It took me 6 HOURS to drive to Las Vegas.
The trip is suppose to only take 4 1/2 hours but with traffic and Yahoo maps sending me on a wild goose chase for my hotel, it ended up taking 6 hours. Did I also happen to mention that the air conditioner in my car stopped working about one hour into the trip? Which really wasn't bad while I was driving but most of the time I was sitting in traffic and car doubled as a sauna.
But as usual, Positive Me reminded myself that at least I was losing water weight.
Yeah. Even I was like, What the hell?! Positive Me has some nerve...but I was retaining water (Aunt Flo's reminder that she's coming and hell's coming with her) so the sweating was kind of good and Postive Me is so chipper, you just can't get mad at that bitch.
So anywhoo, by the time I got to my hotel, it was 9:00 pm. I was hot, sweaty, tired and my ass was numb. I looked and felt like I had just trudged through Africa....or Rosie O'Donnell had sat on me for six hours... same thing. I was tempted to just call my friend Belinda and tell her I'd meet up with her tomorrow. The Four Queens hotel room was a sight for sore ass.
There was a flat screen t.v., a lovely view of Fremont Street (I was in downtown Las Vegas), plush queen sized bed, room service just waiting for me to call and pay $11.00 for three chicken strips.....It took all my strength not to crawl under the covers, watch T.V. and order room service. But no, I was only there until Sunday so I had to start the fun asap.
I showered off my road ass funk, got dressed and took a taxi (I was SOOO over driving at this point) to The Palms Casino. I met up with Belinda and much to our surprise...we did that girly squealing thing when we saw each other...how embarassing ...but hey, I hadn't seen her in 5 years so a little squeal was in order. It was also Belinda's birthday that day and she had been working her way to a nice buzz since 12 in the afternoon. By the time I got there, she was rearin to go and there's nothing like watching Belinda when she's three sheets to the wind.
Our first stop, the Ghost Bar at the Palms, which is like on the 57th floor of the building with an outdoor balcony where you can see all of Las Vegas. It's so very Posh Beckham. Here's a picture of the balcony:
The bad news is that the line was forever long and usually the line of 'regular folks' have to stand around with a thumb up their ass while the VIP and Guest List folks breezed right in.
But I knew Belinda would pull us through. A little drunk talk and booby shake to the doorman got us into the VIP line and we were all in a tizzy.
Until I reached into my pocket and realized that, in my rush to start partying and my brilliant idea of not hauling around my purse lest it interfere with my dancing skills, I had only taken my credit card and my room key.
No driver's license/I.D. = no entrance into the club.
Can Elaine manage to sweet talk her way into the club with no I.D.?
Does she have to do a midget boobie shake to get in?
Does she have to trudge all the way back to her hotel ??!?!
If so, how is she going to get back into the VIP line?!?!?!
Was Crystal Pepsi really THAT bad?
Stay tuned .......
(yes yes, its to be continued, don't get pissy...I have work from my actual job that pays ya know!? I must finish my work in order not to dishonor the family.
Well okay, the whole dishonor the family thing isn't really true..I just said that because I just watched Mulan.)
You really must learn to just ignore me sometimes.