I got back to the casino (The Wynn) after shopping for a couple hours and saw all the girls in the lobby bar with a bunch of guys I didn't know.
I walked up and said, "Hey, kids. What's up?" There was drinking and smoking in progress. The guys on the sofa at the table said "Hey come sit over here!" So I shoved my Neiman's bags under the table and ordered an Absolut Mandarin and tonic, which I didn't pay for.
I had just gotten my makeup done at Laura Mercier and I looked good. I had my hair done in loose braids and pinned up in a sexy mess, which I shook loose in a cascade of blonde waves (at the moment, my hair is really long, like 1997 long) and then the guy to my right said he was Frank from New Jersey and he liked my hair down better than up even though I was hot both ways and 20 minutes later we were making out and people took pictures. We were holding hands or leaving hands on thighs and I was calling him "Sugar." It was pretty much the land speed record for DisRespecca getting a little play, or a Vegas Boyfriend, as I call it. It was 5 in the afternoon and I was sober. I don't know about Frankie, but he was making sense and he wasn't slurring.
Neither one of us was sober when I called him later that night. In fact, he was passed out on the sofa. I have no idea what time it was. I just know we were headed for some crazy underground late night club and I was tired of walking and I didn't know how much further we had to walk and I was cold, and I saw that Caesar's was across the street so I left Gillian with the Canadian cowboy who just got out of jail for armed robbery who was giving her a piggy back ride down the Strip because her shoes where even more ridiculous than mine, and I actually called Jersey Joe's phone number which was written on my arm along with the suite number and told him I was looking for Frankie.
They met me in the lobby and convinced me I would not be killed if I went to their room. I know, technically I'm an idiot, but it turns out I was right because I am still alive and unscathed and everyone behaved like gentlemen, which they had earlier as well.
I think I had a drink. I know I turned the air conditioning down because I was hot and that I get hot when I drink too much. I know Frankie and I kissed on the couch like teenagers for a while. It's all a blur.
I just know I woke up fully clothed and freezing and I was pretty sure that my Laura Mercier had melted down my face at some point and I did not want to be there when anyone else woke up, and my phone was nearly dead at 7 am and I called my dad and told him to pick me up outside Caesar's Palace. Nice suites in that joint, by the way. And it was cold outside, which was good, because I was in bad shape and the cold helped with the nausea.
My dad and step-Linda drove me home and I had to ask dad to pull over on Tropicana so I could get sick. I went to bed and slept until 4 pm. Then I ate some chicken noodle soup, got dressed and went to dinner at Shintaro at the Bellagio where I was the queen of making out with strangers. I win!
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