Skip to content
October 30, 2012 / Andee Frizzell

What happens in Vegas….

Not so long ago I ventured to the adult version of Disneyland, Las Vegas, with a couple of girlfriends. This was to be a weekend of shedding responsibilities, ruining reputations and complete debauchery. The weekend excelled in all categories.

Within the female, out of town posse, each member displays certain attributes.

There are the girls that cling together like seaweed to coral on the barrier reef, there are the girls that will hang with the pod, all the while their head swivels on their neck like a Globetrotter’s basketball, scanning the room for  a potential prospect which once found, they vanish, and then there are the girls that basically split the cab fare to the club with you.

Michelle, who is the central character in this story, is of the latter group. So it was of no surprise to anyone that she hadn’t returned to the hotel with us on the first night or that her bed was empty the next morning.

As we all tried desperately to piece together the details of the night before, swap stories of chance encounters and delete incriminating or just plain bad photos of our selves off the digital camera, Michelle burst into the hotel room in a complete frenzy. Being that we all were as hung over as sailors on shore leave, none of us were prepared for the state that Michelle was in. She flung herself into the communal space literally spitting fire.

What had her so wound up was the fact that she had scanned the entire club looking for Mr. Tonite and after short consideration and a complete lack of standards, she had made her selection and unfortunately had bet on the wrong… horse.

Apparently, Mr. Tonite had had as many drinks as we all had had and his equipment was not responding to the call of duty. What had tipped the scales from just another limp-lustre liquor love fest to grievously outrageous insult was that Mr. Tonite had tried to sooth the sexually dissatisfied Michelle with the offer to cuddle.

Cuddle! She screamed at us, “I didn’t fly half way around the world to Vegas to CUDDLE! I came here to FUCK!”

It was at this moment I noticed two things that were awry. One was that Vancouver couldn’t really be considered half way around the world as it was only two and half hours away by plane and secondly, something was very wrong with Michelle’s shirt. The whole left side was caved in like a sink hole. As Michelle raged, I stared at her top with increasing curiosity till I couldn’t contain it any longer.

“What the hell is wrong with your top?”

Just then Michelle looked down and noticed that she was missing an appendage. Her left boob.

Apparently there had been a casualty in the war of the sexless. Michelle had lost her chicken cutlet, (a prosthetic  plastic bust that adheres to your natural boob with magic sticky tape and gives the illusion of a larger fuller chest when worn inside your bra, but what it really looks like is an uncooked chicken breast).

Michelle reached into her bra yanking out the remaining chicken cutlet and tossed it into the hotel trash bin.

“I can only hope it fell out somewhere in his bed and that fucker wakes up with it stuck to his face!”

Hell have no fury like a one-boobed woman…. scorned.

Advertisements

One Comment

Leave a Comment
  1. Quirky Chrissy / Nov 2 2012 7:03 pm

    Oh. My. God. Hilarious.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: