Life’s a B**** in Vegas

25 08 2013

Las-Vegas636_0Las Vegas. An oasis in the middle of nowhere—could be anywhere, depending on how much tequila is in those yard-long margaritas. Visit far away places: Paris, New York, Italy or reproductions of the like, and experience the world through a city made of stardust—one that sparkles at night from the glitter of one thousand strippers—the reflective quality of vomit, as one frat boy from Kentucky learns how to drink like an a**h*** for the very first time.

Strangers from all over the world come to get strange for a million different reasons that all too often begin with a bad idea: The bachelor party; The 21st birthday; EDC and ecstasy. Shall I continue? The girls’ trip is an altogether different kind of animal. One that should be feared or taken more seriously when one drunken girlfriend chimes up at the neighborhood bar:

girls trip“Hey! You know what? Like, we should all go to Vegas! Girls’ trip!”

Collectively, women are far more dangerous in a group than men are. Women are smarter, better looking and way more creative when it comes to rejection.

The expectations of a girls’ trip to Vegas are pretty simple: get as much from as many people as you possibly can.

For women, the thrill is all in the details—the details of looking hot. It’s looking as good as you can so that you can get as much as possible for free. Free drinks, free club cover, free food, free, free, free, free. Las Vegas validates one of the many quasi truths in our society: that young pretty women are important for being young and pretty—and in Las Vegas, women cash-in big on this nightmare to an excess that would make any reasonable man questions his gender and the superstition that men are in-fact superior intellectual beings. Case-in-point:

The nomadic girls’ battle battalion consists of several strategic players—girls that individually are less valuable but collectively are the sum of an impenetrable circular force on the dance floor. Only as good as the weakest link, the girls’ group strives for balance in circumstance that is inevitably imbalanced—as men and women fight for control in a seemingly out of control city.

The Body.the body2 Every girl group needs a super hot, grade A piece of a** to bring men down from their hotel balconies and into the pool. The hot girl has one of the hardest jobs—she’s usually the reason men show up, but she’s also the reason they leave. Body babes are cold and usually not very interesting by virtue of their hotness.  But they’re meat on a hook that maintains a successfully lethal girls’ group in Vegas.

the brain 2The Brain. Who hasn’t had a run in with the police or security in Las Vegas? The brain is easily marked by her sobriety. While everyone is taking shots, she is having a relatively good time sober—watching out for the herd, making sure no one takes off their clothes. She can talk the group out of bad decisions; talk them into worse ones if it so pleases her. But don’t let her sweetness be distracting—this girl will bite. The brain is also the girl that gets into fistfights at the bar over feminist theory. Don’t ever try to explain to her why women can’t fight on the front lines in Afghanistan.

the boss finalThe Boss. The leader—the girl with more experience than the rest. She is spontaneous, the life of the party and usually the first person to disappear with a guy—and then reappear with someone else. The boss usually does most of the strategic talking after the body has pulled a bait and switch. She’s witty and uses innuendo to entice weak men into dilemma. She enjoys watching men cry and believes she is doing the world a service by taking advantage of their checkbooks. She is confident and interesting but deeply disturbed by her inability to trust people.

the brain

The Boyfriend. This girl somehow always manages to find herself in Vegas when she is in a deeply committed relationship subjecting her morality and commitment to tests with serious consequence. This gal usually will try to reason with the others over why going to a strip club is a bad idea when it’s clearly an amazing idea. Everyone makes fun of her for being so lame though in reality the rest of the girls are secretly jealous of how happy she is. “Why did we bring her?” No one will ever really know, but the girls’ trip wouldn’t be complete without someone in the bathroom FaceTiming their boyfriend at 3:30 in the morning.


The B****. No need to explain this one. If a gal isn’t a body, a brain, a boss or a boyfriend, chances are, she’s a b****, which means she is doing whatever the brain or the boss says the group is doing. She’s there to make-out with random strangers so that other random strangers think they stand a chance and get in line to buy shots. She adds girth to an otherwise slim girls’ group, and for men it’s all about numbers, so the more drunk girls the better. Don’t be ashamed ladies—b***** really do make the world go round.

So the next time you go on a girls’ trip to Las Vegas, make sure you’ve got all your bases covered. Push your tits up, spray on some sweet perfume and have a blast making fun of how stupid being young and stupid actually is. But don’t take my word for it—take a look and see for yourself!





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