Thunder and lightning.

I think we left off the Vegas storytelling somewhere around Saturday, right? That morning we did what any self-respecting 30-somethings would do on a weekend getaway: SPA DAY.

We're smart and savvy shoppers, so instead of paying bajillions of dollars for a 10 second massage on the strip, we ordered ourselves a Groupon for a spa day at the Hilton at Lake Las Vegas. I KNOW. So brills. A Zip Car ride later and we were in paradise. Facial. Massage. Sauna. Steam room. Healing waters. Lunch with champagne! Ahhhh.

After being satisfyingly relaxed (Caitlin might have proposed marriage to her masseuse), we got ourselves back to the Strip and prepped for another night of debauchery.

Dinner was at Crush at the MGM Grand and is probably on my top 10 list for life meals. If you find yourself there, get the sea bass, and that's not an Austin Powers joke. And for your general amusement, a dinner selfie:

Ooohh and if you're wondering what those dresses look like from the boobs down, keep reading.

Our next and final stop in Vegas was the Thunder from Down Under "show" at the Excalibur. Oh my. I've never seen so many......bachelorette parties in all my life! Legit it was a wild and fun (and surprisingly tasteful!) night. Caitlin and I achieved our singular goal, which was getting one of the two Scottish grandmas that were sitting next to us on stage for a little song and lapdance. Her 7 grandchildren would be so proud.

It is my life's wish that everyone has a bestie like mine. Someone to laugh with, cry with, and scream "Don't bring your children to Vegas!" with at strangers pushing strollers while walking down the Strip at midnight. Another epic trip for the books.

Vegas, cont.

Where did we leave off, my lovlies? Oh yesyesyes... Vegas, days 1 and 2.

Upon arrival to the airport, we slo-mo ran slash embraced one another, gathered our luggage and hopped into the hot mess of a taxi line headed to the strip. Also? Cait saw Dave Nevarro. NBD.

Dinner that eve was at Japonais at the Mirage. Sushi with a side of sass. Highly recommend.

The next morning, we jetted over to Rent the Runway at the Cosmopolitan. SUCH a brills business model: literally renting out designer fashions for any event. You can do it from home (shipped direct) or via appointment their boutique shops in NYC or Vegas. They rent pretty much everything but the shoes and the skivvies. Even wedding things! Anyway, I ended up with this little number from Trina Turk and this racy lace situation from Nicole Miller. Cait was delicious in Badgley Mischka and also Badgley Mischka. Hey, know what you know. 

Post-appointment, we dined at Holsteins. Their menu includes boozy milkshakes, so duh. And somewhere in the course of the morning hours Cait hit it big and won $10 at a Monopoly machine. Our friendship has a long and storied past with Monopoly, so it was sort of a sign that the day was going to be amazing. And oh, it was. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging poolside, with my fair ginger bestie swimming in SPF one million, while I baked to my heart’s content with what I’m quite sure was actually just bottled Crisco. Also? We think someone had a seizure at the pool. Dear whoever you are: we hope you’re ok.

Dinner that evening was at Yolos, the Mexican joint in PH, because tableside guac.

Then, we BRITNEY-ed. You’ve been briefed on this experience already. But let’s just once again reminisce about how we were randomly selected from 4,600 people to sit in the VIP table section with the likes of Jessica Alba. MAGICAL.

Legit the only bad thing to happen to us the entire day was when I broke the straps on my super fave sparkly shoes, but in the long run, it was just one less thing I had to pack to go home. Win|win.

Tomorrow we discuss Saturday’s sitch. I tweeted this one out that night, so you’re in for a real treat.

That one time I sat front row at Britney Spears.

I've just returned from a whirlwind weekend in Las Vegas and I have SO much to catch you all up on. But first, in what might be the greatest story I've told in my life, I give you the 29 minutes leading up to this photo being taken:

It was 8:39 PM in Las Vegas. My bff and I had just gotten all dolled up for the night, due in special part to a genius little business called Rent The Runway. More on that later.

