EPIC RECAP: What happens in Vegas does not stay...

...because Sin City will always, ALWAYS, steal your voice (and your morals, and your soul), and you will end up dying at your desk on Monday, attempting to answer the phone while sounding like a seventy year old sexy smoker.

WORTH IT THOUGH.

So hello, friends! I am back in the real world. There were shenanigans. There was scandalous behavior. There were injuries and material losses. And memories were made.

A DISCLAIMER:

Do not read this post if you are related to me (HI DAD!), or wish to believe I am a pure and delicate flower who would never ever make out in hotel lobbies at three am and get scolded for it by security guards because apparently you are offending the elderly, who should really be in bed at three am.  

Okay? Okay.

Proceeding!

Let's start at the very beginning, shall we?  Look what necessities I bought before heading to the airport. Band-Aids, glitter nail polish, and shaving cream. Vegas perfection, right?

So my flight was delayed on Thursday, 'cause OF COURSE, but Thumper ever so brilliantly suggested I try to get on standby, and I ended up on an earlier flight. That boy is wise. I would never have thought to do that, because I have no life skills. I managed to arrive an hour early and met up with two of my favorite ladies at the airport. We taxied ourselves to the Trump International, all atwitter with excitement, ready and prepared to take on the town.

These are the texts I sent to Thumper over the next hour:

Yup. "In the cab" to "drunk" to "cannot spell and needy" in the course of an hour. VEGAS.

Oh, so did I tell you I ended up buying a second dress? I did. It was only $12, practically free.

Check it out! You can't quite see the detail of the peplum in the actual Vegas shots so I included the selfie from my shopping expedition. I heart this dress.

So we got drunk and we got fancy, and headed out to the new hot spot Hakkasan at the MGM, where we were on the VIP list because we are important. We walked right the fuck in. Buh bye, line! And then...we danced. We danced, and shimmied, and got our groove on, and boogied, and got down, and DANCED. And then...I met a boy.

(Yes, yes, I realize I've been seeing Thumper for awhile now, but we have had no discussion of exclusivity or commitment and...it's VEGAS. So...no shame here. Nope.)

What happened was: I saw his adorable, bearded self behind Mantana, and I yelled to her, "GIRL. THERE IS A HOTTIE BEHIND YOU THAT YOU SHOULD DANCE WITH." Because in my mind, he was wayyyyyyy too cute for me. So imagine my surprise when he circled our group and came up behind me, and Mantana pushed me into him, and he started dancing with me. My inner fifteen year old was so excited y'all! I turned around to introduce myself, and not only did it turn out he lives in LA near me, it turned out he was super smart and super nice and super, super into me. Later we discussed this first interaction and he said I looked "incredible" on the dance floor and he was "intimidated" and I was like "wutnow?" So you know...I have no self-awareness whatsoever.

So, we danced. Then we went and got midnight breakfast with our friends. Then we made out in the aforementioned lobby until we were scolded and removed. And then, we played blackjack until he lost a sufficient amount of money (like, lots, he even offered to bankroll me). THEN, as we strolled down the Strip hand in hand, still not sick of each other nor remotely tired, he offered to get us a room.

"That sounds great, but I don't want you expecting anything," I said, ever so primly. Because I am not that kind of girl, gentle readers. No, I'm only the kind of girl who makes out in lobbies.

"I'm not expecting anything," he insisted. "I just want to spend more time with you."

*swoon*

So, a room it was. We talked, and made out, and cuddled. Then slept. He was very gentlemanly. He woke me up in the morning to say goodbye, since he was heading out that day back to LA. He asked for my number. I dozed as he got dressed to leave, and out of the corner of my sleepy eye I watched as he carefully hung up my dress.

So. Fucking. Adorable.

I slept a bit more, then dragged myself out of bed. My walk of shame was decorated with high fives from guys working on the Strip, and a kindly older woman in an elevator saying, "I hope you had fun, dear!" Also, my dress felt a lot shorter in the daylight.

