Never before have I needed 2 solid days of recovery.

So I got back from Vegas on what, Monday? Yes, Monday. And it’s now Thursday. And I think it’s safe to say that I am at last recovered. This past weekend was what we fondly refer to as Dis-O, where all the second years gather in Vegas to consume vast quantities of tasty drinks, gamble away the government loan money we still have remaining, shake our asses all over each other, and generally enjoy the desert sun. Since a weekend is a long time I’ll do this highlight style. So keep in mind that these highlights are purely my own and you may find them highlight-like at all. If you don’t like them I invite you to create and post your own set of highlights. Or just get over yourself.

Highlight #1 (O reveals disgusting information): Sat night was spent dining at Fix and then dancing at Caramel and Light at the Bellag in honor of XTina’s bach party + the fact that I met Sauj’s MIT friends who are pretty much awesome. I don’t know who is adopting who, but someone is adopting someone. Anyway. So at dinner a certain section mate’s sig-o sat beside me. Champagne apparently makes her talk about how great her honey’s ass is. She also discussed other assets. Use your imagination. I think I barely avoided throwing up in my mouth. I will never, ever let her drink champagne in my presence again.

Highlight #2 (worst pick-up line ever): Don’t ever say this to a girl: “I mean, not that we’re going to have sex, but, if we did have sex, I have this feeling that it’s pretty much amazing. I’m talking, you’d be moaning and screaming.” Wow, please, take me home. That was so classy. That’s what I love most about Vegas.

Highlight #3 (I think I’m over strip clubs): Around 1:30 we were danced out and headed to the Crazy Horse II, which, no lies here, I’ve enjoyed before. There was actually much discussion in Vegas about how most women actually prefer to watch female strippers over male strippers. I guess it’s b/c men’s bodies can be hot but aren’t all that theoretically sexy to begin with and then when you put them in gross little man thongs and make them gyrate in ways that are essentially feminine they really aren’t sexy. Thank you Fins for enlightening me with this theory. I finally have a plausible explanation. At any rate, so I’m at the Crazy Horse. And I think it’s when I’m in the bathroom watching a gross stripper have a heart to heart with the gross bathroom attendant, or maybe when I see the worst boob job ever up on stage at one point, or maybe when I see what some me will welcome into their faces by women who smell mostly like Victoria’s Secret Sparkling Pear with a touch o’ vag that I realized that stripping is not all that I’d cracked it up to be. Time to give up on that career. Good thing I have something with bleach lined up. So anyway, we were about to leave when Sauj was dragged (and when I say dragged I mean literally, Brle) back in, and being nice, didn’t want to leave her, so followed. I ordered a RedBullV and lazily watched the boobies, and it hit me how badly I didn’t want to be there. According to Jason I turned incredibly cunty at that point and went home. And hence the epiphany: I guess I’m over strip clubs.

Highlight #4 (I recover from the SC through food): I arrived home shortly after 3. Last McDonald’s call at the Monte Carlo: 3. And I’m minutes late. I let them announce at least 10 times that they are C-L-O-S-E-D and then literally threw myself onto the counter and begged for food. Them: “Umm, again, we’re CLOSED.” Me: “No, oh no, you don’t understand. I think I might die tomorrow if you don’t give me food and it will be mostly your fault. Seriously I’m going to vomit everywhere if you don’t give me…those fries, those ones right there. And a sandwich?” Them: “We have one burger.” Me: “Yes, ok, great, one burger. And the fries.” [which are size massive super fat thighs large] I have a credit card.” Them: “WHAT? Credit card machine is closed.” Me: “I have $2.” Them: “No, you have $3.” Me: “I have $3.” Them: “Your food is $3. Miraculous. Goodbye.” The fries were gone within less than 3 min is my guess. Meliss was about to ask for some when I returned to the room but she was too late. I was one hungry lady.

