Okay, I just want to start off this post with a celebratory WOOOOOOOO!!!!I got on quite splendidly during last night's outing. I'm particularly glad that last night was such a hit because I was having serious doubts about venturing out. It's rather tough being a childless, 30-something party addict. Originally, I had a crew of four other 30-something party addicts lined up to roll with me. One by one, they cancelled. No babysitter to be found. Tired from work. Too much drinking earlier on in the week. Outfit wasn't fitting right due to water retention. Good grief. The dilemma for me is that I had a mighty need to prance on a dance floor. I've tried partying with 20-somethings and I have nothing against the age group, but they just have a completely different frame of mind and choice of attire when going out. I'm not trying to hear that, see. So, OutPast30 Lady went out by herself! (Insert shocking music here.)
Much to the dismay of my parental units, both biological and adopted, I take to the streets flying solo quite often. It can't and won't be helped. After living in three major metropolitan areas by myself and getting into more than my fair share of trouble, I can safely and intelligently navigate the after-hours scenes without making headline news the next morning. I keep my rape / party whistle handy. I make sure my celly is charged. I always walk with a purpose...as if I know exactly where I'm going. Additionally, I have a developed a pretty impressive "I will kill you without hesitation" facial expression. No one messes with me unless I want to be messed with and I don't put myself in ridiculous situations potentially leading to a knock upside the head. In other words, I'm an adult.
After performing my usual squats and lunges, eating some homemade jambalaya and rocking out to Soca music, I started the night at Lavo's open bar at The Palazzo. I will not elaborate on this particular venue because I plan on visiting it again on Tuesday night. (Be sure to check back on Wednesday for the full report.) After two glasses of wine and a bit of networking, I got myself over to Pure at Ceasar's Palace. I was told to get there at 10:30pm and initially I thought such an early arrival was pure and utter ridiculum. However, lo and behold at 10:30pm, there was a line. I uttered the secret password, gave the ritual handshake and was immediately skipped to the front. (It's so good to be a Las Vegas insider.) I walked through the Pure corridors into the main room. The spot was already starting to get packed. Wow.
If you've ever tortured yourself by watching MTV's The Hills then you've seen the inside of Pure and it is everything a Las Vegas nightclub should be with the scantily clad waitstaff, VIP areas and ultra modern decor. However, I think it's a little larger than most spots and for that I was appreciative. I made a trek to the bathroom. The tiling was nice. I found a vacant highboy to lean against and surveyed the crowd. Absolutely lovely. People of all ages, colors, and persuasions tastefully dressed. Not too skanky. Far from drab. Sure there was a host of chicks wearing those new little dresses with the tapered hem and there were a few who insisted on wearing bras with dresses that bras clearly shouldn't be worn with but I forgave them. There was good energy in the air. People already dancing on the dance floor. Guys smiling. A bride-to-be with her bridal party jerking maniacally to house music. The music changed to a mix of hip-hop and that was it. I snapped a picture with Mike, a young man visiting from California and his friend Charles, a three year resident of LV by way of Boston. I joined them in taking a shot of courage and then hit the dance floor hard.
I made my home there for about an hour and a half. Thank you, stretches, stability ball and morning sprint. My stamina was on FIRE!
While I was on the dance floor, a peculiar thing happened. Yes, I was looking terribly pretty in pink rocking the updated haircut but I didn't expect to get hit on the way I did. She would not tell me her name but she did share that she was married with two kids and was not interested in dancing with men. She smelled like lilac. She looked like she could have been Brazilian or at least some kind of product of South America. Yeah, she was hot and for about half of the time I was on the floor she did everything possible to come between me and my male dance partner including groping, fondling and spanking. Hell. I danced with her until an audience gathered around us on the floor to watch. Men are horrible.
Dear Hot South American Chick who kind of scared me, I had a great time with you. I hope that you made it home safely to your family. Please do not act upon your lesbian impulses unless you first clear it with the spouse or your children are grown.
