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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

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