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could you please put some pants on? I feel weird having to ask you twice.

Hello hangover!  The last thing I want to do right now is pack up my stuff , and drive 5 hours crammed in the back of Eli's tiny-ass BMW.  But....I'm going to Vegas, so I need to suck it up.  I look over at the clock.  It's 10am.  We need to start moving.  Holland, who is Eli's sister and my closest friend, is flying out of Pennsylvania and is expected to land in Vegas around noon.  She's not going to be happy with us if we don't leave in the next half hour.  I start forming a game plan in my head.

Inner monologue: Alright, I need to pack my shit, get some caffeine in me, take an Advil...leave the apartment. Then, stop for alcohol and food, because my stomach is eating itself.

My thoughts are interrupted.  I hear Eli say he needs to get a haircut before we leave.  Yup, a haircut.  It's a good thing I love him and the place is just across the street from the apartment complex.  I go with him because things between Zac and I haven't been put to rest yet.  He's still pissed about the Jew comment.  I'm still pissed he called me a bitch...and for being a Jew.  Eli tells me that I better settle it before the car ride for the sake of the other passengers, meaning him and Mr. Magnificent.  I agree.

He walks toward the barbershop and I head into Starbucks.  I get my Chai and instead of going to meet up with Eli I start walking back to the apartment hoping to squash the drama with Zac.  I walk in and awkwardly start picking things up and putting them down near him trying to work up the courage to say "I'm sorry."  I open my mouth ready to take the blame, but instead of apologizing, I grimace and say, "So, are you going to be like this the rest of the trip? " Word vomit.  He replies "no."  So I comeback with a "good, me neither."  That's that.  Bomb defused.

Eli gets back.  We start packing the car.  At this point it's already after 11. I grab my last bag, take one final look at the apartment, and say my goodbyes.  I really don't want to leave San Diego, but Vegas is shoutin' me a pretty holla.

Everything is in the car, including us. We're packed like sardines.  You literally could not put one more thing in here. I'm uncomfortably close to Zac in the back seat.  Time to go.

Nope, never mind.  Eli can't find the keys.  Everyone out.  Oh, there they are.  Laying on the ground in front of the car.  Not surprised.

2nd attempt.  Successful.  Our first stop is the liquor store.  I buy 2 bottles of Pinnacle Whipped Vodka(so. fucking. good.)  I also buy some root beer and orange soda to mix! You can imagine what these combos taste like.  I am the God of mixology.

We get back in the car.  Next stop, food and gas.

We are about 20 miles outside of San Diego now.  The boys decide to put on my iPod.  Their song of choice...Stan, Eminem.  I've never seen a group of boys sing so passionately.  No one is saying a word to each other.  They are just looking out the car windows nodding their heads to the beat, and spitting out lyrics.  I hold back from laughing because I don't want them to stop.

We get to a gas station that has 2 food stops so we can grab something to eat, gas up and go.  Eli gets out of the car first and starts patting himself down.  I immediately know what he's doing...looking for his phone.  He starts panicking. We are all taking turns calling it from our phones.  No luck.  Eli left his phone in San Diego.  There's no way we are turning back now, and he knows this, so we move past it.  His roomates are coming to Vegas tomorrow so they will bring it with them.

4 hours have passed.  The trip is going well so far besides the cell phone mishap.  No car troubles, no arguments, just cruisin'.

We come to an agreement that the last 14 miles after we stop for gas will be spent listening to Kanye West, "Cant tell me Nothin'." 

yikes, last gas stop before vegas.



WE'RE IN VEGAS!  I feel like a baller.  I put my stunna shades on, even though the sun has gone down. Just call me Diddy.  I call Holland and tell her we're at the hotel.  From doing research on Palms Place, I know valet is free.  So, we get our stuff out of the car and have someone park it for us.  Still feelin' like a baller.  I walk into the hotel like my shit don't stink, hearing Kanye bustin' rhymes in my head.

We walk into the room on the 16th floor. The place is wicked!  I immediately start jumping on the bed.  My adrenaline is pumping and my heart is beating a mile a minute.  Let's get it! 

Holland and I start playing dress-up.(This will be the start of my pantless parade over the next 2 days.)  I try on every ridiculously whoreish outfit I have tucked away in my bag.  See through lace tops, dresses that practically show my "britney," skin tight pants, and hooker heels.  I find it necessary to dress like this because it will be one of the only times I can,  I won't look any different than anyone else, and even if I did, I'm on the other side of the country.  I'm not seeing any of these people again, so, fuck it!

The boys are in their glory.  They are taking showers in the giant bathroom, drinks in hand.  There is a frosted glass wall between the bathtub and living room and if you put your "body parts" directly against it you can see EVERYTHING! Of course, we take advantage of this.(Zac has a really white ass.)



this is how we do it



Music blasting, liquor flowing, we're ready to party...Vegas style.  Which is much more extreme. 

We are all dressed, so we start taking shots.  I can tell Zac is already hammered because a full sentence has turned into one word. "aruseredtogo?" I think what you're trying to say, Zac, is," are you ready to go?" Mr. Magnificent is making mixed drinks for himself, and when I say mixed drinks I mean rum, with a tablespoon of soda.