I got back to the room to find one of the girls had gone to the gym, which, what the fuck man, and another one had just arrived home before me, shoeless. Yes, she had also stayed the night in a boy's room, and woken up without her footwear. God only knows, people. VEGAS.

Other things of note from that night: three out of the eight girls got their phones stolen/lost at Hakkasan, which is apparently a huge problem there according to Yelp reviews. Another group of girls we met had seven out of eight phones go missing. Way shitty. So the tally was three lost phones, a lost pair of shoes, and some lost dignity if we count my removal from the hotel lobby for inappropriate behavior.

And that? Was just Night #1. Night #2, another phone went missing, and more dignity was lost. Not mine.

Friday, half of us went to Daylight at Mandalay Bay for a pool party, where we partook in free drinks and sunshine.

From there, we headed to the Wynn, where the second incident of "inappropriateness via Taylor" occurred. See, apparently the buffet at the Wynn has a strict dress code, which yours truly wasn't following. My bathing suit coverup was not "opaque" enough. AKA, I was dressed like a slut. So I had to add Mantana's glittery cover-up as a second layer to be deemed appropriate for entry. I looked ridiculous. God, I was just a hussy all over the place this weekend.

After gorging ourselves at the buffet, there was an epic nap. EPIC.

And then...well. Thumper was supposed to be meeting up with us before we headed out for the night. He did not. He blew me off. Which earned him a place on my drunken shit list. I was not happy. Like come ON, bro. This is what you were missing out on.

RIGHT? Look at that side boob. Fail, Thumper. Fail. No sideboob for you.

Well I guess, considering the night I had prior, I suppose I shouldn't have been too upset, right? But I still gave him shit. Because I was not pleased. At least he knew he failed, he was very apologetic. He says he'll make it up to me. We'll see.

Night #2 we had pooled our money for bottle service at Body English at the Hard Rock, 'cause we wanted to feel like ballers. Plus, there was a music festival in Vegas this weekend, and we were worried about crowds (turns out it wasn't a huge deal, but whatever). So we headed to the casino and met up with our promoter, who was an adorable little thing in a cute red dress. We enjoyed some two for one drinks at the lounge before heading into the club, where there was a free champagne bar and we got a table right on the dance floor.

AND THEN WE DANCED.

And that's about all I remember...

Although apparently drunk me very responsibly got myself back to the hotel and into bed fully clothed. And I did get all my things in my suitcase (minus my iPod, which is being mailed to me). Go, Drunk Taylor!

I woke up Saturday to my alarm making WAY TOO MUCH NOISE at 6:30am. My flight was at 9. Everyone else was staying for a third night, but I had teacher training at 2, so I scrambled my shit together, rolled myself out of the hotel and into a cab, and got to the airport by 7 or so.

Then...my flight was cancelled. Not delayed. Flat. Out. Cancelled.

I cried.

Just the day before, I had joked that I wanted my flight to get cancelled. BUT NOT ONCE I WAS ALREADY AT THE AIRPORT. Before would have been great. While I could still stay for the third night, sure. But not while I was hungover as shit, with my bag already checked, ready to get on my damn way.

They managed to get me on a 12:15pm flight. Which was then delayed. Of course.

I puked on the plane during take-off into my Burger King bag like the mature, classy bitch I am.

I kept slamming my gigantic fucking blister on things.

I contemplated death.

I finally landed at LAX at ten minutes until 2, got into a cab, nearly puked in said cab, got home and threw my suitcase in my apartment, realized my car was at work, nearly cried again, walked to work, then finally made it to the yoga studio an hour late for training.

But I made it.

Fuck.

Me.

Sideways.

And that is my recap.

I think that's everything? If I think of more stories, I will certainly share.

God, I am such a shitshow.

VEGAS.

VEGAS

Eff Me Fashion

I've been obsessing for weeks about what to wear in Vegas.

This is a tricky, tricky problem.

