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Girls Gone Wild Blog

My Mustache Made Me Do It


The Mustache Made me Do it

 

I looked like a 1970’s porn star. And that was the point. For some reason, I didn’t shave the area over my lip. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. For one weekend, I wanted to be in disguise. On vacation. From myself. Mistakes. Or so I thought. I woke up at five after one, but my mustache had been up for hours. Probably celebrating some sort of victory. Selfish bastard. That’s so him. This chick next to me is either dead or extraordinarily sleepy. I think she’s a hooker. I never should’ve gotten on that plane.The 7:15 Southwest flight out of Burbank touched down at McCarran at 8:10. My stewardess was hot. Older, but still OK. I told her I’d be at the MGM, even though I was pretty sure I’d be at the Palms. When did I become a lying bastard? Must be the mustache.The Crown Royal from the airport bar and the plane has already taken hold when I get in a limo with a foreign couple headed downtown. They don’t speak much English. I slip them a twenty and tell them to meet me at the Rhino later. I’m sure the guy is only interested because I showed him naked pictures of my roommate’s ex-girlfriend on my phone. I love Vegas……………READ MORE

 

 

I want to put my stuff away and take a nap, but my mustache wants to play craps. I stand at the end of the table for an hour-and-a half laying place bets and hitting a bunch of nines while a short black dude helps me drain a bottle of Maker’s Mark. The waitress thinks I’m from the South because I call her Honey a lot and occasionally speak with an accent, but it’s really lack of sleep.The short black dude’s wife comes and gets him. She’s been at the spa getting a deep-tissue massage. She’s a heavy Filipino woman but seems to have good intentions. They leave me and I go meet Tony the Greek, my Mexican drug dealer. Tony specializes in X but brings me blow because I fixed his laptop two years ago. I find him outside of valet. I was on my phone talking to Vegas Wife and he was making out with one of those girls who hands out flyers on the Strip. I think they know each other.I roll back into the casino and grab two Coors Lights from the gift shop and go up to my room. I notice a girl sitting in the hallway but I leave her alone because she’s a redhead and she’s crying. I check out the hotel porn, because I have an hour to kill before dinner, but then the redhead knocks on the door. She says she’s locked out and she’s fighting with her boyfriend.

 

 

I tell her that I’ve never done blow in Vegas off the hipbone of a redhead from Minnesota, even though that’s only partly true. Again, the lies. I throw her down on the bed and get her naked. She watches the porn as I lick her knee. She tells me she just started her period and that it might not be a good idea to keep going. I tell her she’s crazy and we do it anyway. Her cell phone rings and she leaves. I call for a room change. I go downstairs to get new keys and contest the porn charge on my old room. Dinner’s in an hour, but I’m no longer hungry. I go play blackjack. I sit next to an older man who splits Kings. I tell him that he’s a damn fool as I stay on a fourteen against a face card. He’s sitting with a young girl who claims she’s a porn star. I try to explain to her that having a random dude tape you giving him a blowjob and then putting it on the Internet doesn’t make you a porn star. Plus, I’ve seen it and “star” is a stretch and a half. She bites a lot. He gives me a cigar after he gets two twenties and wins the hand.

 

 

I hate cigars so I give it to a little kid standing near the elevator and I get in a cab for the Mirage. The driver is from Nigeria. I tell him I’m currently involved with correspondence over e-mail to get some money over that way to get this prince out of the country. He seems pleased. He tells me his friend has the best hookers — blonde girls are $600, blackgirls are $450. Obama better put a stop to this. I let him keep the change and I get out of the cab and go into The Mirage. They need to fix this place up. I go stand near Jet and talk to a girl who sells cigarettes. I don’t smoke, so I give her some blow and then we make out. She lets me feel her up a little, but only over the push-up bra, so it’s like Junior High. I leave her and go play three-card poker. My dealer is Chuck from Minnesota. I ask him if he knows a bossy little redhead who bleeds a lot. Two older women leave the table. Whatever. This mustache is getting in my mouth a little.

 

 

I hit the bar and meet a girl named Wendy. She looks like a hooker, but I just pretend I’m doing great with her. She rubs my ass and then takes my sunglasses and puts them on. All marginally attractive women seem hotter in sunglasses. I tell her I have to go meet someone, even though I have no idea what’s going on. I order a Corona. I go to the bathroom to do more blow. In the stall next to me, a kid who sounds about 15 is throwing up. I do blow anyway. The throw up smells like Easter. I throw up. Christ, it’s not even 1 a.m. I don’t want to be at The Mirage anymore. I forget why I came in the first place. I call Vegas Wife and see if she’ll meet me at Caesar’s. I get in a cab and fall asleep. This is shitty blow. I wake up on the f loor of a cab and I’m not at Caesar’s. I’m in some alley and the driver isn’t even there. I sit up, do more blow. I need a drink. This cab smells like chalk. I get out of the cab and walk down an alley and enter a shitty strip club. I pay ten dollars and walk in even though I have puke on my shirt. I sit in the corner and order a 7&7. I start talking to the waitress who tells me where I can find some good weed. Then she sells me a pill for five bucks. I have no idea what it does, but I’m gonna take it soon.

 

 

I take the pill, drink my drink. I get two girls to dance on me while a third one slaps me around and tells me I underachieved in college. I swear to God I was normal before I grew this thing on my lip. I pay them fifty and leave the strip club and get into a stretch Hummer with a bunch of fat girls from a bachelorette party. For a hundred dollars, I let them pull my jeans down and spank me and take pictures. Shit, I would’ve paid twice that. I miss Wendy. I text her. Then I text Vegas Wife. Then I text the foreign couple. Then I throw my phone out the window. The girls tell me they’re gonna drop me at the Palms, but take me to the Rio instead. Great. Fat and no sense of direction. My jaw hurts. I gotta get rid of this mustache before it gets too big and destroys us all. I start walking. I meet a man named Tino. He tells me about his night and I tell him about mine and I’m only 60 percent sure he was completely imaginary. He gave me a razor. I gave him a hug. It was this thing we had. What the fuck was in that pill? I woke up in a bed with white sheets, next to a chick with blonde hair.

 

I no longer know who I am and the mustache will haunt my dreams and my children’s dreams and my children’s children. And that hooker, wherever she is, well, I’m pretty sure she still has my sunglasses.

 

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