We leave the room to go to the Palms casino, which is connected to our hotel.  Eli thinks it would be a good idea to create fake identities.  Genius.  Eli looks very similar to Tyson Ritter, the lead singer for the All American Rejects.  He's been mistaken for him before, by a, um, stripper, so we roll with that.  Zac says he will be the drummer, Chris Gaylor, Mr. Magnificent will be their agent/manager, Parker Ginsberg, Holland will be "Tyson's sister", Bridget, and I will be a family friend Drew, like Drew Barrymore. I love her.

Zac can barely walk...already.  The boys are taking this identity thing to the extreme, yelling each other's fake names across the casino.  They take a spot at a Black Jack table and Holland and I sit down to play video poker...Jacks or Better.  We aren't gamblers, but Holland got a players card from Palms that has $10 on it so we figure we'll just use that until it's gone. 

We're actually doing pretty well.  We keep screaming everytime we win the slightest amount of money. 

Zac stumbles over to us smoking a cigarette.  Unreal.  He looks like a complete asshole.  He tries to tell us that the game we have been playing for the last hour isn't touch sreen. He touches the screen in hopes to obtain proof, and ends up looking like more of an asshole. Fail.  We shoo him and his rancid cigarette away and continue our game. 

We lose all of the money on the card and go over to the boys who, not suprisingly, are all smoking now...and wearing sunglasses. How they got the cigarettes? Still a mystery.  Eli is talking to two guys who are playing at the table with them about his "concert" tomorrow at MGM.  I notice he has picked up a Boston accent, but only when he says "Parkers" name.  "Hey PAKA!  Can we leave these guys some tickets at the box office tomorrow?"..."Ah, yea, sure.(looks at the guys) Just tell the guy at the counter you're here with Parker Ginsberg."  Both of their new friends thank them graciously.  It's almost sad. The one closest to Eli is just shaking his head in astonishment. Smile on his face.  "No shit.  Tyson Ritter. All American Rejects. This is crazy, man." 

They are going to be so dissapointed when they show up at MGM only to find out there is no concert.  My friends are douchebags, but so entertaining.

We walk outside, hail a cab, get in the cab, and ask the driver to take us the the best club in Vegas on a Wednesday night.  We end up at Lax Nightclub at Luxor.  Let the shit show commence...

to be continued...

still puking and rallying

Day 5:  Everyone is healthy.  It's our last day before Vegas and we're planning on leaving San Diego with an extremely...explosive...bang.

 It's FAT TUESDAY! We may not be in Nawlins, but we will celebrate like we are.  Eli is in class again and Mr. Magnificent is finishing up school work.  I'm going to the San Diego Zoo.  Zac has to come with me by default. 

Since we don't have a car, we have to use public transportation.  I'm from Lancaster County, PA...we don't use buses where I live, there are no trolleys and Yellow cab is the only taxi service downtown.  Needless to say, we're new at this, and it's bound to be a disaster.

We get on the trolley at the station by Eli's place in Mission Valley.  First step=success.  The trolley employee starts to come around to check tickets.  I pull mine out and I realize that it expired yesterday.  Luckily, she doesn't notice.  Since I am too scared to play this game the hard way and hope that no one notices for the rest of the trip I plan to get one at the next stop.  We have to switch from the trolley to a bus, because it doesn't go all the way to the zoo.  We exit at Fashion Valley station to change modes of transportation. I look for a kiosk to get new tickets.  Of course, I'm short on cash because I wasn't planning on needing it, and apparently they only accept exact change. Zac doesn't have enough to get us both, so we walk over to the mall in hopes to hit up an ATM, and find someone that will break a 20 for us.  No one will give us change so we finally just cave a buy a water. We get back to the station. We are surrounded by the scum of the earth and have no idea which side to stand on.  The bus passes us about 4 times before we realize something isn't right.  We call Eli.  He has no idea what the problem could be.  It passes us again.  I'm starting to get irritated. 

6. Time to get a fucking cab.  What a waste of time.  No reason to get money out, or take the trolley.  I better be able to swim with fucking polar bears for the trouble I'm going through to get to this zoo.

We turn the corner to find a cab.  Zac throws his arms up in disbelief.  I look over in the direction he is standing and see the bus that has been continually driving past us stopped and picking up passengers. Un- fucking-believable.  By the time we get over there the bus is leaving once again.  At least this time we know where were supposed to be.  We go sit down on the bench directly in front of the stop so there is no chance we will miss it again. 

I have seen a lot of whacked out drug addicts before, but none to the degree of whackedness coming down the stairs behind us.  I'll paint a picture for you. White girl...black guy. The girl is wearing a huge gray t-shirt, black zip up hoodie, and flare jeans that almost completely cover her once white/now brown, Reebok sneakers.  Her hair is about 5 different colors of awful and is so thin and stringy. (probably from all the meth)  She has a plastic bag in her hand, which I'm assuming is full of either drugs or recyclables that she can use to get money for drugs.  If it's possible, the fellow she is with looks worse.  He has short nappy hair. He's wearing a wife-beater...and black jeans that are hanging down at his knees...aaaannndd he's not wearing underwear.  Icing on the cake: Zac nudges me just as he's bending over looking in his pockets for change to buy a coke.  I turn around and see nothing but his bare, black, ass staring me in the face.  I almost scream, but the vomit inching up my throat prevents any sound from creeping out of me.