Well, okay, I do have a closet full of suitable Vegas dresses from my numerous, numerous trips over the years, but we run into a number of problems. Effin' problems. F Problems, even.

The first problem is very shallow. Well, all the problems are shallow, but the first is exceptionally so. See, most have my dresses have been SEEN before...on Facebook. Oh yes, the dreaded, F. FACEBOOK. Effin' Facebook. Spoiling my style. But when you're trying to impress a quarter dozen different boys you hope are creepin' your profile spread out across the country with your sex appeal via your pictures, you kinda want some new duds. So shallow, I know.

Not that they likely really notice a variety of clothes, anyway.

The second big problem: Some dresses just don't fit anymore.

Because another problem: The other F word. A word I am trying to ban from my writing and thinking, a word with way too much baggage... See, of course, in my weeks of darkness on this blog, in the course of my recent binging, yoga-avoiding, and general malaise...I have gained weight. Which means I do not feel comfortable in most of my clothing anymore. Especially tight, sexy little dresses designed to show off the skin I'm not so comfortable in. Dresses I'll feel the need to suck in...in.

Bah.

So I bought one dress, which is all loose and covered up, thinking it would hide the flaws I'm seeing in myself. But in reality, trying to hide these things just emphasizes them, no? A bigger body looks bigger with more fabric on it. And Vegas is for tight and shiny, not loose and demure.

So that dress is out.

(Plus, I already have pictures of it on Facebook from a few weeks ago...dork.)

I did find one option in the depths of my closet, so night #1 is all taken care of. I had decided to borrow a dress for night #2 from my Biff, but since she didn't end up coming to the Valley for our get together this past weekend, that didn't happen. So alas, I had to shop.

Tragic.

I'm not even being 100% sarcastic. It's a little tragic. 'Cause I'm 'po. But you know, such is life, and you know...I like new shiny things.

So today, I shopped at my favorite friendly neighborhood Marshall's, which was pathetically devoid of options, and man this post is extremely long and shallow but at least I'm writing, right, and to wrap it up here, I found a dress I feel comfortable and attractive in for under $20. More than attractive, maybe? Well...see...

It's a bit of an EFF ME dress.

The amount of side boob is...impressive. It has leather. It's black...I did mention I'm seeing Thumper in Vegas, right?

I texted him today: "I am totally going to inflict this dress on you."

He adored the use of the word "inflict."

I'm not completely sure I have the ladyballs to pull it off. I might go find something else tomorrow...or I might rock this sexy little frock in Vegas with my Barbie heels.

Teehee. *cough* Eff. Me.

A Monday List (And a gif party!)

So, I might be back.

Not making any promises, though.

I was told I was missed. Have I been?! I MISSED YOU.

It's hard to post when I'm feeling bad. And I've been feeling bad guys. SO BAD. Just about life. You read. You know.

But I might be feeling better?

I had a great weekend. Great. I had a lovely day yesterday. I had a nice night last night full of writing. And this morning...well, I don't feel perfect. But I feel like I could be doing a little better.

And besides, life is pretty good right now. Just, on its own merits. I should be counting my blessings.

A list you say, for old time's sake?

Reasons I Should Be Feeling Awesome Right Now

• I'm dating a sweetheart of a boy who's taking me here tonight. Isn't it PRETTY? I'm going to get so pretty to match. 

• I am making friends through yoga, people like me and I've had many fun nights out in the past few months. I'm not totally a weird antisocial loner like I fear I am.

• I have an interview this week and even if I don't get the job, they clearly recognized potential in me from my resume and initial phone interview. That's a win. 

• I have a supportive and awesome family who I went on an incredible, memorable vacation with, and not everyone gets to have that. Some people...well.

• I get to see my Biff tomorrow! Since she didn't make it to the Valley this weekend to hang out, we're meeting for dinner. IT'S BEEN SO LONG I WANT TO GRAB HER AND NEVER LET HER GO.

• I'm going to VEGAS THIS WEEKEND! THREE MORE SLEEPS!

