We split up into two cars to head over to Mandalay Bay, where the House of Blues is located. On the way in, we saw this , and of course pics had to be taken. In we scampered, only to be met with a line. They weren't letting folks in yet, so we stood and sat around in line like a bunch of bums. Gates wasn't doing so well, and she decided the remedy was chocolate. She stumbled into a caf� and ordered some chocolate cake and sat there brooding over it. There was also the staring into space. And the near passing out. This is unfortunately the only photo we captured of it.

Bina was nicer than us and kept trying to pry the doors to the caf� open to rescue her.

Soon Gates bailed and the rest of us headed inside House of Blues. We were fucked up the ass on cover, $15 to hear a DJ spin 80s tunes is not a good deal. Anyway, we headed in the club and soon most of our party bailed (screw you guys. TM Cartman. Just kidding!), leaving Melissa, Bina, Mitzy, Leah and me to party down. The mix was really good, and I was really enjoying myself. We were all laughing at the hopeless guys trying to dance. We had to be on constant lookout to keep them from careening into our happy little estrogen circle.

All was going well until the go go girls came out. Now remember that this is Vegas. These aren't going to be Laugh In go-go girls. They came out wearing bustiers and panties. And they began dancing really inappropriately. Now I'm not talking too sexual, I'm talking just not appropriate for the music. It really just changed the whole atmosphere in the place. Everyone was staring at these chicks and gauging their dancing by the go-go girls' performance. After lots of abuse to our feet, we decided to call it quits.

We clomped out to the front of the hotel, Mitzy went back to MGM and Leah, Melissa and I waited for a cab. I waited in bare feet, blisters having formed on the tops and bottoms of my feet.

Back at the HO, our delightful friends Wendy, Kat and Robin had arranged for us to get a room. They even moved our luggage into our humble weekend flophouse. We hugged exhaustedly in the parking lot and went up to our room. Gates was already there, and surprisingly sober. I was unable to go to bed without taking a shower first so I jumped in. I combed my hand through my hair and that was that. It was after I had changed out of my clothes that I realized that I had neglected to pack pajama bottoms. I warned Leah that I would be sleeping in the same bed as her with blue briefs and a dinosaur shirt. She was exhausted and didn't seem to care, so I crawled in and proceeded to swelter under the crummy fleece blanket.

The next morning, I looked like this: Well you'll get the picture when I get home tonight�

That's kinda what I felt like, too. Everyone else reported sleeping like rocks, logs and other inanimate objects. I spent the night worrying about stealing the blankets from Leah.

I got my shit together, as did everyone else and we drove to the Bellagio for the brunch. Melissa's friend Bootsy was in town, and he met us at the Bellagio. Poor man was probably not prepared for the insanity that is the Lecherous Broads. Wait. He's Melissa's friend, he was more prepared than Leah.

Can I just say that if you think $27 is too much for brunch, you've never eaten at the Bellagio before. We must have sounded like a bunch of middle aged biddies when we saw that food. I just kept exclaiming, "Oh my God! Look at this place!" I loaded up on scrambled eggs, bacon and blintzes. I also must have drank 10 glasses of orange juice.

On the second trip up there, I spotted a table of Broads�including NELLE!!! I tapped her on the shoulder and yelled "Nelle!!!" and she yelled back, "Dude!!" We embraced and screamed and jumped up and down. Did I mention that this was all in a fancy buffet? Yeah, that's how us Broads do it.

The food at the Bellagio is so good that it was sending Melissa into a crisis. At one point she said, "Guys, is it wrong if I don't stop eating this bacon?" We, of course assured her that she was completely right to keep eating the bacon.

Here is a lovely picture of everyone (and a terrible one of me) after stuffing their faces.

It was now time for the second most exciting thing to do in Vegas: the Liberace Museum. Kat, Melissa, Lila, Jan, Danielle, Bootsy, Leah, Audra, Mitzy and Wendy and I had all made the unholy pact to go to the museum, forsaking all others. Because of the sheer load of people, Leah had to sit on my lap on our travels. At first it didn't seem so bad. In fact, it was kind of fun to see the looks on people's faces as they saw Leah's arms clutching Danielle's headrest. We drove down the streets of Las Vegas, the desert wind blowing in our hair, Daniel and Clay alternating assaults on our ears. Glorious actually.

When we finally arrived, we were giddy with anticipation. We all lined up at the tiny reception desk and waited for the geriatric (but fantastically nice and enthusiastic) clerks to take our money and stamp our hands. Danielle made it in the museum proper first with Audra, and her reaction made us all want to punch the old couple out so that we get in there and see what all the "Oh my GOD! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Hahahahahahaahah!" was all about. Melissa and I exchanged glances that said, "She'd better shut her mouth so we don't get kicked out of here."

Happily we didn't get kicked out. When my time came, I entered tentatively and was amazed at the sheer glitter of everything. Our shrieks were probably heard for miles. The cars, the pianos and the paintings�

Soon, the trip through the car portion of the museum was over and we headed across the parking lot to the outfit museum and gift shop. The fun was really about to begin. The attendants here were infinitely more uptight about the "image" that the Liberace Museum was apparently supposed to be upholding, but we weren't going to let that stand in our way. We spotted a few things in the gift shop that we were going to purchase on the way out and then entered the feathery, sequined world of Liberace's costumes.

On first viewing of the world's largest rhinestone, Leah pointed and screamed, "What the HELL is that?" "That" was a piece of grayish leaded glass the size of a soccer ball. The costumes were unbelievable. My favorite has to be the hot pants outfit. Think patriotic majorette man. Think sequins, think short shorts and majorette boots. Then there was the 200 pound pink feather nightmare that he wore while he hatched himself out of a giant Faberge egg.

It was sometime during this shrieky viewing that one of the attendants felt the need to shush us. Let me reiterate that we were the only poor souls in that place and the stuff is ludicrous. There's no way you can't talk loudly about it. We all stifled snickers and moved on to his jewelry. The man must have had the strongest fingers in the world given the fucking rings he wore. It was here that we were passive-aggressively shushed again. The shusher came up behind Leah and asked her for "help". It was after all "a museum". At this point we hadn't even been talking loud. I countered with some snarky comments after the woman left, true to my high school psyche.

The gift shop held a piece of wonder that we hadn't been ready for. We all noticed at the same time, the row of spangly vests, and being the sick fucks that we are, we immediately thought of Hometown Connection Clay. Wouldn't it be fantastic to get one of those vests onstage and to Clay? Maybe attach a note with a request for Still the One? The plan was hatched. I became the dummy and tried on the silver one. We all forked over $6 for the cause and stuffed that sucker in a bag.

To be continued�.