Epistolary Thoughts on Las Vegas (or, as my dad calls it, Lost Wages)

To my dearest darling readers:

I've been to Las Vegas twice now: once in December for the Spice Girls reunion concert and once just this past weekend for my friend Cat's bachelorette party.  I've been meaning to fill you in on the Spice Girls concert for weeks now, and the above photos of my most recent Vegas vacation taken by my friend Erin were just too good not to share right away.

The Spice Girls concert was amazing.  The girls were all really singing—no lipsynching at all.  Even Posh sang, although she had the fewest solos of all the girls.  She even seemed to be having fun.  So unlike her!  Sporty and Scary carried the show in terms of energy.  Sporty was clearly the best singer of the group and is deserving of the nickname Talented Spice.  Any tricky contrapuntal descants were always sung by her.  And any rapping (like during Wannabe) was done by Scary, who I love and who totally deserved to win Dancing with the Stars.  The night of the concert was also the night of the Mayweather Hatton fight at which Floyd Mayweather was walked into the ring by his Dancing with the Stars buddies Helio Castroneves, Mark Cuban, and Wayne Newton.  Sadly, because it was competing with the fight there were a lot of empty seats at the Spice Girls show.  Vegas was overrun with Brits who were there to see Hatton.  Abby, Alida, and I made supercool English boyfriends the night before the show: one who ditched us when I told him he reminded me of Ricky Gervais; one who was so drunk that he kept nodding off sitting at a slot machine and who had forgotten to close his tab at an entirely different casino; and one whose initials were J.J.J. and who tried to kiss both me and Abby.  Fun!

As for Cat's bachelorette party, Friday night began with a pajama jammy jam in our fabulous suite at Ceasar's.  Later that night Erin and I headed downstairs to Pure, where Erin's friend Justin, Las Vegas resident and son of Beach Boy Bruce Johnston, got us into the VIP section.  I managed to keep my cool with Justin, although I was dying to ask how many cameo appearances his dad made on Full House and to slip Beach Boys lyrics into the conversation.  (It would have been so easy—my dad actually owns a little deuce coupe!)  Also in the VIP section that night was Jerry Rice, who Erin and I spent forever trying place before we finally realized we recognized him from Dancing with the Stars.  He was dancing mere inches away from us and he was a good sport about having his picture taken.  More elusive was Wilmer Valderrama, who was short, thick, and swarthy in person and who brushed past us on his way to the other side of the VIP section.  The quote of the evening was surely "Your sequins are caught on my rhinestones," a phrase which is only ever uttered in Las Vegas.

Saturday night we all began the evening at Tao, where Cat and her sisters danced on our VIP table and where I helped Erin apply lip gloss while wearing my new ring—it was my Valentine's Day gift from Jim and is made out of a PBR can.  Love!  We then headed to Pure for Paris Hilton's birthday party.  We missed her performance with the Pussycat Dolls, but we did get to see her blow out her candles.  The general consensus among my friends was that Paris looked like a drag queen or a Paris Hilton impersonator.  I imagine it's easy when you're famous to become a parody of yourself.  I didn't think the way she looked was nearly as offensive as the way she sounded.  Seriously: Paris Hilton should never speak.  Her voice is absurdly high-pitched, and about all she had to say was "Do you like my dress?  I wish I could have stayed in my Pussycat Doll costume."  I didn't recognize any members of her entourage with the exception of her orange publicist Elliot Mintz, who spent several minutes tying his polka dot tie around the neck of a leggy brunette.

So both of my Vegas vacations were star-studded successes.  Once I got past the pervasive scent of stale cigarette smoke and desperation, the sense that the locals, the cab drivers and cocktail waitresses, are constantly competing to chauffeur and serve the highest rollers, and the nagging suspicion that I don't deserve such overindulgences, I really came to enjoy Sin City.

Love,

Lauren

Comments

[Whitney]

Paris = drunken Barbie hooker.

[Megan]

Did Paris change dresses half way through the night? I wish I lived such a life.

[Melissa]

"Your sequins are caught on my rhinestones" is my new favorite catchphrase.

[Canada Goose Outlet]

Avid follower of HHC.. Felt good reading the interview!!