Saturday, April 4, 2009

Sin City!

It is the duty of every Californian who has turned twenty one years of age to take a pilgrimage to the city of sin-lights-that never sleeps-what happens here stays here-etc.

As of last week, I have yet to pay my homage to old age.  

Yes, I've been all around Europe and Asia, been to the Macau, the Vegas of the East, been to Queen, the hottest club in Paris, been to this, been to that, but I had not stepped foot into Nevada since turning the big 2-1. 

But that was as of last week.

As a bon voyage to my final spring break, HK Krew ventured forth to Vegas where bright lights awaited our arrival...

Located in the center of the strip, we were blessed with complimentary rooms (the only way you can drag me to Vegas) at the Planet Hollywood Hotel, fitting since the Planet Hollywood restaurants (do you remember them?) always gypped my family with their $20 burgers and spaghetti dinners. Thanks Will! Thank your uncle for us, please!

We spent our day at the shooting range poppin' some bullets into the ol' AK-47 and then some into my most dreaded enemy: an illustrated profile of a zombie.

Such a bad-ass, huh?  
I was actually very, very nervous as we got to the shooting range. When I had enthusiastically suggested the idea at the beginning of our trip, it had not dawn on me that we would actually be using guns, loathsome weapons that have killed many and injured many more.  The Gun Store turned out to be a very safe place and the man assured us that bigger guns were actually easier to use than small pistols. Here are our results.
Lol, when my friend Jenn (far right) asked for her target, she said, "Can I get Obama, please" and the man corrected her, "You mean Osama, right?" I surely hope she means the latter because that girl tore into her target like no other.

My friends (with the exception of Will and Jenn) aren't big gamblers so I wasn't as tempted to throw all my money away onto the green table as I normally would be if I were around other company--namely my family. Instead, we threw our money away at the arcades of Circus Circus. Jeff was adamant about winning a stuffed animal so he played all the games of our glory years. He played...
and played...
and FINALLY won a miniature cow at the chicken pounding booth!
...which he promptly gifted to me (most likely because I teased him so badly for not winning anything for the longest time). I named the cow Lucky because I like to name things. (see: Oliver MacArthur)

Eating was a pleasure (but also a pain)  because...look at the size of this thing! It's just asking for a heart attack.
Our dinner was comp'd (these things happen when you're VIP) but none of us truly enjoyed it to the fullest extent because we were all still full from lunch. Darn you, un-expandable stomach!

We also wanted to save room to consume other things. Namely, the giant yard long drinks that seems to be a must-tote around Vegas. 

A Vegas trip isn't complete without a night out at the clubs.  We were offered entrance to most of the hot spots around town; Prive, Tao, but we wanted to check out the newest, hence most elusive, XS.

For the longest time, things looked hopeless. The line at XS stretched farther than Margarita Mondays at Acupulco and my leopard-printed 4-inch pumps were killing me. But eventually, we got in because we're...well, girls and pretty attractive.  (And my friend finally got ahold of the promoter that unlocked the velvet ropes)

When we got in the club, the first thing I noticed was how not packed it was. I hate it when people throw that exclusivity thing around to build more hype. When you have the goods, share it! But that's how the game is played, I suppose.

The gals with Jeff, who bought my first drink of the night. Thanks friend!

Finally, the drive home. I would have to say, I actually enjoy our long drives to and from Vegas.  That's the time when we bond the most, share the most, laugh the most. I'll cherish these moments when I'm old and rich and don't drive anymore because I'll own a private jet. =)
Vegas trip was definitely a success! Except for one thing: why do guys always feel that the best pick-up line for me is, "What ethnicity are you?" or "Wow, you're really tall." Do you really think that demonstrating a confusion to my "exotic" looks or commenting on my towering state of presence is going to get you anywhere? Sometimes the best opening is just a simple, "Hello." *swoon.

*muchos gracias to Jenn and Jeff for letting me steal their pictures to tell parts of my story.


Anonymous said...

Ooooooh fun Janice! You look so pretty!
And you know, no one's ever used a "you're so tall" pick-up line on me.. :(

The dude said...

WTH you shot an AK-47?? Badass!!