What Happens In Vegas…

I’m alive!!! I’M ALLIIIIIVVEEEE!!!! Barely. I managed to crawl out from my den of blankets, pillows and Kleenex to pen this quick piece so that all of you will know those Vegas commercials lie. Not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

Let me start from the beginning.

My family is very close and we’re all finally 21 years of age and over. We’ve been planning this party from the first time one of us was old enough to go to Vegas and come back alive with stories to share around the Family Chaos campfire. We picked the first weekend after Kai turned 21 which was January 7th-9th of this year. What we didn’t know was that also happened to be the same weekend CES was in town along with the Adult Entertainment convention.

Yup. Freaks and Geeks came out to play with Family Chaos (that’s what we call ourselves. Long story behind that one).

I’ve never seen a crazier mix of people. Not to say my family is normal (one of us is preggers and she still came out to party. No, she did not drink any liquor nor did she smoke. She more or less just laughed at our drunk asses the whole weekend) so we actually fit right in.

The first night was spent tearing it up at XS and where I had the most fun. I don’t know why I’ve never clubbed sober before. By “sober”, I mean I only had 2 drinks and a shot of Patron. I had a blast pointing at the drunktards and laughing my ass off. Case in point are the Cellulite Twins and the Creepy Pr0n Actor.

Ladies. Ladies, ladies, ladies. Cellulite is no friend of mine but here’s what I do know. If my thighs are dimpled enough to warrant comparison to the surface of the moon, the last place you’ll ever find me is on stage swinging like a monkey on the stripper pole. I don’t care if you’re a porn star or THINK you’re a porn star for the night.

It is not sexy to have every dent and dimple on your arms and spread eagled legs highlighted under unflattering over head spotlights for all the club to see.

And all those people looking at you? Yeah. They’re not admiring you and your unsteady attempts at the sexy dance. It’s because they’re laughing at you.

It is also not sexy when I see a beefy man with no fashion sense (he was wearing a too-small shirt that looked like someone stitched a cowboy shirt together with a cop uniform and shrunk it. Not. Hawt) SHOVE HIS FACE ALL UP IN THERE between the legs of one of the Cellulite Twins when she’s fulfilling her dreams of being a porn star for the night. I’m not kidding. I wish I was making this up. I’m not. Oh yeah. When they were finally done with the pole, I was about to throw up because the pole was now crusty as hell. * gag *

There was also this black porn dude dancing in the same stage as Creepy Pr0n Actor and Cellulite Twins. He kept grabbing and stroking his groin. Dude. There’s a time and place for that. Lay off Mr. Winky because not everyone needs to see you manhandle yourself, mmkaythxbye.

I now suddenly understood why drivers gawk at random accidents on the freeway. You just can’t turn away. I found myself staring at them in disbelief and more sure than ever in my belief that Darwinism is dead in terms of the human race.

And then I saw the geeks. Omfg, they were so cute!!! They were all wearing gray suits and hopping up and down on the seats in their booth. I’m being completely serious. One of them even fell over backwards and was waving his little legs in the air trying to get back up. They are so cute. I totally wanted to party with them. They looked like they were having a good time.

I did manage to see ONE devastatingly gorgeous bombshell of a blond work the pole like a true professional. This was right after I saw a girl try to dance like an exotic dancer and fail because she fell on her head. Ouch. This is why I firmly think any person who wants to dance up on a pole at a club must first take and pass a breathalyzer. This will greatly reduce liability for a club, in my opinion, and spare many drunk girls from having their FML moments broadcast for all eternity on the Internet.

The next night was spent at Tryst. I know it’s not the hot club but I don’t care. I love it there. The people are chill, the music is beyond awesome and the waitresses are hot. I had a blast.

What I did not anticipate was coming home with the mother of the flu. I felt like my bones were melting and my lungs were full of mutant green crap. This is proof that what happens in Vegas does not stay there. My cousin, Zoolander, is who I think got us all sick. My sister, my brother and Kai all had fevers. I have it the worst. I feel like I need to be quarantined or something.

So let this be a warning to you. I got off lucky with just the flu because there’s nothing you can really do to protect yourself besides getting vaccinated (which I did). Moral of this story? Always use protection because you just never know and why be sorry when you can be safe? Yes, I’m talking about condoms.

Sorry about being all over the place. My brain’s still feeling kind of fried.

Oh yeah. Know what else I walked out of Vegas with? $1300, baybee. Fresh of the craps tables. w00t!!!

Bonnie N. Clyde is a writer for YouBentMyWookie.com and the alias of the Supreme Commander / Ultimate Destroyer. When she isn’t gawking at wannabe pornstars and then blogging about then, she writes in her blog over at MissBonnified.com

Source: Images courtesy of Ethan Miller/Getty Images Entertainment