Because I was on a super secret assignment last week, I was unable to keep you guys abreast of my plans and whereabouts. The jig is up now though so here’s the skinny. You remember the DB’s, I’m sure. Me, Jane, Stacy and Schell. Lifelong friends that have been thick as thieves for almost 22 years. You’ve read about our travels and the Red Shirt Diaries.
Well, we added another chapter to the book this past weekend with a surprise visit to Las Vegas to surprise dear Stacy on her 40th (about damn time) birthday. It was a whirlwind trip, to say the least. I was there a little bit shy of 48 hours. That’s a long way to go for less than two days, folks, but it was worth every hangover and dark under eye circle.
We ate at Wolfgang Puck’s fancy-ass steakhouse. We shared a room with two of our gay BFF’s from Hollywood so you can imagine the hilarity there. GOD HELP ME. We hit the Strip. We danced at Tao. We gambled. Well, I tried anyway. We, and by we I mean me, may have passed out ( I prefer to call it a “disco nap”) on Saturday afternoon and upon waking up at 8PM, thought it was 8 o’clock the next morning. Oops. Now I’m not going to blame this solely on the drugs and the midget we picked up, after all a 3 hour time difference is a big jump when you’re talking Vegas nightlife. I was exhausted the entire time I was there and maybe drinking at breakfast wasn’t a good idea. Maybe.
So, I’ve spent the last few days detoxing, catching up on sleep and “un-tagging” myself in waaaay too many Facebook photos. Bitches.
Let’s be clear. I am, by no stretch of the imagination, an adult. And neither are my friends when we’re together. Did I fail to mention that Ben and I *may* have gotten the giggles inside the Titanic exhibit? How’s that for class? People love it when you get hysterical in a somber watery grave, let me tell ya. We are clearly bad people. Bad people that found the replication of the Titanic horn to be awfully close to a really loud obnoxious belch. And this, we would know.
But now I’m back to reality and back to my diet and exercise program and although I tried to kill myself in a scant two day time frame, think I’m ready to roll forward, engorged liver and all. Yay me! Also, to anyone that came within a 3 ft radius of me on any of my flights or in person, I apologize. I must have smelled like a smoky drunken Orangutan . At least that’s how I looked.
Clearly, I need rules and constant supervision. Happy 40th Stace!