STAYS AT VEGAS NIGHT!
Except I'm a blogger, which means I'm prone to oversharing, so I didn't think it was appropriate to blather on about what I was wearing without providing a full recap of the evening.
I had good luck shopping on Wednesday evening - I ended up finding a perfect Little Black Dress (if anything I ever wear can be described as "little") at Lord & Taylor. Of course, ladies, you know what that meant: I also needed what we euphemistically refer to as "Shapewear" so that the dress would "hang right" without any unsightly bulges. I am of the belief that "shapewear" was invented by men, the same as high-heeled shoes must have been. Makes you looks great, but sofa king uncomfortable. Yes, I know that a woman invented Spanx, and now she is crazy-rich (you're welcome, Sara!), because we willingly pay obscene amounts of money to wear something no one will ever see have a smooth silhouette, but all she really did was improve upon a product that already existed. Don't you remember your mom wearing girdles when you were a kid? And the contraption I wore under my wedding gown was positively Medieval!
And after I shelled out for a "shaper", then I decided I needed a new bra, too, and then I found out what Victoria's "Secret" really is: She charges half a hundo for a good bra! GAH. I usually buy my bras while running through Target to buy underwear for the boys, laundry detergent and a gallon of milk. I had no idea anyone paid more than $11.99 for a bra! Until I did.
I finished my shopping spree at Claire's, where the helpful clerk kindly said that no, I was not too old to be shopping there, even as she rang up purchases by giggling gangs of teenage girls. Blingy fake-gold jewelry, procured.
I scrubbed and shaved and polished and primped and curled and sprayed. I won a bravely-fought battle while trying to pour myself into put on the shapewear. I zipped up my little black dress. All of that took 90 minutes. Whereas, Curt rolled in from work, unloaded the dishwasher, picked up the Peezer from aftercare, then pulled clothes from his closet, threw 'em on, and within 7 minutes he looked like a million bucks, just like I predicted he would in Tuesday's post.
The Las Vegas night was held at the at the National Museum of Women in the Arts and it was an elegant venue:
Since we weren't gambling with "real" money, I decided I would take advantage of the opportunity to learn some casino games. So I approached the guys manning the craps table (what are they called? Not dealers... Crapmasters, maybe? Men of Dice??) and said, "Are you patient? Because I'd like to learn the basics of this game so that I don't get myself thrown out of a real casino one day." And they taught me how it works! The 100-level version, anyway. And I might remember some of it. it was definitely fun! Till that one man kept crapping out (apparently, that's where the expression comes from!) and I lost an obscene amount of Monopoly Money.
Then I played some mindless roulette game and won back some of my losses... then we played Blackjack, which was also educational because the dealer gave us a little bit of coaching. Which they'll never do in Vegas. All they do in Vegas is give you the stink-eye if you take a hit on 13. I think. They will say things like, if you hadn't taken that card, then you would have had that next card and you would have won. And I'm all yeah, but you can't know that! It's called gambling for a reason. Am I right?
I think the husband and I clean up pretty nice:
Anyway - we had a great time! Even if we didn't win any of the raffle prizes or silent auction items. It was a fun night out. We didn't embarass ourselves. Much. But I can't talk about that, because what happens in Vegas...