So last night at about 8:30pm, my boss calls and asks what I'm doing. I inform him that I'm doing what I normally do on a Saturday night, which is hunker down on the couch in my sweats with a bowl of popcorn and an old favorite movie. (Yes, Vegas nightlife is wonderful).
Apparently that's not what HE had in plan for me, because he'd made arrangements for Studio 54 at the MGM Grand. So, I shed the sweats for a tight pair of jeans and a cleavage shirt (I'm 30, not dead) and met up with him and friend at the casino.
What transpired, ended up being (as always when I go out with the guys) an extremely fun evening, followed by an awakening to such bodily pain I wish I was dead. Whether it was from the booze, the thrashing my body took on the dance floor, the "too tight" shoes I wore, or just the fact that I'm not 23, I woke up to a hangover that could kill a moose.
All in all it was a fun night though. They've done some revamping of the place since I was there last, and now they actually have dancing girls/guys suspended from wires that "air dance" over the crowd. They also drop balloons and sparklies from the ceiling throughout the night. Quite a spectacle.
As I've said before, I'm the funny one. That means, while at the bar, I crack jokes, do a bit of dancing, hang out with the gang, and basically play the "dyke" roll when ugly guys hit on my cute girl friends. (That ones been over used, however, and the guys don't shy away anymore like they used to. Now they just ask to watch.)
Anywhoo...in any case, I'm not usually the one getting felt-up on the dance floor, especially when all my friends are enough eye candy for a Victoria's Secret catalogue. So when the young, unsuspecting bloke slimed up behind me and started to grind my ass, I didn't think too much of it. Apparently he was just passing through. Then he grabbed my waist. 'Ok,' I thought, 'No biggie, I'll just go with it.'
I shot off a 'keep your eyes on me' look to my boss, who gave me a drunken nod. I hate how guys are so obtuse at times...and the dance continued.
When the guy's hand slid down the front of my jeans however, I felt this little game had gone just a TAD too far. I elbowed him in the face, grabbed my boss (who is 6'5 and quite intimidating when he needs to be) and he stepped in and shoved the guy aside. And for the first time, I was the girl in the middle of the group being protected as we danced. As terribly shocked as I was, it was good to know that all my years of "protecting the flock" as it were, had paid off. I have to admit however, I rather enjoy being the funny one. Being the cute one just has WAY too many issues.