Lifelist

Yeah, I know.

I suck.

What can I say? I haven't posted, but I've been living life. I do have things to talk about. Nothing to brag about on the, you know, weight loss front, so the whole thesis of this blog is kind of moot at this point, but we soldier on! WHO GIVES A FUCK?

Not I.

(This is a lie.

I give so many fucks.)

1) Still seeing Thumper. I think...that he is growing on me more and more. He's just fucking adorbs, y'all.

'Cept he got me sick. 'Cause boys have cooties.

2) He'll be meeting my friends this weekend, like the Biff and the Buff and her Husband and all that group. Should be a very interesting evening.

3) I have not, however, lost the urge to hunt. Like a lioness in the wild. I downloaded Tinder, which is motherfucking hilaaaaarious. I haven't met anyone off it, but it's such a boost to the ole ego. Completely superficial. Tinder, y'all. Super entertaining.

4) Exactly 7 days from oh, right now, I'll be on a plane to Vegas. VEGAS. YES BABY. To meet up with Mantana, and my Jersey girls, and my friend living in Australia, and WOOO HOOOOO. SO FREAKING EXCITED. I really don't have the money, I shouldn't be taking the time off of work, but dammit, I'M GOING.

5) Speaking of work...I have a phone interview tomorrow for a new job. Yup, back on the search. Something needs to change. I'm really excited about it. Wish me vibes.

Follow Through

In our hours upon hours of discussing the male sex, my friends and I have identified the one quality we wish men would possess, or work on, or order off the Internet....or want to have.

Follow through.

In our experiences, men make grand promises. You hang out, you have fun, they like you and your lady charms, they cannot help themselves and suggest all the fun things they want to do with you that never materialize. They ask for your number and never use it, promise to text and never do, they make plans and don't show up, disappear off the face of the earth, you know what I'm talkin' about. Lack of follow through all over the place. It's a problem. What they don't get, is they don't have to make these promises. Just...don't. We won't be nearly as irritated.

In Vegas, I gave my number to one of the Canadians I was chatting with, only because at one point he shouted in my face, "YOU ARE NOT LEAVING UNTIL I HAVE YOUR NUMBER, SEXY!"

Well, okay then.

I have given my number out in Vegas before. But you know, the old adage is quite true, and what happens there stays there or it should and there's only one guy I've ever communicated with after I've fled the city limits, hungover and sore-footed. And he was in San Diego.

Except this time. Of course, THIS one had to have follow through. But again of course, the only reason this one probably has follow through is probably because he lives in another country. If he lived any closer, even in oh say, Cleveland, I'd never hear from him again. And the thing is, I really had no interest in hearing from him. None.

First it was nice, flattering, a few texts after we left the club begging me to come back. Then a few the next day, asking how the drive home was.

Then more, wanting to chat. Telling me about his hockey team? And honestly, I was not replying that often, every few I'd shoot back a line or so, 'cause I'm polite.

Then an early birthday text, and an on time one. And a Facebook friend request, which I just had to ignore, and I had to start ignoring the texts too. Cowardly, perhaps, but I just wasn't quite sure what else to do with this Canadian with that long sought follow through.

And that friend request just sits there sadly.

Five Vegas NSVs

I had a few moments when I was in Vegas that just made me feel awesome. I am back to getting validation and positive reinforcement from internal and external sources, independent of the number on the scale, which is so fantastic and makes me feel so good. Those are the things that will keep me constantly moving forward, and those are the things that I need to hold on to and remind myself of when shit gets hard. Regardless of the number going up or down or staying the same, what really matters is how I feel inside and what I see when I look at myself, body and soul.

So, non-scale victories! Let's discuss.

1) When I was in the shower Friday morning before the road trip, I was bent in half, shaving the backs of my thighs. Which I rarely do, 'cause who ever encounters the backs of my thighs? Exactly. So, I'm contorted awkwardly, face to flesh with a rarely-seen body part, and it looked...different. I narrowed my eyes. I cocked my head. Is that...what is that?

