A couple of weeks ago, a friend talked me into going on a completely unplanned trip to Las Vegas with her because it was her birthday. She said she'd buy my plane ticket and rent the hotel room. What she DIDN'T say is that she had been seeing a guy who just happens to live in Vegas, and that she was going to meet up with him once we hit town. Which...okay. I don't really have a problem with because you are allowed to do whatever you want with your twat as long as it doesn't affect me.
But let's just say that we all go back to the room to watch TV. And I fall asleep, because it's Vegas, I've been drinking and I'm hot and tired and slightly hungover from the previous night where I stupidly went out and SAID I was going to leave around 9 because I had an early day planned and then didn't leave until after midnight after having one tequila shot too many, and I wake up to SEX SOUNDS but since I'm in the room and you are FORTY-FUCKING-SOMETHING years old I KNOW this can't be happening, BUT IT IS. I AM REALLY LYING HERE PRETENDING TO BE SLEEPING WHILE YOU BANG THIS GUY IN THE BED not even 2 feet from my bed. So then I fall back asleep in self-defense before I spontaneously explode and/or completely go ape shit because I can't even believe this really happened.** I guess I didn't know this was something I need to say but, for the record:
I leave in a huff because REALLY? Who does that? You call me. And after I tell you about yourself, I *still* have to tell you that this dude is not spending the night?
I guess we can agree that at this point, her cooch is interfering with my good time, yes? I am forced to stage an intervention, and remind
The rest of the weekend was not horrible. She ditched the dude after that, and the next day we went over to the Hard Rock to gamble and flirt with cute boys. I even managed to bring home my spending money. Although, I suspect it was only because they knew I would be returning the next week and knew that it would hurt more when they snatched it away on my next trip out. (Note: it did. OUCH)
Still though, I can never really have a BAD time in Vegas. But if figures that the one time it would have been totally awesome to have been so drunk that I have NO memory of the things that went on my weekend in Vegas, I remember EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL. Gah!
**Also, I would like to mention that porn with people that I don't know on a DVD that I can turn on/off when I want to see it? OK. Unrequested, spontaneous live-action porn starring friends? Not. OK. EVAR.
***AND, after the profuse apologizing, she bought us tickets to see The Lion King. A show I HIGHLY recommend you go see. For serious.