So we hit Dixie's Dam Bar which I will describe as being like Coyote Ugly but without all the ambiance and filled with lazy strippers. I am all for strippers in the on-screen sense (probably too terrified to go in the real life sense...not enough purell in the world and I don' t think that a biohazard suit follows dress code....maybe if it was assless but that somehow defeats the purpose) but when they aren't really giving their all (they're going to be hygienists!) it's pretty depressing. Also you know it's a good club when it's really brightly lit. I mean they weren't even going to give you the luxury of dim lighting to obscure the sadness that lurks in the shadows. So we hang out for a while and ole rape-y makes friends with an asian new zealander or something (totally fabricated but it was some random shit like that). Also of note there was a pole and so a photoshoot was in order. I realized later that the phrase "dance lessons ten cents" which only lends more class and elegance to the whole eve. We head back up to the room after absorbing enough local culture and continue boozing. By the way raperino is drinking up our drinks....gross.
This is where shit goes downhill. There was a photoshoot of course but its where that went was where it was no bueno. The photoshoot ends in a natural winding down fashion when he goes "don't stop taking pictures" "I'll take your slutty pictures"
Let's just say that for anyone who has ever seen these photos is that slutty really isn't one of the words. It's usually way more visceral than mundane sluttiness. I mean they are all about being as ugly or chromisonally challenged as possible. So I start giving the side eye like nobody's business. I then decide to pull the sheets over myself as to protect from any overly pervy moves.
It should also say that Big Gay Al was not the subject of any of rapey's affection, that honor goes only to me and Space Helmet. I am under the sheets when he starts to rip the sheets up and snap pictures of what lies beneath.....
I am terrified and am trying to cling to what dignity I had left. I then fall off the bed after a series of escalating hide and seek moves between myself (i.e. the Moranis....my vag is named Rick Moranis...don't ask) and rapey. I am on the ground and by the way he keeps taking pictures and I look increasingly violated. In one shoot I am fully under the sheets and Big Gay Al is posing on top of me as Rapey is lurking/hovering above me. All you can see are my hands....thanks for defending my honor, friend.
This eventually ends (thank jesus) and he starts lumbering to a corner. Around 3 I stand above him and point to my watch. Then I kick him and point again to my watch. He then says ....I can't drive home.
Yeah because Vegas is really hard to get around in super wasted. Lummox takes up like half of the floor space and is really hard to wake in the morning. I should have just vomited on him.
And I am pretty sure that covers it all....we did another cameo at the val party (aka the Hooters pool) which was generally awesome as the pool wasn't heated at all so it was frigid (which I am kinda into...explains a lot...or not) and the hottubs were fucking cesspools so we dare not enter....drive home primm....end of story.
FIN.
No comments:
Post a Comment