They ramble on loudly about things that are foreign to my sober/non-drug user ears.  I make jokes to Zac about how gross they are, commentate what they might be saying to each other and continually stare at them.  I can't help it, it's like witnessing a car crash. I guess I'm a little too loud and the bitch hears me saying things and looking at them. Whoops, I'm caught.  I jerk my head around in the other direction. She yells "Hey! were you talking about me!"  Zac looks back at her while I look at him with nothing but fear in my eyes.  I'm about to get rocked by a meth-head.  I breathe a sigh of relief after Zac shakes his head no and she says nothing more on the subject.  I'm done being tough in California.

We get on the bus. Finally. The crazies stay behind. The bus driver is super helpful and promises to tell us when we are supposed to be getting off(That's what she said.)  She sticks to her word and flags us down.  We get off that bus and walk to the next one. This is so damn complicated it's unreal. 

We made it!  Let me just take a minute to thank Steve Jobs for inventing the iPhone.  Steve, you're the man.  Without your genius device they call a cellphone I would have ended up in the Pacific.  It may have been a hell of a ride, but it could have been a lot worse.

The zoo is preeeetty awesome.  The gorillas and elephants blow my mind.  Animals, I have decided, are more intelligent than I am.  Once again, if I had a bucket list, I would cross "going to the San Diego Zoo" off of it...and mastering public transportation.

Zac and I ride the trolley back to Eli's.  This time we know what we're doing.  No good stories.

I'm pretty beat from the eventful day we've had already, but it's our last night and I'm ready to party hardy.  We start drinking and getting dressed to go out on the town for Mardi Gras.  Dressing these boys is so much fun.  Mr. Magnificent wants to look like he's ready to throw down, naturally.  Eli asks his roommate, Kyle, if he still has his American Flag pants.  I like where this is going.  We put MM in the American flag pants, a bright green polo, and Eli's SDSU red and black mullet wig, with my green and black leopard print scarf wrapped around it like Rambo.  To top it off, we throw some beads on him.  Zac puts on a shirt that says "I like boobies" and Eli, looking the most normal puts on some sunglasses and beads.  READY!

Ed is coming out with us.  I'm happy as a clam.  We wait for him to pick us up.  Why is this guy always driving us around when we all know he is bound to be the most intoxicated?  We pound a few.  Zac asks me for money for the beer.  Bad idea.  I bought the first case.  I tell him to stop being a Jew(sorry, Jews.  I love Adam Sandler!)  This doesn't sit well with Zac and he tells me to stop being a fucking bitch. Wha Wha Whatt? It's a good thing he yells this from the bathroom because he would have gotten a swift kick in the balls if he were anywhere close to me.  Zac will now receive the silent treatment from me the rest of the evening.  This is the start of our first fight, but certainly not the last.

Ed calls Eli to let us know he has arrived.  We walk out to his killa, Lexus, SUV and pile in.

The city of San Diego is packed with people.  Most of the streets are blocked off.  Everyone is decked out on Mardi Gras attire.  There are go-go dancers dressed as fairies, standing on platforms placed at every corner of each block.  This is so fun!  We get in line to grab beer.  I take some pics of my boys and some randoms that clearly belong in my pictures as well. 

Let the double fisting begin!  My addrenaline is going.  We walk in the first bar.  The music is deafening.  Dance floor it is.  I feel like there is no one around, but the place is packed.  Teach me how to Dougie comes on.  Holler.  I am dougie-ing my ass off when I spot a gentleman caller trying to show me up.  I swag step over to him in hopes to battle.  (Note: don't ever try to battle me.  I will humiliate you.)  He is impressed with my moves, and decides it would be a good idea to pick me up by the waist and spin around with me.  This guy is probably around 6'7 and 200 pounds. I'm like a rag doll in his hands.  As fun as it is towering above everyone I beg him to put me down.  He responds to my cries, drops me, spins me around, and starts dry humping the shit out of me.  I let this go on for about a minute until he starts pulling my hair.  No, thanks.  I leave abruptly and walk back over to my friends.  I tell them what just happened and ask if they saw any of it.  Nope.  I think it's best if I stay close, because clearly these guys aren't going to notice if I get kidnapped/ raped.

Onto the next one. We go down into the basement of this bar. Don't ask me what the name of it is.  I am highly intoxicated, and so is Mr. Magnificent.  We walk up to the bar and order who knows how many shots.  Mr. Magnificent and I are having the time of our lives.  To top off our excitement Kid Cudi starts bumpin'!  The last thing I remember is Ed sitting on the stage and me attempting to perform a lapdance on him.  You'll have to ask him how it was.  I'd be willing to guess it was sloppy.

sleepy time.

**A little birdie told me the next day that the rest of the evening consisted of a drunken stumble back to the car and into the apartment.  Oh, and apparently I tried to rip a registration sticker off of a car to give to Eli. Normal.