Sin and the City

breakfast buffet + bathing suit = full body shot phobia
Even before Swingers made "Vegas Baby!" a household catchphrase, Angelenos have always fled to Las Vegas to gamble. I mean, that's the lure isn't it? L.A. is already a desert loaded with strip clubs and world class restaurants. Since I hate to gamble, I have a hard time jumping on the Vegas bandwagon.

"Why don't they make a Kardashian channel and get it over with?"
When my East Coast friends start getting an itch for Vegas, I tell them they make a cream for that. But I'll make the roadtrip out there of course. Being 3,000 miles away from old friends is a good reason to visit Sin City. In fact, I don't hate everything in Vegas. I love the Mirage breakfast buffet (Pho and French toast???) and I love lounging at the pools. It's at sundown that everyone goes wild. That's when I like to crawl into bed, pour some Maker's Mark into a tumbler and enjoy a Forensic Files marathon - if I can weed through the tangled filter of Kardashian programming.

Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill at Caesar's Palace
A decade after Swingers, Americans became obsessed with reality TV, and second-tier celebs and heiresses started making appearance deals with the clubs. When reality stars show up, Americans on a Vegas vacation from small towns  flock to the watering hole, camera phones in hand. Sixteen dollar cocktails be damned. The club owners experience a windfall of cash, which motivates them get contracts signed with Laguna Beach alumni. In L.A., tabloid-addicted twenty-somethings and their jealous douchebag boyfriends throw away hundreds, even thousands of dollars for a weekend in Vegas, so they can brag about their hangovers, and being in the same club with Holly Madison and the douches that throw the parties (see Cy Waits).

I'm just happy to see old friends.

Kristy Kostyniuk, me & Shelly Bailey

Vegas breakfast
Sometimes getting there is half the fun
sausage party
cigarette break after singing Jenny Lewis at the top of our lungs

The Mirage

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