Night Two in Vegas!

Regardless of the fact that I didn't drink on night one in Vegas, waking up was a struggle and a half. Apparently that's what happens when you stay out until 3 in the morning, dancing until you can't feel your legs anymore. But after several naps, it was time to get our butts up and do it all over again. I put on my "hot pants," what everyone referred to my shorts as, and a velvet, long-sleeve crop top with some booties. My favorite part was the wine shade lipstick. I made me look like I could murder someone which is the aesthetic that I most enjoy. 

As I entered the bathroom where my friends were getting ready, I asked if I looked fat. I don't think that fat is something that my body can physically produce so why I could ask such a stupid question is beyond me. Jordan, pretty disgusted with me, responded by yelling that I looked like an infant. She corrected herself, "but a sexy infant!" I mean, I guess that's what I'm going for at this point in my life. the sexy infant look. I felt pretty good about it though so, after an obvious bad-bitch, hallway mirror pic, we loaded the taxi and headed to Chippendales. 

What's a ladies trip to Vegas without some male strippers? To be honest, I wouldn't know because I've only been once and that one time, we went to Chippendales. Let me tell you, it was quite the show. I made sure to sit next to Steph who was just as uncomfortable about the whole situation as I was and we basically grabbed each other for dear life every time someone began to take their clothes off. We also grabbed each other for dear life when the preppy stripper came out because obviously that is the dream and we needed to keep ourselves grounded. 

After the show, I spent the best $10 of my life - sitting on the lap of a Chippendale's stripper for a photo. My mother didn't quite approve and my boyfriend approved so much less, but I'm an strong independent woman of a very pale color and I thought it was a fucking blast and a half.  After sharing with my boyfriend how much fun I had at the show he, upset, told me "what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas." Well, shit. 

Chippendales was just the pregame. After the show we made our way to the Bellagio for more VIP service at Hyde. We rolled up in style with half naked women with glow sticks and big DZ letters cheering for us. I could definitely get used to this. Also the free juice - I, again, was definitely interested in the free juice. 

Our bottle wench (that's probably a rude thing to call her...) kept asking me if I wanted a drink and, after rejecting her several times, I finally asked "is it weird if I just ask for cranberry juice?" She happily poured me a vodka free glass and I told her my sob story about how I'm allergic to alcohol and she told me that she is too! A Christmas miracle! As we were now bonded as best friends, she continued to refill my cranberry juice every time I was low. It was honestly the dream. 

Jordan and I tried to take a photo of us looking flawless in the club when some girl decided to walk right in front of our photo. This is my real life reaction - try to deny the fact that I have the strongest side eye game. I mean, maybe I'm a bitch, but don't fucking walk in front of my photo when I'm looking this good? Rude. 

Amidst the dancing and drinking (unlimited juice), I looked out the window and saw that the Bellagio Fountains were on. I was in awe - low key, I used to YouTube them and watch how beautiful they were. To be able to see them from the inside of an amazing club while being fawned over with VIP service was the actual dream. I was freaking out. 

Then, the best part of the evening happened. The fucking ceiling started to rain money. I flipped. Apparently it isn't classy to take the money but, when the ceiling starts raining hundreds of dollars, who gives a fuck about being classy? Not this chick. I was so proud of myself when I caught two dollars. However, when it started to rain money again, I wasn't as cool, calm, or collected. I began to pick the money off the floor. I saw two more dollars by the foot of a large, very intimidating man, but two dollars is two dollars so I looked him dead in the eye and said "are you gunna take that...?" We both looked at the dollars lying on his shoe then looked back in each others eyes. Then, shamelessly, I bent down and took the two dollars and ran. I can't decide if it's one of my proudest moments or most embarrassing but I came out strong with a solid eight dollars. But here's where I get bad... The ceiling began to rain one last time and, as I was sober, small, and agile, I fucking dove for that shit. I was diving on the floor, scooping up dollar bills. They're all mine! The drunk girls tried to pick them up but they weren't as coordinated as me. I got all of the money. Jordan came up behind me and said "Maura, I just did something really Jewish... I just dove on the floor for a dollar bill." As I began to turn around, she saw that I easily had $40 in singles in my hands. I think I did a Jewish thing as well, my friend. But people were going nuts. These three girls at the table next to ours got a frickin kick out of me and asked to take my money hungry picture for their snapchat. High on cash fumes, I agreed, flaunting my money for the whole damn world to see. This is what pride feels like. 

The ceiling later rained glitter as we danced the night away. Steph got a flawlessly timed photo of her being fabulous in the club that I was very jealous of. Clearly, mine is not as flawless but a girl can dream. After another long night, it was time to head back and snack our faces off. Jordan and I were two of the last in the club so we headed home by ourselves, obviously stopping (as per always) at the slots (because she wouldn't let me play the table games). 

