April 21st, Las Vegas: I wake up in a haze, slowly putting the pieces of last night back together. I stop by a friends place and find him packing a bowl
“You gonna hit this with me Bond?”
“Nah dude, I just woke up, can’t see how that’d be a good idea.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a wake and bake, it’s a great way to start your day.”
“Wake and bake you say?”
Hmm, am I really going to start a day date by getting blazed?

I head over to the apartment of the girl from last night totally blazed. I am attempting to act normal, but I can tell that my speech has taken on its standard nonsensical rambling pattern that it falls into whenever I’ve been smoking. I figure I’ll just come off charmingly eccentric.

We go to the Bellagio for breakfast, which I turn into lunch by ordering a burger. After breakfast we go shopping over at Caesars because I need cufflinks and jeans plus I want to look at suits, which I don’t need but am always tempted to buy. I find one I like at Hugo Boss, but manage to refrain from buying it and find a tasteful pair of steel cufflinks that can go with pretty much any shirt (versatility is key in my opinion.)

We return to the Bellagio and drop the stuff off then discuss what we should do next. I suggest we go to dinner and then Mix at the top of Mandalay Bay. On the cab ride over she announces to the driver that she can rap and asks if he wants to hear it. He says sure. She immediately launches into an enthusiastic r word for word recital of ‘Baby Got Back’ for a few verses. At the end the cab driver dryly says “I don’t like rap.”
“Well then what do you want me to sing?” she asks
“Hmm…Mariah Carey.”
Somehow the conversation gets crazier from there and the cabbie starts telling us random stories about ex-girlfriends. He asks about our being a couple
“No we just met last night” she says “We haven’t banged yet, I save that for the second date, which is today” she adds jokingly.
I hold up my crossed fingers and say “One time dealer.”
This prompts the cab driver to start intimately discussing his past sex life, particularly a story about an ex who was apparently in porn and how took him forever to get her to finish.
“Did you remember to work the clit?” I ask
“Of course dude!” he then elaborates in considerable detail precisely what he did to her, including slapping and strangulation.

We arrive at the hotel and thank the driver for the strange ride. Inside the casino we walk past a cigar store and go pick a few out to smoke upstairs. We take the elevator to the top floor, and then enter Mix, which has an incredible view over the entire strip from the South most point. We lounge around on a couch smoking and drinking red wine. A mutual friend calls her and suggests we go to ‘The Artisan’ for cocktails. When slightly drunk more drinking seems like a brilliant idea, so I immediately agree.

‘The Artisan’ turns out to be a small Vegas casino slightly off the strip that I have never seen before. It doesn’t look like much, but inside everything is covered in art, almost every foot of wall and article of furniture is pure swank. We meet Matt G and some girl he knows inside. The bar happens to be having it’s karaoke night. I demand that Matt comes up and sings ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling’ with me. After some prodding he agrees. I am yelling song lyrics into a microphone in my left hand, and quickly downing a ‘Blue Moon’ beer in my right.

After much singing and drinking more friends arrive and they suggest going to ‘The Rhino’. Surprisingly, she agrees to this. Sweet. We take a cab over and get in line. At the door they tell her it is a $50 entry fee. She refuses on the count that she is a girl and paying that to see fake tits is outrageous. I happen to agree with her, but she’s laying into the bouncer good enough for the both of us so I just let her do the talking. The other guys go in and we decide to leave instead. Fake breasts bore me anyway.

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