I left the floor towards the end of the night to go out to the famed Pure balcony. I felt like I was a in a dream-like state and that this couldn't possibly be happening. I was just having a really, really good time. Out on the balcony, I was in awe of the night sky and lights around me. I've got to get back here and party again.
Pure was pure bliss.
Much to the dismay of my parental units, both biological and adopted, I take to the streets flying solo quite often. It can't and won't be helped. After living in three major metropolitan areas by myself and getting into more than my fair share of trouble, I can safely and intelligently navigate the after-hours scenes without making headline news the next morning. I keep my rape / party whistle handy. I make sure my celly is charged. I always walk with a purpose...as if I know exactly where I'm going. Additionally, I have a developed a pretty impressive "I will kill you without hesitation" facial expression. No one messes with me unless I want to be messed with and I don't put myself in ridiculous situations potentially leading to a knock upside the head. In other words, I'm an adult.
After performing my usual squats and lunges, eating some homemade jambalaya and rocking out to Soca music, I started the night at Lavo's open bar at The Palazzo. I will not elaborate on this particular venue because I plan on visiting it again on Tuesday night. (Be sure to check back on Wednesday for the full report.) After two glasses of wine and a bit of networking, I got myself over to Pure at Ceasar's Palace. I was told to get there at 10:30pm and initially I thought such an early arrival was pure and utter ridiculum. However, lo and behold at 10:30pm, there was a line. I uttered the secret password, gave the ritual handshake and was immediately skipped to the front. (It's so good to be a Las Vegas insider.) I walked through the Pure corridors into the main room. The spot was already starting to get packed. Wow.
If you've ever tortured yourself by watching MTV's The Hills then you've seen the inside of Pure and it is everything a Las Vegas nightclub should be with the scantily clad waitstaff, VIP areas and ultra modern decor. However, I think it's a little larger than most spots and for that I was appreciative. I made a trek to the bathroom. The tiling was nice. I found a vacant highboy to lean against and surveyed the crowd. Absolutely lovely. People of all ages, colors, and persuasions tastefully dressed. Not too skanky. Far from drab. Sure there was a host of chicks wearing those new little dresses with the tapered hem and there were a few who insisted on wearing bras with dresses that bras clearly shouldn't be worn with but I forgave them. There was good energy in the air. People already dancing on the dance floor. Guys smiling. A bride-to-be with her bridal party jerking maniacally to house music. The music changed to a mix of hip-hop and that was it. I snapped a picture with Mike, a young man visiting from California and his friend Charles, a three year resident of LV by way of Boston. I joined them in taking a shot of courage and then hit the dance floor hard.I made my home there for about an hour and a half. Thank you, stretches, stability ball and morning sprint. My stamina was on FIRE!
While I was on the dance floor, a peculiar thing happened. Yes, I was looking terribly pretty in pink rocking the updated haircut but I didn't expect to get hit on the way I did. She would not tell me her name but she did share that she was married with two kids and was not interested in dancing with men. She smelled like lilac. She looked like she could have been Brazilian or at least some kind of product of South America. Yeah, she was hot and for about half of the time I was on the floor she did everything possible to come between me and my male dance partner including groping, fondling and spanking. Hell. I danced with her until an audience gathered around us on the floor to watch. Men are horrible.Dear Hot South American Chick who kind of scared me, I had a great time with you. I hope that you made it home safely to your family. Please do not act upon your lesbian impulses unless you first clear it with the spouse or your children are grown.
I left the floor towards the end of the night to go out to the famed Pure balcony. I felt like I was a in a dream-like state and that this couldn't possibly be happening. I was just having a really, really good time. Out on the balcony, I was in awe of the night sky and lights around me. I've got to get back here and party again.Pure was pure bliss.
So you danced with a lesbian? I'm telling your mother!
ReplyDeleteTell Mother all about it. I've danced with all kinds of people. I liked it AND I'll do it again!
ReplyDelete