Remember that $40 that I got from the money-raining ceiling? Bye. Immediately. All of it. I figured, since it wasn't really my money, I might as well fucking loose it all. God, I love gambling. My mom always says - "I have one alcoholic and one with a gambling problem." Yep, that would be my sister and I, respectively. Every mother's dream. That picture of me on the right, being the happiest human that every existed, is a photo of me holding my voucher for $1.07. That 7 cents was the only profit I made throughout the whole trip which apparently "doesn't count" because I lost about $400. Jerks.

We made our way home and, when I woke up, all of my roommates had already went home. Which like wtf because I was AGAIN the only one who didn't drink and I was the only one who could not physically be bothered to wake up in the morning.  As I went to check out, disheveled and pretty ready to die, at 10 am, the hotel was playing fucking Party Rock Anthem. Do you want to know what no one in Vegas wants to hear at 10 am? Probably Party Rock Anthem. It was a rough one and a long drive home to my precious bed. But damn, it was fucking worth it. 

You win, Vegas. You win. 

Baby's First Night in Vegas!

At the ripe age of 22, I finally took my birthright trip to Las Vegas - a rite of passage for young people everywhere. Conveniently, I only live a few hours drive away and had my entire trip planned for me by someone else so all I had to do was pay $160 and pack my bags. We hopped in the car and headed from LA to LV and 4 hours of a lot of desert later, we arrived on the strip, not nearly as ready to party as we were to nap. HOWEVER, it was time to party so we suited up in our Monday best and hit the strip. 

We started the evening at PBR where the bow came off and I began to dance in cages. "When in Vegas," they say... "Tits out for Alfa Lloyd," as Jordan would say. The women of Delta Zeta were ready to fuckin go. After some drinks and a plate of potato skins, we were on the way to get our groove on. 

We were greeted by the shiny, fancy, expensive looking lobby of The Cosmopolitan. I already knew I was interested. This was what really sealed the deal for me after Steph described Vegas as "Disneyland for adults." Wasn't sure that Vegas was going to be for me but, let me frickin tell you, VIP treatment in any situation is DEFINITELY for me. Shoutout to JusCollege - you rock my world for this hook up. 

All 38 sorority girls walked into Marquee in style to be greeted by several women dancing for us in lingerie, ready to pour us drinks and be slaves to us for all hours of the night. As I am allergic to fun, however, I was pretty stoked about the unlimited juice that was provided by these sexy women. Jordan, not being allergic to fun, ran into the club declaring that she was ready to fight someone if we did not have more than 3 bottles. Jordan, later, (although we had unlimited bottles) found joy in pretending she was parts of other parties and drinking their alcohol. This is why she is bae. 

Amidst the dance floor, we were surrounded by some kind of old people corporate party. It was like fucking Brian's birthday or something so they all decided to rage. Raging the hardest of them all was an 80 year old Asian woman in a turtle neck. She was getting down with her bad, old self on the dance floor. It was incredible. What was even more incredible was when Jordan spotted her, she went up and danced with her!  I tried to capture the moment but grandma caught on and covered herself. Sad moment. 

The night was a lot of fun with a lot of friends. I got my dance on and enjoyed the confinement of our private table where creepy men could barely even look at me. That is something that I'm interested in - avoiding human interaction. After Jordan began to get violent with her light up stick and beating some random woman to get the fuck out of our private table, we decided it was best to leave. Also because we were hungry. (Mostly because we were hungry). On our walk back to the hotel we were greeted by a lot of interesting people. One guy approached us and said "hey, you ladies like to party?" I bluntly responded, "no. we hate parties." Jordan, even more bluntly, responded, "NO. WE ARE MORMONS. WE'RE HERE WITH OUR CHURCH. HOW DARE YOU?!" It was a truly magical moment.

We got back to the Paris Hotel and decided to gamble all of our money away on the slots because Jordan, REGARDLESS OF THE FACT THAT SHE GREW UP IN LAS VEGAS, had never gambled before. Which, as an excessive gambler, I found extremely offensive. I came out with a good ol' 7 cents and decided to call it a night. We grabbed some snacks and headed to the room. The room in which Jordan and I were sharing a bed. A bed in which she told me earlier in the night that "if she rolled over and found a bowl of pasta under her pillow, she was gunna be pissed." A BED IN WHICH SHE PROCEEDED TO MAKE IT CONFETTI COOL RANCH DORITOS IN! Ahh, life is an amazing thing, my friends. And Vegas is an amazing place. Night one was a success.