Hi friends. As usual my motivation to write has ebbed and flowed with my work + personal schedule. I am of the age that my Facebook newsfeed reads more “look how cute my baby is” and “omg, we’re engaged!” and less “has anyone seen my ID?”
Anyways, I have spent my day thus far eating Brie + crackers and my weeks leading up to this cheese binge considering all the topics I could write about but not actually doing so. I have also been spending more time tweeting bitchy, complainy things like “why is the Comcast down?” and “give me my money back, Travelocity!” The power of social media with regards to customer service is truly mind boggling, especially when limited to 140 characters. Read my tweets here for a snippet of entertainment and a giggle (you’re welcome.)
So, let me catch you up on a few things I swore I would blog up about but ultimately didn’t because of my laundry-list of excuses.
Las Vegas: I went and survived, and didn’t ruin a pedicure.
That in and of itself is amazing. The four of us ladies stayed at the Bellagio, where they charge $9 for a poolside 16oz Bud Light Lime ($10 with tip). Though pricey, I will admit the pool guys are very helpful when you are looking for a pool chair, and even more so when you slip ’em a Lincoln (ball-er).
We hit up an ice bar the first night, before going to see Tony & Tina’s Wedding at Bally’s. The ice bar, Minus 5, is at the Monte Carlo, and was a balmy 23 degrees and fun! It was a cool experience to sip (chug) a cocktail from a glass made of ice and watch a drunkard take a shot of…something…from an ice luge in the shape of a woman’s upper half. I could tell you, or you could use your imagine as to where the liquor comes out. Hint: two people can take a shot at once. Anywho, our late-20 selfs came, saw and left. We headed out to the show where we did more of the same: came, saw, left.
We spent a far amount of time bar-hopping: Monte Carlo > Bally’s > Cosmopolitan > Bellagio, picking up a drink or two at each stop along the way. It was after midnight, a time I hadn’t seen in months, and we were en route back to our room. My feet were screaming, “move your ass” and my eyes were drooping. Then we got stopped by a club promoter who offered us a cut-the-line offer only losers in Vegas would refuse. Free champagne? WHAT?! In.
Sadly, I think we got to the party a little too late and it was as if time was stopped in our circle of lifelessness. The four of us stood in the only space we could find, unable to talk because of the house music or sit because Las Vegas isn’t big on the chairs unless you pay for them, and so we stood.
The next day was dedicated to more pool time. It was raining in Seattle and nothing was going to stop us from enjoying the 90 degree weather outside. We walked the strip a bit, and had a happy hour sushi feast at RA (go there, it’s goooood) then picked up some vodka at Walgreens to get SERIOUS.
If my feet didn’t hurt already, they hurt more when I woke up. There was more dancing and eating at 3am. I woke up in the bed next to my own with the hanging taste of root beer and vanilla in my dry mouth. (PS vanilla vodka + diet a&w is amazing). We went to my favorite brunch spot, Mon Ami Gabi, at the Paris and had bloody mary bar. YUM-MY. Go there, drink this:
I had been gung-ho on playing roulette after winning $70 a few weeks prior when I was at Foxwoods in CT. Instead, I didn’t gamble at all and got the most solid base tan ever. By the end of it, as usual, I was ready to come home, sleep in my own bed and be lights out by 10:30. But as always, Las Vegas won. It always does.