But you knew that. So Jet was lame and then that guy ate my sundae then we went to Pure, a club inside Caesar's Palace. To add insult to injury, I had to "check" my lame Margaritaville bag (with my super cute, super cruel shoes inside) at the door and pay 5 bucks. DUMB! Anyways, we wandered around for a bit and then decided to go up to the top floor to dance because there was lots more room, though the techno music kind of sucked. We ended up dancing with these guys from Sweden (not many American boys in Vegas) and guessing at their sexuality all night. It was determined that European men are metrosexual and it's really hard to tell if they are straight or not. Gotta tell ya, I wasn't sold on their rhythm either, not the best dancers.
So this story is kind of lame, sorry about that. I did get hit on by this guy from Jersey that night. I told him my name was Sam and that I had a boyfriend. He proceded to tell me that my boyfriend was "f!#%in' lucky." I must admit, I agree, whoever gets me will be f!#%in' lucky indeed.
Here are some pictures from the night:
3 comments:
I agree with the guy from Jersey . . . though I'd probably reverse it. In fact, I think our friendship and how I feel about you can be summarized by three little words as well. You're damn lucky. lol Glad to read that you haven't lost your sense of humor :)
The guy from Jersey sounded like a catch. Too bad you lied!
Josh, you're a little mixed up. :) Congratulations on the 3rd (or 4th...) Guess I could e-mail this to you seeing how I don't know how often you check my comments. Oh well.
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