It took me a minute to figure it out.

It was a muscle. I HAVE FREAKING THIGH MUSCLE DEFINITION.

2) My eating in Vegas was definitely a NSV in and of itself, but there were certain moments I can point to where I'm like, LOOK AT ME GO! When we were on our drive, and we opened up a bag of Doritos and I just had a few to satisfy my craving, and stopped without any internal fighting. I was just done. When Buff brought frozen yogurt up to the room for me and the Biff, I had a few bites then decided I didn't need any more. Not because I'd had too much to eat already that day, or out of some silly self-denial---just 'cause I didn't want any more, so I stopped. I'm learning to listen to my body's cues, and that's amazing.

3) The first night we were there, just as we were getting ready to leave, I was staring at myself in the full length mirror in the bathroom and drunkenly announced, "I have never felt this skinny. I mean, I know I've weighed less, but I have never looked this damn good." I mean granted, I was wearing Spanx, but I'll take it.

4) I also drunkenly proclaimed my body "More like Kim Kardashian than Kate Moss and I AM OKAY WITH THAT! Even though I HATE KIM KARDASHIAN!" God, I was probably so obnoxious. Sorry, friends.

5) Quite honestly, I don't remember ever getting as much attention from dudes as I did this weekend. But more than that, I've never accepted attention the way I did this weekend. Usually my inner dialogue after a guy says something like, "Hey, you're going the wrong way beautiful!" when I walk past would be "Oh, he's making fun of you" but my brain didn't play those mean tricks on me this time. I took a compliment as truth and it made me glow. I accepted double takes and sideways glances as praise, not insults, and they gave me a little extra wiggle in my step. And it felt amazing.

Vegas: The Recap

I am home.

I am practically almost human again, maybe, if you ignore my smoker voice and my inability to get out of bed on time.

I am so, so happy.

One million and a half thank yous to my Biff and the Married Lady (who could probably use a better identifier, Buff? Let's go with Buff, since she's a marathoner and all) for a seriously amazing birthday weekend. They were oh so sweet to me and we just had THE BEST TIME EVER. I love them so much.

I'll start from the beginning.

The road trip there was a grand time, of course. AND BEAUTIFUL. I couldn't get over it. Big storms came to Southern California and Nevada this weekend, and Thursday night a clap of thunder exploded so loudly directly above my apartment that both Biff and I woke up. The skies were gorgeous the entire drive, and all the mountains were capped with snow.

Oh yeah, and it was fucking freezing. My car said so, with a snowflake. And you know...SNOW ON THE GROUND.

We stopped for lunch at the In and Out in Barstow, the land of the magical two women's restrooms. Cheeseburger, protein style, animal style. OMNOMNOM.

We made great time on the drive and got checked into the hotel just a little bit before Buff arrived from the airport. We were at the Flamingo, 'cause it's cheap and pink. And I do love pink. We ended up with a view of the Strip, which was awesome!

Then we dumped all our clothes on the bed and played dress up like the five year olds we are at heart. Vegas isn't Vegas if you don't end up wearing something of someone else's.

We decided to leave the comfort of our tacky amazing hotel room with its hot pink dead muppet blankets and go hunt down food. Lo and behold, there was a pizza place right by the elevator, and our journey did not take very long. We were back on our beds eating delicious pizza and drinking delicious mixed drinks provided by Buff's homeowner bar of booze within minutes. FYI: Vanilla vodka and Hoegaarden? Tasty.

Then we got pretty.

The Biff and I played with hair chalk, and I made a giant fucking mess and had a bit of a meltdown (maybe my drugs are out of balance), but went and mediated in a corner and was fine again. But yeah, hair chalk? More trouble than it's worth. Or maybe the set I bought on Dealfind is cheap. Or maybe I was way too enthusiastic.

But you have to wear gloves while you do it, and they were BLUE.

TWO BY TWO, HANDS OF BLUE.

If you get this reference,
two points to you.

