Saturday, June 30, 2012
For various reasons, I have to go to Vegas next weekendIt was supposed to be for one main reason, but then another reason came up and I was like... yay for multi-tasking (which, if you knew the main reason, would make you think I'm a jerk, but I don't dispute that, so whatever)
I always forget how hot Vegas is - I mean, in my head, I'm aware that it's roughly 3 degrees hotter than the surface of the sun, but I live somewhere where I feel like melting when it's any warmer than 78 degrees, so hot has a different definition for me.
So I when I pack, I always bring cute clothes, stuff like my favorite jeans and maybe a dress or two, thinking that - it's a dry heat and everywhere is air-conditioned, so I can totally dress cute, regardless of the temperature. I'll also bring along my straightening iron so my hair can look cute.
Once I get to Vegas and the reality of the heat bends me over and spanks me and I end up wearing the same ponytail, gross tank top and supremely unflattering cut-off jeans the entire time. And I will complain non-stop about boob sweat. And, no matter how comfortable the shoes (flip flops) I bring are, I will end up with at least one blister. In short, Vegas makes me kind of grosser than I am in my normal day-to-day life and I really cannot understand anyone choosing to live there unless he or she is a lizard. Or cactus. (and there is a possibility that I will be going back at least once more this summer.)