Vegas Vacation

This time tomorrow, I’ll most certainly be scorched, sporting a glorious sunburn – that no one will be able to see because I’ll be so incredibly spray tanned – with a giant blended drink in hand lounging by the pool in Las Vegas with three of the funniest gals a girl could ask for. That’s right, four of us wolves, running around the desert together, Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. Okay, maybe not the last part, but there are four of us. In Las Vegas. I know, I’m nervous too.

Remember when I told you nothing cool happens when you turn twenty four? Well, I lied. Aside from the obvious two week celebration that is standard with every one of my twenty three birthdays to date, apparently when you turn twenty four, you go to Vegas. Don’t worry if you didn’t know, this is news to me too. This weekend happens to be the launch of the Las Vegas pool party season and predicted temperatures are in the nineties. Fine, twist my arm – I’ll celebrate my birthday in Vegas. At the risk of sounding like a total square, I have to tell you this will be my first vegas trip. While I’ve been to Las Vegas, it wasn’t the type of weekend I’m anticipating this time around. For starters, I was twelve. I sampled flavors of Coca Cola from around the world. I rode roller coasters at New York, New York. I toured the M&M factory – and threw a tantrum until my mom purchased an M&M nascar jacket that I obviously needed? And ended up wearing to a white trash party in college. Thanks, Mom. On the agenda this weekend are pool parties and nightclubs, dinners and debauchery. Can I still ride the roller coasters? Anyway, never having been to vegas, I’m clueless in the area of preparation. Here’s what I’ve got so far. Let me know if I'm missing anything.

After dieting for about 45 minutes, I’ve opted for an alternate plan – spray tan, a serious spray tan. I’m talking Dancing With the Stars spray tan. Everyone looks better with a little color and I’m hoping I am no exception. As far as packing is concerned, my suitcase looks like Forever 21 went out of business. Or like a bag of glitter exploded. Because seriously, if you can’t wear sequins 24 hours a day in vegas, where can you? Nowhere. I also have about 47 swimsuits. False eyelashes. Cut off shorts. And far too many pairs of heels. And off I go.

So here’s to hoping I don’t fall in the pool, thus washing off my oh so natural orange hue. Come back hitched. Lose a tooth. Steal a tiger. Or find a baby. I absolutely can’t wait to tell you all about it. Or parts of it, most likely. So screw you, Coachella. I’ll party in another desert. I don’t even like Kings of Leon anyway. That’s a total lie. And I’m actually super devastated I’m missing it. But I suppose Las Vegas isn’t such a terrible alternative. So until Tuesday, Toodle loo Mother – wait, my mom reads this.