So I was staying at a lavish little resort for the past week, and there were all sorts of amenities and such in the room, like a corkscrew. I bought a lovely bottle of 2004 Pinot Noir while I was there, and brought said bottle to my next (not too shabby) hotel. Problem is? This one doesn’t have a corkscrew in the room! FAIL.

Spent the day shopping. Oh, the bling this girl bought without batting an eye. It’s hard to buy clothes these days because they won’t fit for long (well, with the exception of this week — I keep joking that my diet has filed for divorce due to all the damn cheating I’ve done on him!), but even jewelry fitting is transient, as I managed to drop a ring size, too. Go figure.

But I did buy the cutest boots on earth, because they are awesome and I can’t find shit that I like when I’m at home. I was wearing capris with them in the store and I didn’t love how they looked. The salesgirl noticed the disapproval on my face and said they will look so cute with jeans. I laughed and said you know, there are two types of uniforms in Vegas: sweatsuits and high heels, or dresses and Uggs. And NOTHING in between.

I’m debating whether to go out tonight, since I spent my life savings already and I do have a jacuzzi in my suite, waiting for me. I already had a gloriously long, hot candlelit bath this morning (made better by a Witches Ball from LUSH) so my skin is dried out enough for now.

I’m sure I’ll roll down to the lobby for a drink at some point — I’m Internet-surfing after spending four fucking days trying to get the Verizon access card to work and after an hour on the phone with tech support at work on Friday (to no avail), I figured out the problem on my own just a minute ago). Anyway, I was wondering whether to try to get into the uber-exclusive club or whether to just find an open table at any number of the other bars that were empty when I walked by a few minutes ago.

OH! Speaking of exclusive (my ass) clubs, I bought dinner for my team at the breathtaking miX atop THE Hotel the other night to the tune of $1,000. Then two of us broke away and had a few drinks at Rum Jungle, which turns into a nightclub complete with cage dancers. Anyway, my friend and I were almost finished with our adult beverages when a server came over and rudely told us to leave the area. We were all, who the hell are you? And he said that we were sitting in the VIP area, which is a bottle-only space.

It was about to turn into a wine-glass-smashed-into-his-skull space, if I’d had my way about it. We weren’t even asked to order a bottle so we could stay — we were just told to move it elsewhere.

Now, I go to Rum Jungle about once a year. It’s usually packed to the gills. But not the night I was there. Shit, I could have counted the number of patrons on both hands and maybe a foot. B and I were taking up two seats in an otherwise-deserted space. I’m not kidding. B actually sent the little runt on his way and said to send over his manager, who swaggered over like he had a 10-foot dick. (Meanwhile, I was taller than this dude.)

So we pointed out that people weren’t exactly killing themselves to take our two seats. And, for the record, we only needed five more minutes and, if someone needed our seats in that time, we would be HAPPY to leave the club.

The manager threw his weight around for a minute and I was wishing B — at 6-foot-6-ish — would stand up and flick him in the forehead and send him flying across the club.

He did try one last-ditch, “This is a VIP area, so we need you to vacate it” schtick, but I said, you know, we just dropped a grand on dinner at the hotel so why are we NOT worthy of sitting on these stools for two more minutes? He declared, “We operate independently of the hotel so what you do elsewhere doesn’t affect our business.”

Fair enough, but fuck you, you stupid little snot. We did vacate and laughed very loudly as we counted the SIX people standing at the bar, NOT drinking bottles other than BEER BOTTLES. And of course, there was no line outside. SHOCKER.

We rolled down to the J-Pop Lounge and had a fine old time ordering drinks and being ALLOWED to enjoy them before rolling back to our respective hotels. I had a terrific night, but Jesus, I will NOT be going back to Rum Jungle EVER again!

Oh, how cute — housekeeping just came by to offer turndown service. I said no and she asked if I at least wanted the chocolates. Aw. 🙂 I said no, as my ass has already partaken of a nummy crepe and a sugar-free chocolate mousse cake and that was QUITE enough diet-wrecking for one day. Although, that PALES in comparison to the past two days, when I ate all my points AND apparently everyone else’s in the vicinity!

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