You Know How Us Catholic Girls Can Be

Traditionally for Lent, Catholics give up something they really enjoy in order to better themselves as human beings and God's children. It's been a long time since I participated in such a thing, but this year I decided to give up gambling. I never win and having a stipulation like God condemning me to hell made me think that giving it up for 40 days would be pretty easy. Uh no.
I cut corners here and there, justifying it as paying for my drinks. I would play a little video poker on Sundays since Sundays aren't included in the 40 days of Lent. That was the extent of my Lental sins until this week. I kind of threw it all to shit and started playing table games...knowing damn well that I am a shit gambler and make stupid bets that always lose. The first night I did okay at the little shit casino down the street. Since I was up I decided to go play at my friend's table at the Venetian. I could afford about three hands which I lost. I didn't care about losing $200. I rationalized it as being one day's work. No big deal. Then we got fucking robbed. That was another two night's wages down the drain.
I was kind of pissed off and thought that since I had been stolen from I now deserved to win. Apparently it doesnt work like that. I lost another $300 in the past two days. That makes a grand total of $800 I now no longer have. I"m going to quit gambling now for the rest of my life. I'm not going to have my "gambling extravaganza" on Easter Sunday, I'm not going to win my money back, and I'm not going to hold on to the chips that are in my bedroom (they are getting cashed in and taken to the bank). So this is it, the only money I am going to get out of the casino from now on is going to be in the form of tips and paychecks...but isn't that how it always was?

An Update

So, yeah it's been a month since I posted. What can i say? I've been busy as hell and I'm lazy as shit. I can't remember the last time I went out and a good nights sleep is a figment of my imagination at this point.

I was working two jobs. Okay not really. I had two jobs when I went in to work one night and left with zero. I got fired for the first time in my life. Job number one was at a Brazilian steakhouse. I was serving cocktails for the biggest assholes I have ever worked for in my life... a nazi bitch and a some chick from Bulgaria. I didn't have a chance. Everything I did was wrong and when I did what they told me it was still wrong. What the fuck? They called me stupid and worthless, cheated me on my tips, and bitched about me to the other workers. It took me so long to find that job that I couldn't leave until I had another one lined up, which fucking really sucked because the job was terrible.

When I had a chance to cocktail, I jumped on it. I got hired there provided I passed my drug test. That was an ordeal in itself. I had 24 hours notice to erase any evidence of my past experiences. I needed to get my roots done anyway, so I had Meghan call into the Brazilian place for me. She told them I was in the hospital. Their response was less than sympathetic. I believe they said "yeah, good, good bye" and hung up on her. When I showed up the next day, they told me not to come back until I brought a hospital note. Since I didn't have one I never went back. That was how I lost job number one. That same day I got a call from the Rio telling me that they didn't get my drug test results back so not to bother coming in for orientation. Fuck was the first word that came to my mind. Everyone told me that blecahing my hair wouldn't make me pass the drug test and I was pretty much not going to get hired. I prayed for a miracle and got it. I started the next week.

The job kicks ass. I love it so much. I have so much fun it's like I'm not ever working and I make more money in one night than I did in two weeks at the Brazilian shithole. I got drunk one night and went in and told them that. I felt like an asshole the next morning, but in hindsight it was something that I really wanted to do. Everyone thinks cocktails would be an easy job. Don't get me wrong, it's not hard, but it is hard work. Carrying around a 15 pound tray while wearing two inch heals for eight plus hours makes you tired. I've lost all the feeling in one finger. It's like someone shot it with novacaine. It's felt this way for four days now. I've got blisters on my feet that are filling with blood and a toenail that is so bruised I think it might fall off. At least now I could afford to see a doctor.

Ghetto Fab

Meghan and I thought we had successfully ditched our last ghetto "friend." Meghan finally got the point across to the only guy that was still calling that we weren't interested. He asked if he could hollar at us and Meghan asked if he knew our names yet...he admittedly answered no. Dumbass. He could have at least guessed. She explained we both had boyfriends so he called us some fucked up bitches and told us he wouldn't come around anymore. Damn. Are we supposed to be upset about that, because we're not. Who wants a 36 year old crackhead with no teeth hollaring at them? Not us.

That would have been the end of our guest list had some guy not gotten stabbed in front of our apartment. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We went outside to clean my car out and this dude comes around the corner flipping out, bleeding like crazy, talking about how is going to "cap this motherfucker." He saw us and asked if we remembered him. I didn't until later...we meet a lot of people on the street, how the hell can we remember all of them? He walked into our apartment and asked us to bandage him like we are Florence fucking Nightingale or something. We aren't going to leave some dude bleeding on our carpet so we helped him out. Then he gets on the phone and starts calling people asking him to bring him some heat so he can take care of this shit that just happened. What the fuck...we can't be having shootouts in our fucking living room. I think we calmed the guy down a little. When he left he was saying how he was only going to half kill him, you know like beat him with a baseball bat. I guess it's better than shooting him. We saved a life...I feel good.

Sorry I Don't Swing That Way

Looking for a job in Vegas was getting really tough so when I saw an ad in the paper for a cashier/hostess position that paid $136 daily, I had to apply. It said to do it person, so I got myself dressed up and drove over to the shittiest looking bar in Las Vegas. The door said adult lounge and spa. Okay, sure...I can deal with that. I asked the bar tender for an application, filled the fucking thing out and applied for the hostess position. I even wrote a note on the application saying how I was really interested in the position and to please give me a call. After I was all finished the bartender looked at me and said, "you know this is a swinger's club, right? You know what that means don't you?" To be fucking honest I didn't. Some guy offered me a tour and me being all naive and shit, was like "okay, sure...sounds cool." The dude's name was Fernando. He was really excited to help.

