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Oh. My. Gosh. I don't even know if I loved it or hated it. I am so thoroughly drained. We just got ''home'' (Savannah's other grandma's house) from a night on the strip.

It was exhilirating and dazzling and superficial and commercial. I feel the way I often did after a school dance, that lingering, tingling excitement in my body overshadowed by exhaustion but I also feel used.

We went everywhere: The Venetian, The Bellagio, Caesar's Palace, Treasure Island, golly, I can't possibly keep track...

Savannah looked so perfect for the occasion! We went thrift shopping beforehand and she found a tiny, blue, just painted-on dress along with some crazy sunglasses. That paired with her new haircut, she was an exact Lady Gaga replica.

Every guy who walked by had to make some comment at us. I will admit, my skirt was too short, but come on now, it is Vegas. update: no way! I've got the right to wear whatever I want and be left alone!

The whole evening was a blur of sparking lights. Savannah and I were just about exhausted and trying to muster up the strength to drag ourselves to the club we had been personally invited to (though not without being chastised for being heel-less) when Logan's sister Kenzie called! She happens to be the one to whom I owe the credit for all my favorite music; she found it, and it trickled down to me through Logan.

Like any Wetherell, she was charismatic and beautiful. She called a friend to find out where the best spot to dance was and it lead us to the very club we were invited to, earlier.

On the way to this swingin' hot spot, Kenzie pulled us into a cheaper bar and ordered herself and Lady Gaga a ''red-headed slut.'' I sipped my seltzer water and fought shooting it out my nose when Sav had to spit out a mouthful of her ''slut'' on a busy footbridge.

We all danced and drank (I drank water) and by the time Kenzie was ready to take us home, we could barely stand.

As we drove home, The Pixie's "Where is My Mind" (the ''you met me at a very strange time in my life'' song) played on the radio. A perfectly appropriate end to an absolutely strange (and wonderful) day. And all in the spirit of Fight Club.


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