Lose Your Shorts....

....This is why you need to czech you parts.

Through one way or another one may have heard that I ventured to the most interesting land of Lost Wages. It was my friend Nat's 30th birthday and getting pretty close to mine as well. On top of all this, Ive never been there, making me a Vegas Virgin. All I can say is I was completely unprepared for what happened thereafter. What happens in Vegas should most definitely stay in Vegas. But heres a taster:

Las Vegas means "the plains", although there is nothing plain about it. Strangely for the first time in years the entire area was green and fairly lush for a complete wasteland. Go earth cycles!

The global flavor

Under the influence of friends

Frazzled and happy
in the sun

Photo-bombing is actually
quite fun

Overload would be a excellent label for the weekend. I still havent fully recovered, and almost never want to go there again. My gastrointestinal tract is pissed off. Internal clock is broken. Theres a plethora of external wounds, mostly attributed to the "Nightstand". I hate the nightstand.

Imagine waking up and feeling abused. Feeling violated. Sore. Then you look up all hazed from the corner of the room where you slept. You see something ominous. Something looking down upon the evil deeds it has done the night before. Theres 4 partially empty bottles, some spilled sitting atop, the built in shade is half broken. It stares at you, smoldering cigarette perched out of its slightly ajar drawer. You come to. Realizing "the nightstand" is to blame. Violated and ashamed, you crawl into the shower, never to look back, hungry for breakfast....