He took me around a corner to this dark room lit only by red lights. He pointed to a back area and said "These are the private rooms. That's where the hostess gives rub downs and lap dances." What the fuck...that was the position I fucking applied for. Fuck if I knew that I would have to fucking sit on some assholes dick and shake my ass around.

Next stop on the tour was the common room complete with a sex swing, where accoording to Fernando a lot of really good parties get started, and a stripper pole. Nice. I asked Fernando if he worked there since he knew so much about the place. No he didn't, which means that he was just some perv that hung out there all the time....at all hours of the day no less.

Room two was just a fucking bed and some couches...kind of boring. Next room over was the designated orgy room. Uh, yeah. One big bed on a stage and that was it. I was just about in shock, but nothing prepared me for what happened next.

The last room was about the size of a closet. In it was some top of the line exercise equipment from 1985. I asked Fernando if that was for some sort of wierd exercise fetish. He laighed at me and told me no. Since it is technically called a spa they have to have exercise equipment in order to be legitimate. Then he points me over to the hottub. Yeah, nice....whatever. So I'm looking around and fucking Fernando points me out to the fact that he has whipped his dick out and is fucking jerking himself off in front of me. Oh my god. Fucking wow. I couldn't fucking believe it. He tried to tell me that it was normal to do such things. Yeah it was a swinger's club, but it was also 2:00 in the afternoon and he was giving me a fucking tour. I asked a couple of people...apparently that is not proper swinger etiquette. I'm not one to be rude so I let him finish the tour with his dick in his hand...it lasted about thirty more seconds.

About 12:30 that night my phone rang offering me a job. Needless to say I declined. Thank god I found something else the next day, and even though the people I were with are assholes at least I don't have to touch anyone.

I Love Being a Girl

Being a girl in Vegas is fucking great. I have never gotten so hooked up in my life. Boys here just like to give you their money. Talk to them for five minutes and your sure to get a couple of drinks out of it, maybe some money to gamble with, and if your good maybe a free meal. The best part is you can leave right after its over and they can't really say much but bye. Here's a few examples from last night.

Free donuts from Krispy Kreme. Dude was so cool. Actually anybody can get free donuts, you just have to ask.

Some guy gave me money. I asked him for change and he just handed me the cash. I was like, "Here you go, thanks", you know trying to give him the change. He was like, "no, doll, just take it...can i buy you a drink?" I actually made a profit.

But sometimes guys can be really lame...like when they are from Austrailia, or when try to buy you, or tell you that they play major league baseball, or are Ja Rule's roadmanager. Come on, dude...does that actually work ever? And its fucking really lame when old guys try to make younger guys look bad. We met this 25 year old last night who was out with his colleagues, they were all in their 40's and 50's. some guy was like, "you know he's underage?" I turned around and was like "only compared to you." Yeah, that shut him up real quick.

About Billy

So high school must really suck these days, or at least suck enough that sitting on a porch alone is more fun than attending it. Today we met this kid named Billy. He sat on our porch for approximately three hours before we invited him in...poor kid must have been so fucking bored. He let us contribute to his dilenquency. We gave him some wine and some lunch and I think by the time he left he was pretty fucked up. We also gave him an art history lesson, complete with visuals. I actually have an art minor, so I do have some credentials. I hope he doesn't make a habit of it though. Education is really important, and one day when you have had enough of it you can get a really great paying job and do everything you ever wanted to...yeah right, I'm still waiting.

Somebody Kill Me

Coming off a two day drinking binge is not easy. Dry heaving over a toilet for nine hours is even less fun. I don't understand where it went wrong. I only drank non stop for 24 consecutive hours. I didnt even know i could stay up that long. I've only done it one other time in my life...somehow i managed to stay up for 43 hours, but that was in college and I haven't done it since. This city is so great...only in Las Vegas can you walk into a night club at 9:30 in the morning and not be the only one in there, and then get the bartender to give you his cell so you can call all your college roomates and chat for three hours. Going home at 2:30 in the afternoon is so much cooler than going home at 2:30 in the morning. Whoever came up with the idea of last call should be shot. It was fun while it lasted but being hungover at 7:00 on Monday evening because of your Saturday night is a little exaggerated.

Why I Love This Town

1. Even the little dive bars off the strip are open 24 hours a day.
2. My ego gets boosted every time I stop at a red light.
3. People are really happy here including the crackhead digging through my dumpster.
4. The sun shines every day and at night the lights are so bright it appears to be daylight.
5. There is always something to do, even at 6:00 a.m.
6. I haven't been cut off or thrown out yet.
7. I've had better things to do than update my weblog.
8. 99 cent breakfasts at 4:00 a.m.
9. There are 100 pages of "entertainer" ads in the phone book. I swear to god there is a stripper for everyone and every taste. Did you know that the wet spot a stripper leaves after a lap dance is commonly referred to as a snail trial? That's only a little gross. Yeah, and strippers in clubs also sort of prostitute themselves....blow jobs and hand jobs can be included for the right price. This whole time I just thought they took their clothes off. Fascinating.
10. Fake fur and glitter...I love dressing up.