Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Mellow …

E is off to Taco Bell.  I feel too out-of-sorts to do anything right now.  Not necessarily “bad” out-of-sorts … just weird.  Very zen, actually.  Everything seems a-ok to me right now.  No stress … no anxiety.  Just chilled out … listening to the Eagles.  That’s a clue that I’m chill … I NEVER listen to the Eagles unless I’m like taking a bath or something.  This is a fantastic song … “but here in my heart, I give the best of my love … oooooooooh sweet darling … you get the best of my love … “  I feel like I should be sitting around a campfire and swaying. 

Best. Wedding. Ever.

I mean to post about this yesterday but since only 1/2 of my brain is currently working (up from 1/4 th yesterday  morning), it’s taken me a while to remember how to form coherent sentences.  I spent the hardest partying 24 hours of my life this weekend in Vegas.  Without getting married or going to jail.  No small feat.  I have a feeling that this will be a multi-post topic:  (a) because there is sooooo much to discuss and (b) because a lot of details are coming to me with the passing of time. 

I’m still not allowed to post the names of the parties involved but … 2 good people.  We’ll call them “Sheila” and “Scott.”  On our way to Vegas, we get word from “Sheila” that she has already lost her marriage license at the Craps table and has to go back and find it.  Luckily, she did get it back.  C & I do a quick 4 1/2 hour jaunt to Vegas with a quick stop for Arby’s (best. fast. food. ever.  I seriously dream about that Beef and Cheddar diet.  So not on the Lisa Starvation Diet.)  We arrive at Treasure Island (ahoy!) and I promptly shoot a text of my room number to my pbf for use when I forget where I’m staying in the middle of the night (this job is usually Kim’s but since she has a baby, I know that she needs every bit of her sleeping time.  I have no qualms about waking up KC in the middle of the night.  It’s part of his role as my pbf.  See Platonic Boyfriend Handbook, chapter 8:  Drugs, Alcohol, and the Plationic GF:  Dos and Dont’s. 

We run downstairs to meet Sheila at the bar and discover she is already completely wasted.  (Sample quote to begin the evening:  Callie:  “What time is it?”  Sheila:  “Hammer.”)  We realize that we do not have alcohol for our limo ride over to the Elvis Wedding Chapel so Sheila tries to get the bartender to surrender his giant ice bin for us to take.  That was a no-go but we did get a bucket with a bunch of beer to take with us.

The Wedding itself was AMAZING.  I have little to no interest of ever getting married, BUT, that said, if I ever DID decide to do such a thing, this is the way to go.  We had the “young Elvis” walk Sheila down the aisle.  He also performed “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “Blue Suede Shoes” during the ceremony.  Even better, he was seriously coked-up and snorted every few minutes, which added to the three-ring circus atmospher.  He also told me I resembled a “young Tina Turner” do to my dancing during the wedding.  That was a new one.  Greatest. Wedding. Ever.  I have NEVER had that much fun at a wedding.  I fully want one, now.  I wonder if I could get someone to “fake” marry me just so I could do this.  Bad idea, Lisa.  Bad bad bad bad.  Now that the idea is in my head, I hope that someone is planning to watching me in July and preventing me from walking down the aisle.  Right now, this seems like an experience I need to have.  Uh-oh.

We ended the night with 5 hours of committed ass-shaking at Studio 54.  Where I did get some free drinks from the hot bartender guy (I’m so magic with bartenders) and danced with about 1000 people.  Approx.  So fun.  And told two guys that I wasn’t having a threesome with them by using the patented LP “sign-language sex rejection” that many of you will remember from college.  (“WE are NOT having SEX, TONIGHT!!!)  I know that I spoke to darling KC at some point during the evening although what was said during that call is beyond me.  I also called him even later than that, as anticipated, to ask him where my room was located.  And he answered me.  With no bitching about waking him up in the middle of the night.  Love KC.  He’s totally in the circle of trust, now. 

Soooo …. due to all the alcohol and some Chinese food I had earlier, I wound up not sleeping.  We returned to the room at 5 am where Callie slept till 10.  I, however, did various and sundry things.  Such as trying to blog via my phone (doesn’t work), thinking about people who would want to have a phone chat with me at 6 a.m. (couldn’t think of a single person), and taking a bath (started to fill the bathtub and then was distracted by something else.)  Left at 10 and was home by 3:30.  I then slept for 3 hours before awakening, eating, and then returning to sleep for 9 hours.  All in all … a very successful evening.   Still exhausted.  Glad that tonight is tv night.  I have nothing in my tank.  Good thing is that “Operation Skinny Bitch” and “Operation Drunk Whore” successfully merged to become “Operation Drunk Skinny Whore” and I lost another pound.  The 5 hours of ass-shaking may have something to do with that.