Las Vegas Asexual Adventure Part Two – Blonde, Fake Tits 13/4/09
We got a table at Moon on Sunday night. The thing about going out in Las Vegas – if you want to be able to sit down at all, you need to pay $500+ to get a VIP table. Spesh tried to walk to the front of the line when we were getting in, saying we’re VIP, but it didn’t mean much, because the whole line was VIP.
I wandered around the club, talking to a few girls. Talked to this Colombian girl.
“I’m sorry – I don’t want to be rude to my friends!” Vegas girls all want to see what you’re made of.
“I don’t want to either – hey buddy, my name’s Jones,” and extended my hand.
The fat chode with facial hair that was a hideous cross-breed between a mullet and a goatee introduced himself. “Toby.”
“No, you don’ understan’!! I’m with heem!” said the Colombian.
I lost the set soon afterward. I grabbed a blonde with big fake tits, Elizabeth. I started my rap, I had a lot to say. Then she said she was here with the fat chode, I’m like, okayyy. I thought, just because he paid your cover charge for you to get in doesn’t mean you’re here with him.
They walked back to their table. I walked back to my table and sat down. Then Elizabeth walked past and sat down. Kinda surprised, but I rolled with it.
Chatted about some shit, she said she was a nurse studying to be a doctor. I said that’s cool. I qualified her saying it’s good that she has ambition because a lot of girls just settle. I kept grabbing her and kissing her neck. She loved it. Got the digits.
“Okay – I’ve really got to go find my brother now,” she said after about ten minutes.
“Cool.”
“No really – I’ll be back.”
“Cool,” I shrugged.
“Really – it’s my real number – call it. See!” She showed me her phone ringing with my number.
“That’s fine.”
“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
She walked off , but I wasn’t waiting. I went off to talk to some other girls.
I had a couple of leads, but nothing panned out. I need to be more ruthless out here. I made out with this girl who claimed to be a Hometown Hottie on www.maxim.com, but none of the girls on there called Rachel look like her. Spesh ended up stealing her off me and wall-slamming her a couple of times. What’s a wingman for?
We end up at Rhino and Tom-tom makes out with a stripper. I went to high-five him, but he said “nah man it’s not cool – the bouncer told her off. I hope she doesn’t get fired.” Oops.
Monday night is our night off, in theory. Spesh is tired after running bootcamp, but what do you know. He gets a text from a girl he’s been trying to nail for 16 months, and decides to go out to XS. Aster goes aswell. But they both end up with nothing, even after Spesh is chasing 18 year old Spanish girls down the street, jumping into their cab saying “Hey c’mere girl! Where are you going? What is this?! I’m English, I’m wearing a silver jacket.”
I called Elizabeth. She said “Hey.”
I said “Hey.”
She said “What are you doing?”
I said “Not much, just chilling at the hotel.”
“Cool. Come down to the Palomino. I’m working.”
“To your work? Won’t your boss be pissed?”
“Nah, it’s fine, trust me.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in an hour.”
I figured the Palomino must be another casino that I haven’t heard of. She told me she was a nurse, I guess this must be her night-job, behind the bar.
Downstairs. Doorman says “Where you headed?”
“The Palomino.”
“Oh. The Palo-mino. Ol’ Pal-o-mine. Yep yep yep.”
I jump in the cab and when we get there I see the sign. “World Famous Palomino”. Well, it ain’t that famous. “Live nude girls”. Yeah… It really isn’t that famous. Weirded out.
I thought the piece-de-resistance would be if Elizabeth’s picture was on the posters around the outside, but it wasn’t.
I texted her: “What is this shit?”
She called me and she’s all “I don’t know what to tell you…”
“You told me you were a nurse.”
“I am a registered nurse. Just come inside, I’m hanging out with my girlfriends.”
“What are you, some kind of promo girl?”
“Are you trying to insult me? Just come inside.”
“Are you going to get me in?”
“Uh I don’t know. Hold on a sec.” And she hung up.
I stood there for ten minutes with no idea what was going on. I thought, it looks like I have two choices. Take the taxi back to the hotel and end the story here, or go inside and see where this adventure takes me. Screw it, let’s do it.
I paid the $30 cover. There’s a sign on the wall saying “No baggy clothes. No shirts with pictures of rappers dead or alive. Pimps: Our girls do not want to ‘be on your team’.” I guess I’m farther from the Strip than I thought.
When I got inside, I couldn’t see her. I texted her asking her where she was.
“She left already. Said something about going to get her friend outside. He left, she said.”
What the fuck. I texted back saying “What are you talking about and who is this?”
Elizabeth came out with two friends who sat on my lap.
She said: “So, you made it out here! I came outside to find you but I thought you’d left.”
“Nah, I just didn’t know what you were doing – you hung up on me.”
“I was coming to find you!”
“Okay… Anyway you didn’t tell me the Palomino was a strip club – I thought I was coming to a casino.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Right.”
And then: “So, do you want to have some fun with me and my friends?”
“Not really.”
“Why not? Don’t you have any money?”
“No.”
“Credit card? You’ve got a 702 area code – you must have a credit card.”
“No, I paid for my SIM card in cash.”
“You must have some money on you.”
“No, I guess I’m just a broke-arse motherfucker.”
“That’s funny,” she said. Then they all walked off.
Then I walked off. I walked back to the hotel, walking past about two hundred homeless, and a black skinny crackhead who followed me around and asked my name about three times.
I texted Elizabeth: “You can’t just tell a guy to come meet you at the strip club you work at and expect him to be cool about it. Then you expect me to pay to hang out with you? That’s just retarded.” All the while, I was conscious of the irony of telling off a stripper for trying to get my money.
Her: “You’re BROKE. That’s why you’re offended. Fuck off, LOSER.”
Me: “No, I’m not. Good bye.”
I bought a burrito from Tacos Mexico on the way home, but I couldn’t eat it because it looked too damned disgusting. I’m glad I ordered the beef burrito, not the beef tongue or beef head burrito, otherwise I would have chucked. I left it on the top of a trash can so a homeless could find it, then went to the Strat to sleep.
Continued – Part Three – It’s Not Just The Strippers, Bitches – Protect Your Chicken Fingers.
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Comments (3)
Man, strippers are cunning in vegas haha.
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