The trip started out with a game. We were in Vegas so we had to bet on something and since none of us are “real” gamblers we pick something different each year in which to throw our hard-earned cash. This year the game was called “Finding the One”.
How it works is we all put 5 bucks in the pot and whoever finds the “One” gets the money. The “One” is not Keanu Reeves. The “One” is a male specimen, so perfect that all of us agree that his hair, face, body, demeanor and voice are alluring and pleasing to the point that we all stop and take note. If he is perfect in everyway but is missing any one of these elements then he is not the One”. So you can see how Keanu cannot possible be the “One”. The other rule is that this person cannot make money from his good looks. So movie stars, Chippendale dancers and models are immediately eliminated. This has to be a real person that is somewhat within a typical girl’s reach.
P.S. I am pretty sure Satori is the “One”, but he must not have been in Vegas last weekend.
Once off the plane, growling stomachs grew louder and we soon found ourselves walking the streets of Vegas in search of sponge cake. We started to notice the scent of shrimp boiling and found a loan salt shaker on its side in the gutter. Then suddenly my shoe fell apart as the sound of a blender filled the air. I knew I was going to have to take the blame but I ordered a margarita anyway and we all settled into a fun lunch at Margaritaville on the corner of the Flamingo Hotel and Casino.
Once filled with fried food (I only had 1 french-fry) and tequila (I only had 1 margarita) we made our way back to the hotel’s hot tubs. Again there were drinks all around and I choose to have only one. Video-poker produced yet another beverage and dinner at the Rum Jungle provided wine. One glass of wine with skewers of meat sliced onto plates and served with beans, rice, couscous and other Brazilian dishes. Then the lights went out and Nikki started 2 grind. Girls were launched onto platforms and into cylindrical cages, dressed in bikini tops and short, short, sport shorts with go-go boots. This ensemble was embellished head to toe with glow-in-the-dark green mesh and the girls gyrated to techno beats that seemed to repeat over and over again in my head until Advil was showing advertisements in between beats. I ordered a chocolate cocktail.
One drink at a time turned into a total of 8. While this is more than I wanted to drink, I did not get drunk and stupid, which is my normal mode-of-operation. Instead I felt pleasantly buzzed most of the afternoon. While falling asleep I was suddenly aware that I had not put the lamps, the ironing board and all the chairs in the hotel room on my bed to stop it from spinning in circles. Was it possible that I would make it through this weekend without re-arranging the hotel room?
To be continued…..
How it works is we all put 5 bucks in the pot and whoever finds the “One” gets the money. The “One” is not Keanu Reeves. The “One” is a male specimen, so perfect that all of us agree that his hair, face, body, demeanor and voice are alluring and pleasing to the point that we all stop and take note. If he is perfect in everyway but is missing any one of these elements then he is not the One”. So you can see how Keanu cannot possible be the “One”. The other rule is that this person cannot make money from his good looks. So movie stars, Chippendale dancers and models are immediately eliminated. This has to be a real person that is somewhat within a typical girl’s reach.
P.S. I am pretty sure Satori is the “One”, but he must not have been in Vegas last weekend.
Once off the plane, growling stomachs grew louder and we soon found ourselves walking the streets of Vegas in search of sponge cake. We started to notice the scent of shrimp boiling and found a loan salt shaker on its side in the gutter. Then suddenly my shoe fell apart as the sound of a blender filled the air. I knew I was going to have to take the blame but I ordered a margarita anyway and we all settled into a fun lunch at Margaritaville on the corner of the Flamingo Hotel and Casino.
Once filled with fried food (I only had 1 french-fry) and tequila (I only had 1 margarita) we made our way back to the hotel’s hot tubs. Again there were drinks all around and I choose to have only one. Video-poker produced yet another beverage and dinner at the Rum Jungle provided wine. One glass of wine with skewers of meat sliced onto plates and served with beans, rice, couscous and other Brazilian dishes. Then the lights went out and Nikki started 2 grind. Girls were launched onto platforms and into cylindrical cages, dressed in bikini tops and short, short, sport shorts with go-go boots. This ensemble was embellished head to toe with glow-in-the-dark green mesh and the girls gyrated to techno beats that seemed to repeat over and over again in my head until Advil was showing advertisements in between beats. I ordered a chocolate cocktail.
One drink at a time turned into a total of 8. While this is more than I wanted to drink, I did not get drunk and stupid, which is my normal mode-of-operation. Instead I felt pleasantly buzzed most of the afternoon. While falling asleep I was suddenly aware that I had not put the lamps, the ironing board and all the chairs in the hotel room on my bed to stop it from spinning in circles. Was it possible that I would make it through this weekend without re-arranging the hotel room?
To be continued…..
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