It's Vegas, baby!

My grandmother's 80th birthday party is this weekend, in Las Vegas of all places. So my entire family on my dad's side is heading down to Sin City on Friday. It will be the first time in her life, that all her children and grandchildren will be together in one place. Crazy. She is pretty excited and so was I. I have not been to Vegas since I turned 21, over nine years ago. And I understand a lot has changed. In addition, my brother, whom I have not seen in almost a year and a half, is flying in from Texas. And did I mention, it's Vegas?!?

Then today at lunch, someone said something that made me feel all self-conscious. It was Kara. Apparently, according to "all the magazines" it is Hard Rock's 100th anniversary. And to celebrate they are shutting down the Hard Rock in Las Vegas and having a huge star-studded party. "It's this weekend and everyone is going to be there!" Don't ask me why this made me feel so stupid all of a sudden! In fact, as I am writing this I realize how lame the whole thing is. But honestly, I was almost sorry that I was even going to Vegas this weekend. I couldn't help thinking, "Oh my god! I am going to be the frumpiest girl in town!"

Admittedly, I am having a rough Monday. It started raining again and the dreary weather always gets me a little down. I spent the weekend wearing the same denim capris and hooded sweatshirt for two days. Then I was running late this morning, so the outfit I wore to work was not particularly flattering. I wore my orthopedic shoes today. I could not find my coat on the way out, so I opted for the ski parka. And for lunch I had tator tots. Oh, that's right, did I forget about Vegas?!? I wanted to purge the tots. Oh my god! I have to get into my skinny jeans and hoochie tops all weekend. I have to do my hair and makeup. I am usually good for one night, but I am not feeling very confident about three. And my hair--I am in ugly grow out stage right now. What if they don't let me into the bars? What if my husband spends the whole weekend checking out all the young hotties that are sure to be everywhere? I don't know if my fragile ego can take it today!

My brother calls. "I am freaking out!" I tell him. "I feel fat and frumpy! I don't want to go!" He assures me I am being ridiculous. I won't be the oldest one in the bar. There will be plenty older than me. Besides, he was not planning on taking me to any of the "A-list" bars, like the ones where the Super Models hang out. It is impossible to get in, he explains. The bouncers hand pick the girls from the ridiculously long lines. Oh, well that's reassuring.

Unlike other Western cities, Vegas has a certain raw sensuality about it. It is the epitome of sex, excess, and debauchery. It is home to "The Bunny Ranch" and high rollers. Built in the middle of a desert with no water around for miles, it is the ultimate mirage. It is a place where people can go to indulge in their fantasies. Rich, poor, beautiful, or indifferent, makes no matter. There is something for everyone, right? Even me. So I am taking a more optimistic view and am hoping to find myself pleasantly surprised. And if that fails, I'll be at the bar!