Now that I'm home and showered...

I'm not sure where to start with this past weekend in Vegas. I survived, how about that? It was the drunken whirlwind people in their 20s expect it to be.

Friday night we arrived - and like any classy broads would do, we proceeded to mix vodka drinks in water bottles and munch on peanuts while we got ready in our hotel room. We then dashed to the Rio, already late, to meet our friend who does advertising in the Vegas area. This is a chick I haven't seen in 8-years. So what do we do? We end up at a Chippendales show at the Rio (comped tickets, we couldn't turn them down!) and three drinks later we're best friends again. This is the point I thought it was a fabulous idea to text my father to tell him that "Hey, Dad! I'm at a Chippendales Show!" Yeah, no response. The show? It was raunchy and extremely corny, as expected.

Moving on. We then went to Pure nightclub where we seamlessly cut the entire ladies line and squeezed our way in to a VIP table with bottle service. We danced on top of white couches and when I needed water I got charged $8 for four Fiji ounces. Thanks, Vegas!

And did I mention how much it hurts to be a woman!? Heels. Hurt.

Our days were boring compared to our nights, so I'll just skip Saturday day. Saturday night we dined at Spago (I would go back, again and again, just for the heirloom tomato soup). Throughout dinner we gawked at a table of greasy middle aged men with girls that looked like they were barely 18. Why don't they think escort service is embarrassing? After, we saw Zumanity at New York-New York (amazing!) and then went to the piano bar in our hotel where we sang like we were actually good at it.

Four in the morning brought us to the classic Vegas breakfast joint where we had the most intelligent conversation. My friend gave me a very serious face.

"Jo. See those guys over there?"

"Yup."

"Well, Jo. There are three of them. And...there are THREE of us."

I just gave her a look of deep appreciation and thought. My lightbulb, it was trotting along on the back-up generator at this point.

"Well," she continued. "How about we send them something."

"A note!" I declared.

See evidence. How to Pick Up on a Guy in Vegas at a Cheap Breakfast Buffet 101:

If you can't make it out our brilliant words:

Did you know it's National Friendship Week!?! We will buy you a round of O.J. (if you are having breakfast).

We are serious.

Sunday my friend and I gave our last hour in Vegas a toast as we shared a bottle of chianti at the Venetian. She was feeling so great that on the way back to our hotel she thought our revolving door was done revolving and ran at the glass trying to get out. And I was feeling so great that I didn't even notice, aside from the "UGH!" and the loud smacking of skin against glass.

Viva Las Vegas!