But this was not just any night. It was the REASON we traveled a collective 4,418 miles to be in Vegas. It was Britney, bitch. 

We purchased our tickets to Britney’s “Piece of Me” show at the Planet Hollywood Resort & Casino much like any other normal person without an Amex Black card would—via Ticketmaster and selecting the “best-but-also-the-cheapest available” option.

Our $74 seats, while not the best in the house, were just enough to satisfy our teenage dreams of seeing Justin Timberlake’s ex girlfriend shake her booty and lip sync her way through the entire soundtrack of our high school tenure.

We entered the concert hall and purchased the obligatory $40 souvenir tees and tanks and also got in line for the $15 tequila gingers that our high school selves could have only dreamed about. Once we found the entrance to section 208, a nice little granny usher flashlighted us over to our corner of the auditorium, where we quickly took our seats and made fast friends with the other gays and gals around us.

As we sat sipping and chatting, waiting for Brit Brit to take the stage, an unassuming woman in a suit approached us.

“How many in your party?” she asked.

I held up 2 fingers, confused.

“And how many in yours?” she asked the group in front of us.

“Four.”

“Awesome. Come with me. I have better seats for you.”

We assumed this was all a joke, and that Ashton Kutcher was about to pop out from behind her walkie talkie—but chose to follow her anyway. I mean, if it all went south we still had our original seats to come back to, right? Giggling to each other and wondering what was happening, we just kept following her and getting closer and closer and closer to the stage.

We had walked nearly the entire length of the venue, and were literally reaching the steps to the stage access when the woman in the suit—Katie, we learned—waived her arm in the general direction of the usher who was taking tickets to the VIP section. The TABLE section. The section that Regular People Like Us do not sit in.

To further illustrate my point, here is a map demonstrating our path to excellence:

“Give me your left arm,” our new usher said and smiled as she slapped an iridescent pink VIP band around our wrists and handing us our NEW AND FREE $500 tickets. She has the BEST and funnest job.

I don’t think any of us actually believed what was happening, and though my memory of these exact moments is very foggy, I do remember jumping up and down and squealing at the pitch of a dog whistle “IS THIS REAL LIFE?” while Katie just laughed and nodded. I think I said, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” 3,647 times consecutively while trying to remember to breathe.

“We have to fill these tables every night, and this one was empty. It’s your lucky night,” Katie told us.

Lucky doesn't even BEGIN to describe what happened. It is legitimately incomprehensible how, out of an audience of 4,600 total seats, she would approach us—two undiscerning 30-somethings trying to live out a high school fantasy in the third-to-last-row of a Britney concert. Why didn't she go to any of the literally hundreds of raucous bachelorette parties or, better yet, the probably 50 groups of girls dressed in astonishingly historically accurate Britney costumes from years gone by? At first glance, they seem like a much more obvious and enthusiastic choice. WHY US?

I honestly have no idea. But I do know that it was one of the greatest and craziest happenstances of my life to date and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to enjoy a concert from the “cheap seats” ever again. I've seen and tasted how the other half lives and I’m REALLY into it. Tables. Bottle service. Bodyguards. Oh, and Jessica Alba seated two tables over. YES. It was amazeballs.

And now, please appreciate this photo overload from The Greatest Night Of My Life.

Fab dresses via RTR. More on that later.

The stage is the green lighted area immediately behind me.  

Note the price, upper right. WHAT.

You better work, bitch.

No zoom on this. Bootylicious!

She's flying!

This costume was ridic in real life.

Circus.

That post-Brit glow.

I will probably tell this story with unapologetic enthusiasm for the rest of my life. It was just that great. And tomorrow I'll tell the tales from the rest of the trip, which included a spa day,the best sea bass of my life and some male strippers. What I'm saying is that I know how to celebrate Mother's Day.