Chapter Forty Three; Divorce Land goes to Vegas!

According to our cultural code of silence, everything that happens in Sin City allegedly stays there. And I believe that is true because really, how many people do you actually know named Vegas? Exactly. I can't think of a one. Therefore, the pants may come off but the lips stay zipped. So, far be it from me to blow the lid off this supposed iron clad/mum’s the word/no I have never met a stripper named Titanic Tom/sinful shushing.

Therefore, I thought the most appropriate approach to this essay would simply be to compile a list of the juiciest dialogue from my past week in the city of high rollers and more boob jobs than one person should ever see in a lifetime let alone a weekend.

So here it is:

My Top Five OMG/you did not just say that Vegas Dialogue Stories

Exchange #1: The Mysterious Injury
Audra to her co-worker the first morning of her conference:

• Um, when our group put you in that cab at 3AM you didn’t have a black eye. What. The hell. Happened?
• Gee, I was hoping you could tell me . . .

Exchange #2: TMI Texting
All I am going to say is the reply is from my phone but not my fingers:

• Did you get some rest last night?
• Nope! I was up all night banging the pool boy.

Exchange 3: Drunken Desire
My intoxicated co-worker slurring to me about Sonja:

• I am drunk enough to ponder the concept of lust.
• Ponder over there, would you?

Exchange 4: Sonja The Flasher
Sonja to two complete strangers:

• You said you want to see my tattoos? Oh shoot, I’m wearing a dress. Alright if I lift it up over my thong to show to you?
(As if they needed to vocalize their vote? Let's just say I’ve never seen more frenzied nodding.)

Exchange 5: Why I Couldn’t Sleep in Vegas
Sonja to our very calm unfazed cab driver:

• What are they checking for again?
• Bombs. What? You didn’t know? Your hotel is an Al Qaida target.

So there you have it.

It was a wild week full of unexplained bruising, horizontally hustling of the hotel help, yearning contemplation, panty flashing, and threats of a bombing nature.

Just your average Vegas getaway really.

As for any scandalous fun?

Hey, you guys know the rules…that shit stays in the vault. I am not going to type one word about the cutie pie with the killer eyes from DC who licked champagne off my . . . .

. . . hehehehe . . .

. . . never mind!

Viva!

Las Vegas!