Half Naked Men Are Cool

WARNING: IF YOU ARE MY PARENTS YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ THIS. I'M STILL A PERFECT ANGEL, BUT, SOME OF THE ACTIVITIES WE PARTICIPATED IN WERE FOR THE SAKE OF THE BLOG.

Ok, now that that's out of the way, shall I continue?

Viva Las Vegas!!!!!

Wow. Where do I start?

Vegas was fun from the moment we rolled out of Marina del Rey to the moment we pimped back in. Full of fun, adventure, new knowledge, lots of mostly-naked men and jackpots. Although the entire time was outrageous, for the sake of your eyeballs (and my fingers), I'm only going to focus in on Friday.

The trip out to Vegas (we drove) was the typical LA-Vegas drive - traffic sucked. But, with three girls raring to go, we managed to have a great time. First, we stalked two Nevada K-9 cops in their K-9 Tahoes. The first one was not-so-hot but the second one was a looker. We entertained him through traffic by dancing in our seats, writing him notes on paper such as K's phone number and "Meet Us At Wendy's" (real mature, eh?). Unfortunately, K's car is only a 4-banger. So when we hit the inclines we all had to lean forward to give the car a little more "umph" which was unsuccessful in keeping up with the V-8 K-9 Tahoes. Dang. We are still on the prowl for Nevada K-9 car #493 - so if you see him, please let us know - he didn't meet us at Wendy's.

But speaking of Wendy's, the trip got off to a great start (me and my big mouth) at a rest-stop in Barstow. After placing our order at Wendy's (we were apparently obsessed), I got a little confused as to whether we wanted it "to go" or "for here" - this is often a challenging moment when traveling in groups. While the other two had decided on "for here" I had requested "to go". When they brought my mistake to light, I said (across the restaurant, mind you): "Oh. Ok. I was just trying to save time. But, no worries. I can shove this down my throat really fast." Oops. Rachel's face goes from tan to beat red without passing "Go". The needle goes off the record and all the grungy, disgusting old men whip around to stare at me. The girls fall to the floor laughing and I just shrug my shoulders and say "Oops, inside voice." This is hour 2 of the trip.

For the remainder of the drive, we choreographed dances to Britney, gave ourselves "Vegas" names: I was Alexis, E was Britney, and K was Babs. (No one actually uses their real names in Vegas - duh.) At last, after 7 hours of traffic, we made it to Vegas. Glitz and debauchery was all around us.

K's friend was getting married on Saturday, so, we decided to show her a good time (even if she was uber-preggos) and take her out for a traditional bachelorette party. And we all know where to have those - STRIPS CLUBS. On a strong recommendation from my friend Stacy (bachelorette party planner extrodinaire) we hopped in a blue limo (compliments of the club) and rolled on over to THE OG: Olympic Garden (men upstairs/women downstairss). The moment we entered it was nothing but a feast for the eyes. As K pointed out yesterday, "THE OG was a life-altering experience." I'd have to say, the evening ranked right up there in the Top 5 best times EVER.

To keep things brief, I never ever liked male strip clubs. Something about watching them do the helicopter with their thingies just never appealed to me. But, it was different at THE OG. It was hysterically funny, sexy and overall, an empowering experience for a group of women. It was also more empowering for us because I convinced the waiter and the manager that we were famous soap opera stars, so, we received VIP treatment all the way. I wanted to make sure that my "real" name was kept a secret, so, I assured the waiter he would get a fat tip if he kept my "real" name (off my license and credit card) confidential. When he asked "What is your stage name and what are you in?" I responded with, "Due to the surroundings and the image I need to maintain, I'm going to keep that to myself." Wow. That was fun - love being a pseudo celeb! Please, no autographs - I think I may have actually said that - ha ha.

And I would like to point out that male lap dances are WAY different than female lap dances. For one, the woman receiving the dance just laughs her ass off the entire time. Two, the strippers ENCOURAGE you to touch them (although, I'm not a fan of that - afraid of the herpes and the hivs). Three, the dancers WANT you to take pictures - of anything you like. And I'll tell you what. Some of the things they "had" could take up a full camera lens - holy moly.

So, basically, we've decided that we will be having every known event (birthdays, bachelorette parties, new job parties, first of the month parties) at THE OG. We also have decided that the three of us are going to start our own "I THE OG" line of clothing and bumper stickers AND open our very own OG in LA - our parents will be so proud!!

When we finally pulled ourselves away from THE OG, we managed to tear it up throughout the strip for another two nights. On the second night, K and I even hit a mega-jackpot - or so we thought. While playing "tag team" slot machine (two people on one machine - we had a strategy), we nailed the "jackpot" - $60!!!! You would have thought that we won $1 million. We were screaming and yelling and hugging and jumping up and down. Hey - we're easily amused. We even considered taking our winnings and heading back to THE OG - since, um, have I mentioned that's our new favorite place? But we didn't. We cut our losses, ran to the cashier and demanded them to cash-out our mega-winnings. Talk about loose slots.

The remainder of the weekend was full of maturity and responsible behaviors. I even learned (since we were staying at the Luxor) that Jews built the Pyramids. I was so excited about it - I said to a bunch of people in the elevator (that were obviously not from the US): "Isn't it GREAT that Jews built the Pyramids?!" I also told our cabbies, the bartenders, bouncers, blackjack dealers - anyone I could find. All I wanted to do was share the truth. Amusing my friends was merely a bonus.

But, like all good things, the weekend came to an end. As we waved good-bye to the Luxor and THE OG and the place where one of us puked up Red Bull and Vodka, and wiped away the tears of sorrow for the memories past, we knew that is was back to the real world - Los Angeles.

After 5 hours of traffic, K pulled up (over the curb actually) to the parking lot and we tearfully embraced. We had done it: we all walked away herpes-free, semi-sober, no new tattoos, still not married, and a little delirious.

It was an A+ weekend. OG FOREVER.