Highlight #5 (ReHab in its entirety): I think we had 2 or 3 alarms set for the morning so we could wake up and grab chairs at ReHab. Someone new got angry every time a new alarm went off. I was trying to be the motivator. We rolled into Rehab by 10:30ish. Not a chair in sight. Shoulda listened, bitches. So I don’t know how to describe Rehab, but I think I have found my latest obsession.

If I lived the jet-set life, and I’m totally open to finding a rich husband who would allow me and encourage me to do so, then I totally would, then I would do Rehab like every single Sunday. It’s hot, it’s sunny, it’s a massive pool, and you get to dance in the pool with your drink in hand. I kissed a gay boy who’s incredibly hot and I won’t put his name on here but you might be able to guess if you use your best ESP powers, and I also danced in my swimsuit up on a pole. This was all caught on video which at the time I was very entertained by so I hammed it up. Now in retrospect I guess that will kill my political career. Which is ok, b/c you know, I have no political career, nor do I want one. Roberto was highly entertaining.

If I ever have to see him wearing that damn t-shirt again I might kill myself. Confirmations of fake breasts within the Ander community were made. Check. And Mark: I’m so glad to see that the water does not prevent you from twirling your dancing partners with wild abandon. You are most lucky that I didn’t puke club sandwich up all over you. Speaking of club sandwiches, so at one point I braked for lunch and upon returning was ridiculously cold. I guess I was having some sort of withdrawl from LIT’s. So I’m like “Aly! Let’s find a hot tub!” we find one and she’s all, “I really don’t think you want to go in that.” And I’m all, “yes, I totally do.” And she tells me, “No, Lindy, I really don’t think you do. There are definitely people having sex in that hot tub, right now, in front of us.” And you know what? She was right. So that about sums up Rehab.

Highlight #6 (Bouchon): Speaks for itself. Oysters and steak frites. Life does not get better.

Highlight #7 (Alexandra): I never know you could dance like that. Well done.

Highlight #8 (Mikey): Hey, there, friend. Are you sure you’re into dudes? B/c that attempted hand up skirts? And that dancing? Potentially says otherwise.

Highlight #9 (mystery escort): Some dude approached me on the dance floor. He knew my name. Asked me to come with me. Said he had to “take me to someone. Someone I’d left behind.” Took me up to the VIP area. The mystery guest was Kim, who I from this point onward will refer to as Captain Subtle, given that she is not subtle whatsoever, and my escort was her friend Dick, even though she prefers to call him David. Captain Subtle: I appreciate you interrupting my innocent makeout session not once (when you crammed a drink into my hand), but twice (when you screamed at me from 20 feet down the hall). I do heart you, you little twit.

Highlight #10 (insert stuff here): Aly, I love you. I am forever indebted to you for putting up with my shenanigans. Stan: go f’ yourself for not wanting to endure a lunch and hearing about “Lindy’s weekend in Vegas.”

Highlight #11 (glorious food): Pizza, poolside, at “Relax,” the Monday-sister of Rehab. Does a body good. Actually does parts of the body good. Some bad. Who cares. Oh. For the record. Hard Rock: when you say “relax,” I’m thinking quiet music played at a reasonable volume. Apparently you don’t. I guess you think that house played at a ridiculously gross volume is relaxing. I think more people agree with me than you, just you know, an FYO.

Highlight #12. No. Lowlight #12 (terrible food): J – I think the milkshake idea was yours. I blame you for my awful, dreadful stomach ache and take no personal account for my own actions.

Wow, well, I guess I’m all out of highlights. I’d really like one more b/c I prefer odd numbers to even numbers and thus hate ending on 12, but you can’t force it. Plus, I guess that 13 is an unlucky number so maybe I’m lucky after all. I am considering combining or losing a highlight to have 11, but that really isn’t happening. So then, I have spent the afternoon with my parents at the Design Center out on Melrose looking at fabrics and rugs and really that took a lot out of me. Even the Pinkberry I had can’t fix the damage done there. So I think I need an hour of rest before I return to their hotel to pick them out. So, don’t be cunty (except for you Jason b/c we all know it’s unavoidable for you), wish me a happy graduation, and the end.