If you deny this then it's your fault.
Vegas, Vegas, Vegas.
Placebo was amazing. The crowd wasn't pushing and shoving, and I was right in the front. During the show I kind of got this overwhelming feeling of being entirely happy. Afterwards we all walked around for a while and then went back to my hotel room and drank...smoked some opium, you know. I made new friends. I socialized. I haven't really had alcohol in about a year, but I picked the perfect time to try it again. I stayed up until 7 or 8 in the morning, fell asleep in the bathtub, got up at 10 and went out and got a tattoo.
I met some insane people while I was there. This old black homeless guy with no teeth who called me princess and said I was a keeper. A lady in her 40's who sat an talked to me for nearly two hours about how all men are bastards, she's a lawyer, and if I ever need to run away from home and am looking for somewhere to stay, I'm welcome at her place (she's been raped 3 times in Vegas, and she's seen a lot of Mexican's shot to death). Irish Joe at the tattoo place. The Valet parker who took us through the bowels of Caeser's Palace. Everyone was friendly. It was a nice change.
While coming through Arizona on the way home we got stuck in traffic at the mouth of a canyon. Cars were completely stopped for hours. The people I was riding with talked about getting out of the car for a cigarette, and they eventually did. I got out and stood on top of the car, and the people in surrounding vehicles started coming out, one by one, until there was a party in the middle of I-15. What had happened was there had been a roll over crash a few miles ahead, someone had died and they closed down the freeway to investigate it. It was something I'll probably never see again unless aliens decide to invade.
Unfortunately my company wasn't the best it could have been. I'm not exactly a fan of those teenagers who can't help but flip off the camera whenever they have their picture taken. The kind obsessed with drugs and anything that gets them 'fucked up', and by day 4 I was ready to kill every single one of them (well, except 2).
Vegas was good because it made me realize that I can handle things like that, being on my own, managing my money. I don't feel the need to justify everything I do and I have no problem admitting that I have a general distaste for everyone.
Coming home. Coming back to reality. It sucks, but I have control over it now and I know exactly where I'm going.
The wind is blowing me in the right direction.
You know the way I smell? haha. Now I can smell clove cigarettes too.
Placebo was amazing. The crowd wasn't pushing and shoving, and I was right in the front. During the show I kind of got this overwhelming feeling of being entirely happy. Afterwards we all walked around for a while and then went back to my hotel room and drank...smoked some opium, you know. I made new friends. I socialized. I haven't really had alcohol in about a year, but I picked the perfect time to try it again. I stayed up until 7 or 8 in the morning, fell asleep in the bathtub, got up at 10 and went out and got a tattoo.
I met some insane people while I was there. This old black homeless guy with no teeth who called me princess and said I was a keeper. A lady in her 40's who sat an talked to me for nearly two hours about how all men are bastards, she's a lawyer, and if I ever need to run away from home and am looking for somewhere to stay, I'm welcome at her place (she's been raped 3 times in Vegas, and she's seen a lot of Mexican's shot to death). Irish Joe at the tattoo place. The Valet parker who took us through the bowels of Caeser's Palace. Everyone was friendly. It was a nice change.
While coming through Arizona on the way home we got stuck in traffic at the mouth of a canyon. Cars were completely stopped for hours. The people I was riding with talked about getting out of the car for a cigarette, and they eventually did. I got out and stood on top of the car, and the people in surrounding vehicles started coming out, one by one, until there was a party in the middle of I-15. What had happened was there had been a roll over crash a few miles ahead, someone had died and they closed down the freeway to investigate it. It was something I'll probably never see again unless aliens decide to invade.
Unfortunately my company wasn't the best it could have been. I'm not exactly a fan of those teenagers who can't help but flip off the camera whenever they have their picture taken. The kind obsessed with drugs and anything that gets them 'fucked up', and by day 4 I was ready to kill every single one of them (well, except 2).
Vegas was good because it made me realize that I can handle things like that, being on my own, managing my money. I don't feel the need to justify everything I do and I have no problem admitting that I have a general distaste for everyone.
Coming home. Coming back to reality. It sucks, but I have control over it now and I know exactly where I'm going.
The wind is blowing me in the right direction.
You know the way I smell? haha. Now I can smell clove cigarettes too.