Rich Bitch Summer
I picked Las Vegas for my birthday trip this year.
Kenny Chesney was playing at the Sphere. I had to see the Sphere. And he was playing ON my birthday.
Then I heard Bitcoin 2025 was going to be at the Venetian a couple days later.
Asked my boss to sponsor part of the trip. He said pass unless I get a media pass.
So I got one.
I was thinking about Chappell Roan when she made a country song and all the rednecks said a lesbian can’t be a country star.
And Chappell is like I can and I DID.
Be like Chappell.
Interestingly with BTC2025, my friend who works in the crypto world exclusively tried to get a media pass and was DENIED.
Anyway, I had chosen the Cosmopolitan as my birthday weekend hotel. But now that I was staying for this conference, I extended my stay at no small expense.
For whatever faults the company finds with me, they have to realize I went there of my own accord … on my own dime … and contracted the plague from the tRump mosh pit I ended up in.
The conference is a story for another day. Or, at least, another outlet, so I can get future media passes. (Though I will definitely talk here about what a miserable MAGA rally that turned out to be.)
In any event, all I had to do was say Cosmopolitan and everyone treated me like a rich bitch.
The hotel, too. They know they aren’t attracting riff-raff.
Sure, the riff-raff comes through there, as it’s got a casino and restaurants and all. But never once did I feel like I was anything but a VIP.
MGM of all places treated me like riff-raff. I went to see my friend Jared DJ at the Palm Tree Beach Club. I got frisked at the door and they took my Tylenol.
The kids asked why I had Tylenol. I said I could see this pool from my room at the Cosmo yet it still took 40 minutes to walk here.
At least they didn’t take my Mucinex. I realize in hindsight they thought I was cooking meth in the 107-degree desert heat.
In any event, I liked feeling like a rich bitch.
Even hanging around with the Bitcoin bros — in everything from Armani suits to pajamas — I felt special.
I mean, I am.
I understand internet money. Or infinite money, as they also call it.
I even trade it.
A guy at the Cosmo asked what brought me to town and I said BTC2025. He asked to use my phone because he lost his.
I have a wrist strap on my phone and said you can use it in my hand. He did for a few minutes but gave up.
Lordt. I am never going to give my phone to someone to crack into my crypto account. Or any account, for that matter. Especially my private equity one.
Also fun tip, these hotels make you use public Wi-Fi. Even Bitcoin didn’t have dedicated Wi-Fi and those dopes begged us to spend Satoshis and help them set a Guinness World Record.
We set it. But without me, as I wasn’t touching the Wi-Fi or my sats over it.
My good friend published an article the other day about VIP summer.
She’s always going on about not wanting “peasant” coffee or wanting to bunk with the masses. She’s got a boatload of Marriott points and is amassing JetBlue ones at the speed of sound.
Anyway she wrote about being tired of “peasant” experiences. Time to upgrade, now that she’s traveled with people who’ve given her a taste of the good life.
I would love to know what her readers thought about that. I say this knowing MY readers wouldn’t do peasant shit. I mean, some would/do. But not the ones I have been hanging around with lately.
I just got back from Orlando. My Apple Maps and Waze think I’m still sitting in that swanky Annual Passholder lounge in the Morocco section of Epcot.
Same with Ticketmaster. It’s defaulted to Las Vegas somehow. And yes I WOULD like to attend more concerts there, thanks.
And don’t even talk to me about Expedia. It’s convinced I live in the West Village.
I think we’ve just outlined my life goals in three easy steps right here.
RBS summer, ahoy!
My manicurist (jesus does this sound bougie) and I got to talking about this.
We love to have nice nails. To plan good trips. To eat good food on them.
And we’re at home eating hot dogs and using the apartment pools and Ross shopping and not driving if we can help it.
To save up for the good life.
I consider the nails a necessity. I started on manicures back in December when I went to a charity gala in NYC. (Bougie bitch.)
Now I just love feeling “polished.” That my hands are ready when I get a good offer to go out. And my manicures last a good 4-6 weeks. None of that two-week “fill” shit the acrylic girls used to do.
That said, I do get spendy AF when I want to. I sat on my ass all year till my birthday.
Now that the travel bug has bitten me … and so has the new credit card fairy … I’m like INTERNET MONEY AHOY.
Internet money means BTC profits. Of which I don’t have much.
But I have a wallet full of cards that earn me either Disney points, Delta miles, cash back or other travel points. And I’m not afraid (enough) to use it.
Delta cheesed me off with its new tiers. I used to do the row behind first class. Now I’m pretty much booking the damned cargo section of the airplane.
The trade-off in price means I’ll take a better hotel since they can’t even afford seat belts in my new section.
After all, I can stand three hours to LGA in the fetal position. I cannot stand three nights in Chelsea in a cardboard box.
There is a saying that always irritated me about “keeping up with the Joneses.”
Bitch I don’t know the Joneses and they probably voted for tRump anyway so fuck all of them.
I only keep up with what impresses ME.
I love the Cosmo. I LOVE the pool with the techno music and $50 Cosmopolitans.
I also love that you don’t find a lot of riff-raff with Delta Amex cards. So the cheap seats haven’t been all that bad.
So, it’s rich-ish bitch summer. And VIP-ish summer. But still. Those tastes of the good life mean the difference between great and regrettable getaways.
Now to just work enough to keep RBS underway into perpetuity.
At least until internet money/PE summer kicks in.