Monday, March 2, 2009

I really need to be rich.

I realize that money won't solve everyone's problems, but I resigned myself to the fact that I have expensive tastes. I can be happy with a Cup O' Noodles, but I get damn near orgasmic over a good lobster or an American Kobe steak. I love limos. And VIP lists. And hotel suites.
And I wouldn't say I'm above marrying for money, but I'm not nearly skinny enough to have my pick (and I love food a little too much to go down THAT road again, though I do aim for a size 10 in the next couple months) of millionaires, which means that I need to do something incredibly fantastic or I need to be a limo driver (apparently they make 3 grand a night) or a stripper (and you can own a BMW and a house and send your kid to college) and I can have it made.

Fault my logic? It's true. I learned this in Las Vegas this weekend, when me and my little sister finally brought together my engaged sister and eight of her nearest and dearest for one weekend of (tasteful) debauchery and (innocent)lewd, expensive entertainment.

I didn't sleep at all.

I was also possibly the only female under thirty at the Rio Hotel who went running on Saturday morning after a night partying at Voodoo Lounge. But that's because I was a wimp and left early, only to be woken up at 4AM by two returning party animals. I really am bitter I was not born with the party girl gene.

I also discovered that it's impossible to keep to a schedule when there is alcohol, feather boas, and women involved. Hangovers and lack of sleep will always interfere with even the best-laid plans, and becoming best buds with Eddie the limo driver is the best way to avoid getting stranded anywhere.

Also? Next time I will invest in ear plugs, because if I thought I was deaf before...

But the good news? The bachelorette had a good time. The guests had a good time, and although my arms are sore from pole dancing, I'm dehydrated from alcohol, and my feet ACHE from unforgiving heels, there is something to be said for the lure of the glamour of Las Vegas.

Oh, sin city. I heart you so.

I just wish I was rich.

Because you drain me dry.

1 comment:

  1. I really am bitter I was not born with the party girl gene.

    You don't need a gene for that, we can train you. I promise.