So, I went party rocking in Vegas last weekend in celebration of completing 31 years of life. Here's the story. It's long, and self indulgent: Two good friends and I carpool out in a rented GMC Acadia. Not bad, comfy enough, and blue tooth audio, so we're good. Whatever, I don't really know anything about cars. We get to our hotel: Treasure Island. My philosophy on Vegas hotels is that they're all generally the same - just go with whoever has a good deal at the time that's near the center of the strip. So we arrive to check into our suite and my friend, let's say, Marcus, gets us upgraded to a Luxury Suite for free. He has a weird kind of charisma that I don't understand. Side tangent: Spoiler He calls this quality the Portuguese word "jeito", although he's ethnically Mexican but from Texas, which, according to the internet, loosely translates to "n. way, aptness". He once struck up a conversation with a random old drunken guy at our local Irish haunt. He discovered, during conversation, that this dude had been the band Rush's roadie for years, and proceeded to score free front row you-can't-buy-these-tickets-the're-so-good tickets, that were actually real, for us and our gang for a show in San Diego. This guy came too, of course, and turned out to be a real character. But we can't get into nested side tangents. The Luxury Suite was pretty... sweet. Great view of the strip, two main rooms, a wet bar, a jacuzzi bathroom, a regular bathroom, and a fridge. None of us really gambled at all during the trip. I'm a bit of a poker player, myself, and generally stick to just that, but that's a solitary activity not fit for this particular getaway. I'll refrain from spewing out a poker side tangent. 60,000 character limit anyway ;-) We did drink a whole lot and go on adventures. The official activities were a birthday dinner at Morels Steakhouse and a show at The Laugh Factory. We wanted to see Penn & Teller, but they were sold out. The Laugh Factory was fine, but I actually live just down the street to the Hollywood one which I think has a better draw. Anyway, most Vegas time actually doesn't make for an interesting story, so I'll just skip to the girls we brought back to our Luxury Suite on Saturday night. We met them in one of the casino floor lounges where a pretty cool band was playing. We get bottle service at the lounge, meet some girls, and bring them to our table. Everyone's having a good time, so we invite them back to our Luxury Suite. We order champagne, vodka, orange juice, and cranberry juice to the room. We snort a bit of Adderall. All is well in the world - a perfect hedonistic getaway. Then the girls, out of nowhere, say that if we want for them to stick around, we have to "contribute" something. Namely, $300 each. Which we actually ended up paying $200 each. Maybe I'm naive, but these girls did not seem to be prostitutes off the bat. One of them was fat and unattractive! Do regular girls, when in Vegas, just get all prostitutional? Did they just perceive us as easy marks that would pay them? Where they actually regular pros? Goddamn I felt like a sucker. But I guess I enjoyed a nice blow job and some naked jacuzzi time. You can't sweat the little things. Side note, the hottest of the girls had inverted nipples, which were odd. Anyone else ever experience those? Also, I feel the need, for some reason, at this point, to clarify that I am not actually misogynistic - quite the opposite - and maybe no one was thinking that anyway.
There is just too much to work with here. 1. There are plenty of fat, unattractive hookers. 2. Some non-hookers do go out seeking free meals from dumb guys. 3. Hookers do seek out targets. You are prey, you have their money and they will get it. 4. If you don't know what to look for, the "pros" blend into the background, because they are experienced. 5. You are a sucker. 6. You can't sweat the little things but AIDS never really goes away. 7. You met the girls on the casino floor. I swear, with ever dollar I own or ever will own, that they were hookers.
Apparently when they asked for contributions he didn't realize what they meant. Maybe he thought they were going to donate it to the ACS or something.
Also, I should clarify, my join date <-- over here is bullshit. Your board is all locked down for new registrations, so I emailed [email='ads@theidiotboard.com]'ads@theidiotboard.com[/email]' to ask for an account, and Chatter hooked me up. This was fairly recent, 'round where my first post is.
I go to Vegas twice a year because of hockey tourneys. We stay in the Rio, for whatever reasons hookers tend to work it. I know without a doubt, if you pick up girls on the casino floor, they are working girls. I've never wrapped up for a bj, but if you're getting one from a hooker, its not a bad idea. Funniest moment I've ever had was coming down from my room at 10:00am with a friend to get breakfast. In the middle of the elevator ride down I tell my buddy, "So Tracey picked up a hooker last night." This, while we were sharing the elevator with half a dozen other people.
I like how you picked up a group of girls and managed to get them up to your Luxury Suite(!) without all the usual small talk that normally happens when you meet girls, like "Where are you from?" and "What do you do?", and yet there was nary a sneaking suspicion that they might be whores. I bet you guys are as good at conversation as you are at judging strangers.
Ugh, this is disturbingly accurate, although the story is all real. Here's me and "Marcus" in our Luxury Suite. Funny, I don't feel like a douchebag...
I've only done Vegas the one time, which was earlier this year. There were the four of us, all guys, split into two rooms. Over the course of our three night stay, 3 of us kept whatever hooker-promo cards we were handed. We did a couple of laps of the Vegas Strip, so you can imagine we had quite the collection. On the morning that we left, as we were getting ready for our flight to L.A, we gave all the cards we had collected to the guy who was rooming with the odd one out that hadn't collected any. Once he had his travel backpack all sorted, our friend piled all the hooker cards (would've been at least 500 or so) into the top flap. We get to Vegas airport, check in, board the flight, get off at L.A, collect our bags and taxi it to the hotel without incident. We're obviously all pretty hungover and tired, so we've basically forgotten about the cards anyway. Until we're at the Hotel reception desk checking in, and the staff member processing our booking asks for our passports. Our friend flings open the top flap of his backpack to get his, and all these hooker cards spill out everywhere. There's a line of about 10 people behind us, with an old couple front and center to Destiny's number, going rate per hour, and "modelling shot" complete with stars over the nipples, along with countless other similar friends with identical cards. Suffice to say, their faces were hilarious.
My friend and I decoupaged our night stands with hooker cards we got on the strip, but boyfriend isn't too fond of mine. It's in the basement collecting dust but I can't quite bring myself to throw it away.
The Duggars honestly need to do the world a favour and wipe their seed from the earth. What a wretched way to raise a family. "Okay, here's the rules kids: No fun, no choices. You raise and watch the sibling younger than you because that's not a parent's responsibility! And no dancing!"
Some interestingly-worded Vegas stories on here, like the taking of the private jet to the timeshare.
On the 'I don't fee likes douchebag thing' we alway wonder this at work when dealing with ridiculous patients who don't realize it. What if we are ridiculous too?