So yeah, I had pink hair for a night! And check out the beautiful earrings my Buff blonde beauty gave me for my birthday! Exactly my style, and PINK!

Our first night out was so much fun! We went to Tryst at the Wynn, which is one of our usual haunts, 'cause we know a promoter and it's usually a good time. Free drink tickets, no line, no cover... Per usual, we hooked up with a bachelor party with bottle service, and we finally realized we should probably stop trying to figure out who the bachelor is, and asking him about his wedding: they don't like it. Unlike women, who display their bridehood with tiaras and sashes or, in one lady's case, a FULL ON BRIDAL GOWN, men want to pretend they are not getting married. The hot blonde bachelor said to my Biff, "If you know I'm the bachelor, why are you talking to me?" Like she was a devil temptress sent to harass. Hilarious.

In the morning, the Buff went for a run, 'cause she'd a goddamn lunatic. I lounged in bed but had trouble sleeping, 'cause I'm old now and the second the alcohol leaves my system, I'm up. 

We lounged in bed for awhile, guzzled Gatorade, gossiped, and groused. 

Then we went to the buffet. And it was delicious.

There were mini pot pies.

Then back to bed with our lazy butts. Lounging. At one point the married one was texting her husband and he asked what we'd done that day. 

"Went to the buffet."

"And...?"

"...And?"

After a day of napping and chatting, we did take one field trip out of the hotel and went across the street to the mall at Caesar's to look for a) double stick tape b) lip gloss and c) bra, one item for each of us. It was a long and treacherous journey but we made it. By the end the sun was down and people were emerging in suits and glitter, and we were still in our lazy finest, and it was shameful. It's hilarious the difference in the effort we put forth between, oh, four PM and ten PM. From no makeup and sweats to layers of spackle and spray. 

When we re-emerged again a few hours later, we earned a round of applause as we walked back through the casino, so I guess we improved. 

We started at Tryst again, 'cause why not? More drink tickets! I went to the bathroom, and while I was gone we were apparently pimped out by a bouncer to yet another bachelor party. Canadians, this time. They were all total sweethearts and we had a blast dancing with them, then decided to head over to another club in the same hotel, Surrender.

I imagine Surrender is a lot more fun in the summer when it's warmer as it is all outside, but it was really pretty. A huge pool with tons of private cabanas, then big dance floors and such. We didn't stay long once we found our promoter and said hi, 'cause the mood was pretty mellow. We tried to get into XS, but they think way too highly of themselves and we didn't have some necessary THIRD HAND STAMP from Tryst, so they wouldn't let us in without a $20 cover. And I don't pay no cover, I highly doubt your club is $20 worth of fun.

We went back to Tryst, and our Canadians were SO HAPPY TO SEE US. 

And we danced, and drank champagne, and chatted, and the energy was awesome, and we had such fun.

The Biff and the Buff and I are all on the exact same page as far as party personality and style, which just works out so well for Vegas, which can get too crazy. We were always ready to go out at the same time, and leave at the same time, and do the same things. And they put so much care and thought into making sure I had the greatest time. LOVE THEM.

Honestly, despite my prediction, my hangovers weren't that bad. I drank plenty but I wasn't shitfaced, and I stayed hydrated, go me. The badness only came from lack of sleep. So the drive home was uncomfortable but not torturous, though the last hour or so got a bit dicey...the car would drift...

That is all I can remember, for now, for my recap. Oh yeah, I smooched another Canadian. Middle Eastern and quite hot, though then I started talking to his friend and liked him better and was like "damn, this is why you don't pick so early". Oh, and HOW AWESOME ARE MY PINK SHOES? They gave me blisters, but really they were not that bad considering they're bigger than my head. And my oh my did I let off some necessary steam. And I should really unpack tonight.

And I love my Biff and my Buff.

Black and Gold (And Pink!)

Clearly, there was a color scheme this weekend in Las Vegas.

AND PINK!

Yes, that is pink hair!