Girls Gone Wild. My Entry Titles are ORIGINAL.

Right. I've decided to just tell my three favorite stories/revelations from the girlie weekend. Tomorrow, a book review. That's how we're shifting things around here.

We partied like this for two nights (you know the drill, click a pic to see a bigger one).






And so just to review, Saturday was:
1. Caramel
2. Light
3. McDonald's
4. Rum Jungle

And Sunday was:
1. Body English
2. Rainbow Room
3. Various locations across the city

A Revelation: Why This Weekend Was So Good
I realized the other day why this weekend, in particular from about 1:oopm on on Sunday, was so, so, so beautiful to me. And why I love all of the people I spent the weekend with so very, very much.

I talk a lot about how my life philosopy is that if you just follow the path that is laid out in front of you, life will be beautiful (not perfect, but full of more beautiful moments than otherwise). I talk a lot about not resisting what's right there ready for you to follow even if it's scary to do that at first.

I don't really always do that.

But this last weekend was like that. Friday was like that for sure. If you'd told me we'd end up at The Sweetest Boy in the World's House eating steaks at 6:00pm on Saturday, I wouldn't have guessed that. But that appeared, and nobody fought it, and it was lovely. If you'd told me we were going to meet good, solid Indiana boys and hang out and talk with them about things we shared, or that we'd be eating Chicken McNugget appetizers on the way into Mandalay Bay, I wouldn't have guessed that. But that appeared, and nobody fought it, and it was lovely. If you'd told me we'd end up at my place with pizza and make up, and then we'd get our dance on, and then at 4am I'd find myself walking to the strip with no real destination in mind and a boy who makes me want to listen to him, I wouldn't have believed you. But that appeared, and nobody fought it, and it was lovely.

And so I just want to say thank you to the Friday girls, and the weekend girls, and the sweetest boy in the world and AT&T (who needs a better name) and all the other cool people we talked to all weekend long for going with the flow. It's easier to do that in the dark of night in Vegas than day to day in your life, but you don't get reminded to do it day-to-day in your life if you don't surround yourself with people who know how to just let go when it's late at night in Vegas. So thanks. I feel very ... reminded. Reminded of my philosphy, and that maybe I've done too much resisting lately.

A Story: Trevor the Male Stripper
Right on. So we're at Rum Jungle at 3:00am. It's real freakin' ghetto in Rum Jungle at 3:00am. The tables have started to clear adn they're really just letting anybody in. Our first (and only) VIP scenario is with these crazy Russians/Isrealis/Mexicans (nobody could really tell what nationality they were). They ordered three full bottles of tequilla. I took one look at those and felt like I was going to be sick. So we moved on.

Here's the thing about the vibe at Rum Jungle. It is TOTALLY ACCEPTABLE for guys there to, if they think you're hot, just grab you by the arm and pull you out of your girl posse to come talk to them. Creepy, yeah? But you know that's the deal when you go there. It happens to each of us pretty much at one point or another. And then the rest of us, at some point, realize somebody is missing and we go back to collect them. That process usually takes about five minutes.

I got the winner on this trip, ladies. The. Winner. We're walking through the bar trying to find a "hot spot", and Trevor, real name, yanks me over to chat. I'm cool about it though, because I know my girls will come back for me. I know this because within two minutes I've sent a text that just says "Come get me please." It's crowded though, and it takes them a while. It takes them long enough that I've gotten to the point of the conversation where I actually have to start asking questions like, "So what do you do?" Which is what I ask.

And Trevor looks at me like I'm an idiot and says, "Can't you tell?"

And honestly, I haven't actually looked that closely, but suddenly I notice the overly defined pecs and the shaved chest, and I know. I KNOW.

"You're a male stripper, yeah?" I say. And I'm right. And in a blessed moment I look over and see that the girls are there to collect me, because, in my head, I'm freaking out.

I'm not freaking out because Trevor is a male stripper, because, honestly, I would have liked to have had a conversation about that. I'm freaking out because I'm not sure what it says about me that the male stripper wanted to hit on me. Do I look like a girl who will be into a male stripper? Maybe, I'll concede, that on a club night, I look like that girl. And how do I feel about that? And honestly, until I started writing that story I had forgotten that I even had ever had that freak out in my head, so I'm going to let it go.

A Lesson: If you don't understand girls' night, then you don't understand girls.
Let's say you are a boy and you have been hanging out with four girls. At some point, two of the four girls decide they want to do something that you can't join them for, and so the other two girls politely explain that they'll have to call you later because it's girls' night and they have to go with their girlfriends.

Don't be pissed about that. Girls aren't going to split up on girls' night unless they ALL agree to it, and most of the time, that's not likely to happen. So understand that if you're hot on a girl who's on a girl's night, your percentage chance of her leaving her group is honestly less than 10%. It may happen. She may get the blessing. It's more likely that it won't. But the kicker is, you can't be bitter about that. You just can't, because if you don't understand girls' night, then you don't understand girls. Girls are playing the game too, dude. You're not the only playa playa out there in Vegas. Good lord. As a certain girl brilliantly said, you killed 125% of the game in your immediate area.

A Lesson: Don't Hesitate in Vegas
Here's another one. You're a boy and some girls have given you their cell numbers so you can call and meet up later. You call. The girls say "Come on over to the Mandalay Bay!" You hang up.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT call back and say some dumb ass shit like "We just want to make sure you're not on the verge of going home or something, because we don't want to come all the way over there and have you bail in an hour or whatever." You know what happens when you hesitate in Vegas? You miss out. For example, in this situation, you will be told by the very pretty girl on the other end of the phone, "I can't guarantee that. Don't come." And then she will hang up and go home to sleep. You can't hesitate in Vegas. See Revelation Number One Above. Go with the path in front of you. Particularly late at night in Vegas.

And here end the stories and pictures from the weekend. We're talking books tomorrow.