Las Vegas Expense Report

It’s that time again: convention work modeling. Each time I sign up for a job like this, I can’t help but be forced to compare it to It’s a Small World. Except the people aren’t Disneyfied multi-ethnic plastic midgets, they’re dumb skinny bitches. Cuckoo clock modeling, every hour on the hour.

Las Vegas Expense Report

My boyfriend drives me to the airport. The trip obviously costs him something (i.e. time and gas money) but this is my expense report. Matter struck irrelevant.

I split the cab with three other girls. I’m usually the one to collect funds because I’m “good with numbers.” Seventeen plus three for tip to make it easy equals twenty divided by four…Gee whiz…

Aaron and I make the trek past and through the Barry Manilow store, resisting the urge to purchase Manilow Merlot and StrawBarry lip balm. We arrive at the Las Vegas Hilton General Store. I grab a 1.2 liter bottle of Smart Water. I think about getting snacks but resist. The woman rings it up. “Six dollars.” Uh, huh. No, I don’t think so. I offer to take it back to the refrigerated isle. She tells me she’ll do it. I sense that this is less an altruistic, occupational duty and more that she believes I am going to steal it out of spite. On our way back up to the hotel room with Floor 16 views of this neon wasteland, I buy a bottle of Desani from the vending machine. Ounce per ounce, this was a rather dim decision. And it’s tap water. Fuck off, Coca Cola.

Whenever I travel I realize that the two latte a day habit I have developed in the privacy of my own home translates to a very pricey business expense while traveling for work.

Twelve garbanzo beans. Four slices of processed chicken. Gorgonzola cheese that I asked for on the side after substituting avocado was deemed impossible. Iceberg lettuce with carrot strings. Definitely not homemade Italian dressing.

I break down and buy a bigger bottle of water from the Coffee Bean. The cashier tells me it’s one of the better deals in town. Ultimately, I would have been better served buying that first Smart Water. The prospect will haunt me the rest of my stay in Las Vegas.

When I find out the hotel gym costs $20 a day, my frugality kicks and screams and buries my credit card in a random pair of shorts. Four hours into some seriously recycled convention air and toxic fluorescent lighting, we decide a pricey run on the treadmill and a moment in the steam room might be just the ticket. And if you buy two days instead of one you save $2 a day! Wow. I do fill up my $4.50 water bottle four times total, an $18 value. I steal five razors with moisture strips, two red apples and three bananas. Hilton has practically paid me to exercise and sweat. Boo ya.

Margarita Grill. Aaron and I will split the same dish three nights in a row: two chicken soft tacos with a side of rice and beans (holding the cheese on nights two and three) plus the Jumbo Guacamole split four ways. By the third night we’re feeling adventurous and get two chicken tostadas and one chicken taco that we forget to specify soft or crispy. We end up with crispy.

My biggest expense but not necessarily my wisest. The Thunder from Down Under, Australia’s Hottest Export. I had never been to a male revue before. The most I had ever heard about it was back in middle school. It was rumored that Alex Mendoza’s* father was a stripper at Chip ‘N Dales. I will dive into greater depth on this subject later.

Our flight gets delayed an hour and fifteen minutes due to some reason never relayed to we passengers. I buy the Cranberry Power Mix from the Las Vegas Fruit and Nut Stand. I do not tell the cashier that there is a fly in the Dried Mango bin.

My contribution for gas and parking. I cram this into the cigarette tray of Danika’s Audi despite her refusal. Take me home. Please.

*Names have been changed to protect the most likely uninnocent


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