Dear Diary,

Part Two of The Vegas Chronicles:

Friday was filled with me shouting, "OOOOOH Nickel slots!!!" and I'm quite sure, the rattling sound of eyes rolling. Whilst in the Orleans, all of us acquired beads from a kind woman at the guest services desk. The only time I took those suckers off was to shower and sleep.

After naps were taken (not by me even though by this point I had not slept in nearly 36 hours and would not sleep for another 10), we decided we would tour the Strip.

We took a cab to New York New York. Once inside the elevator, we realized that you needed a room key to operate it. Smart and wily women that we are, we just stood still and waited for another group to use their card, and Audra calmly pushed our floor number. Up we went to see Danielle and Tony's room. We knocked in trepidation...the door opened up and there they both were, fully clothed!

For some reason, this moment was chosen as the gift exchange. Danielle had soft purple socks for everyone. I had a shirt for Tony and soap for Danielle.

We went down the elevator, singing. Danielle formulated a plan to violate Neil Sedaka's leg the following night. We were a walking mental hospital and we were enjoying every minute of it.

One of the highlights of the Strip was the fancy CVS and Walgreen's. Both had flashing neon signs outside of them. Inside, just a little cleaner and larger than the ordinary drug stores we have in Detroit.

Before I begin mocking the Bellagio fountain again, let me just say for the record; that fucker gave me chills. In a Randy Jackson kinda way. By the time we reached the Bellagio, our giddy laughter had stolen some of my brain cells. Combined with the lack of sleep, there could be only one result: stupid hysterical jokes.

It all started with some dumb voice I did. Kind of like an overly American accent, with a Mrs. Pearl edge to it. Soon it became an all out mockery of the Italian music playing over the fountain. Julie and Danielle joined in, all of us saying, "eye talian". Everyone looked at us incredulously. I would later find out why. That frigging fountain had given everyone the chills. To that, Julie responded, "Fucking fountain gave me chills! It's just fucking water!" Exactly, Julie, exactly.

Soon we were at the doorstep of Melissa's wet dream: the Mirage. Home of Sigfried and Roy. Outside of this palace was a hideously narcissistic statue...see below.

We played around here for awhile, giving the obligatory hand jobs to the tiger's teeth, before we went inside. There inside was a giant glass enclosure containing one of the white tigers. It was terribly sad to watch her pace around in there, so we were quickly engaged by the Mecca of tacky souvenir seekers: the Mirage Gift Shop.

Inside, one could find coffee table books filled with pictures of tender Roy and tender Sigfried. Mullets abounded. There were tiger bodies with baby faces, personalized tiger shot glasses, and the most spectacularly disturbing souvenir ever...the cow Roy...

I'm not quite sure what compelled this artist to make cow statues of famous people to begin with, but making one of Roy was stepping over the edge.

While at this gift shop, a key moment happened. I was purchasing my tacky souvenirs for Leah when I heard a commotion near the stuffed animals. Danielle was using visual aids to demonstrate what Mr. Sedaka should expect the following evening. And Karen was smart enough to capture the tiger humping candy on digital film...I expect my copy to arrive in the next few weeks.

Truthfully, I can't remember where we finally went to have dinner. I remember it was an American Pizza Caf� inside of a casino. I remember that the ATMs had Sigfried and Roy screensavers. I was the walking dead at this point, and yet, my feet kept moving. I ordered a beer and a Thai chicken pizza, which was fabulous. We all sat around and laughed at the absurdity of Clay's last outfit. Julie wore my tiara for a time.

The cab ride home was interesting. We thought we had scored a nice friendly cabby. He was telling slightly suggestive jokes...but hell we're the Lecherous Broads, that's our style. Then he asked where we were from. When I told him Detroit, he said it wasn't his favorite city. I told him it wasn't mine either. And then he said, "Because there's a lot of blacks there." I made a strangled, surprised noise and the rest of the cab ride was silent. He was still preferable over Feck, but not by much.

Karen, Julie and I got back to our rooms and chatted awhile. Apparently, I was keeping up in the conversation pretty well until two minutes after I had said something, I was unresponsive. Out cold.

To be continued...

-Kelly