Well, it is official. I can no longer be a part of the 20-Somethings crowd. Saturday marked my entry into the next decade, and here I am feeling older than dirt, and yet I realize that I still have a long time to do all of the things I want to do, which I will get to later.

Friday, a pack of ladies and I drove to Vegas to kick off a weekend of decadence, debauchery and reliving childhood fantasies as legal, consenting adults ;). The weekend was the bomb, and my only regret is that we didn’t stay longer.

Friday morning, I packed the rest of my stuff and J dumped me off at Sarah’s house, and from Sarah’s house we met up with the rest of our “Carpool” at Chik-Fil-A (which I’d never had before, hah!). We hit the road around 11 after some juggling of luggage and musical SUV chairs, and minus a pitstop in Barstow, it was pretty much a straight shot through the desert to LV. We actually hit the hotel at just past 3pm and ended up having to wait til 4 to check in.

To be honest, I don’t even really remember what we did to kill that hour, but once we did get checked in (We got a suite at The Desert Rose, behind the Tropicana and Hooters) we trekked the strip for to scope out all the places we wanted to drink and shop, and headed up toward the mall across from the Wynn for our 7:30 dinner reservations at Maggiano’s, which was delicious. I had Tuscan-Style Mussels and a really good, really dry Pinot Grigio, and we checked out some hot irish eyecandy at the bar. Holy shit.

After dinner, the other girls wanted to take a cab, and Sarah’s bloodsugar was low, but Loryn and I were still high on life and decided to hoof it and meet them back at the hotel. We were on a mission, not only to find a piercing parlor that wasn’t too skeevy (I was damn determined to re-pierce my nose as a birthday present to myself) but to buy those yard-long drinks and guzzle them all the way back down the strip.

We were unsuccessful in finding the right piercer, and we were distracted by flirting with the hooker-card guys and freaking them all out. (Not to mention the dancing Dunkin Donut and Coffee), but we did finally find the Karaoke bar with the 3 foot long drinks. Loryn got a frozen margarita, and I, of course, got a cosmo, which was surprisingly well-blended and FULL of alcohol.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we were more than a little drunk, and thank you Hooters, for being our beacon to guide us home.

I had no clue what our plans were for the night, so I curled up on the couch with the remnants of my giant cosmo, Sarah handed me a Corona, and someone came out of nowhere with a cake for me and Tammy (It was Tammy’s birthday weekend too!) which neither of us were expecting. We blew out the candles, chowed on the cake, and I finally finished that damn cosmo and slammed a few more beers and then we headed out.

We ended up going to LAX at the Luxor. I usually actually hate clubbin’, but it was my birthday, I was already drunk, and I was in the mood for drunken partying, so I was more than happy to go, and let me tell you it was well worth it. First, apparently J-Lo and Marc Anthony were in the house for Marc’s birthday. I didn’t see them, and I didn’t even realize it until I just opened the LAX webpage to link it here, so that’s pretty funny. I do know that nobody would let me buy my own drinks, and people just kept feeding them to me and by the time I was done, I was actually drunk enough to be in the middle of the dance floor and eventually danced - a little. Which I never, ever usually even leave the bar or a table. Hah. Oh, and Criss Angel… let me just say that skanky bastard is just as hot in person, in a sweaty club.

mmmm.

So, anyway, we left the club at some point after 4am, stumbled drunkenly home (again, Hooters showing us the way) and managed to get propositioned by everything with a penis between the Luxor and our hotel, including some surprisingly cute frat-boy types who were begging us to make out, a limo driver (or was I harassing the limo guy? I don’t remember) and some dudes who stumbled out of the casino when we did.

I spent pretty much the entire night drunk texting my entire phonebook, including people I hadn’t spoken to in months, who I am sure hate me right now, but oh well. I was ALMOST embarassed the next morning when I read them, but lucky for me I have awesome friends who know my crazy side well enough to not be mad at my random requests for penis and boob pictures. (eek).

Loryn and I both woke up after about 4 hours sleep, lazed around a bit and then gathered up Sarah for some breakfast, after which I realized I’d lost my I.D.

Yes, I am in Vegas, on my 30th birthday, and I have NO FUCKING I.D.

What?

So, we go back to the hotel and tear everything apart 40 times looking for it. J doesn’t answer my phone call, so I end up spending an hour bawling on the phone to Jon who somehow manages to talk me out of my panic attack and walk me through the night before until I calm down. (thanks, ilu). Loryn and I decide to retrace our steps back to the Luxor, and try security and the club, but no luck at all. I then spend the entire day obsessively calling the club, because I am convinced they have my damn I.D. somewhere.

To cheer me up, Loryn and I do the touristy sight-seeing thing, do some window-shopping, stare at cute boys and ride the Roller Coaster at NY NY which finally tips us into a hangover, after which we headed back to the hotel to get slutty for the concert.

The concert.

THE CONCERT.

20 years ago, I loved the New Kids on the Block more than life itself. I loved them. My 10 year old self wanted to grow up and have Joe McIntyre’s babies. Or Donnie’s. I had sheets, dolls, my walls were wallpapered with cut out magazine photos, the works. But, I was “too young” to ever go to a concert. I eventually grew out of the music and onto other things, but NKOTB was my very first hardcore fangirl experience.

So 20 years later, they are back, and we have tickets. And let me tell you, it was fucking awesome and I am much more appreciative than I would have been at 10, especially when Donnie very slowly and deliberately grabbed his stuff. Holy. Shit. Honestly, in their mid-late 30’s they are much, much sexier than they were two decades ago. Or maybe as an adult I appreciate it more. But they were on point, they can still bring it, and I GOT TO TOUCH A NEW KID ON THE FUCKING BLOCK.

Yes.

So, there is an afterparty at LAX. We get there and park in the bar next to the red carpet where they’ll be entering. When they come through, everyone dashes out of the bar to get to this tiny opening - leaving the entire bench row after the red carpet open. Loryn and I jump on the couch and soon after a bunch of other whores realize what we’re doing and jump too, but we were RIGHT THERE when they walked by. Me and Loryn SCREAMED Joey’s name like 12 year old idiots and he turned around and omfg. Loryn got the best picture ever. (We will ignore my crappy cellphone shot and focus on the awesome that is Loryn and her camera)

Sup baby. Why u so fly? I on the other hand, was trying to crawl over loryn’s back and touched him as he turned away from the pic. Jordan was behind him and they were grabbing our hands as they walked by, but turned right after this picture to be fair to the other side of screaming women, so I BARELY missed Jordan who almost gave me a handgrab but my arm was too short, lol.

So, after our tweenie wet dreams were fulfilled, we bribed our way into the club (they were NOT letting anyone else in, bastards), let some skeezy guys buy me some drinks, had some more corona and wound our way through the crowd and got to see NKOTB perform three songs, in the club, mere FEET away from us.

Totally worth the bribe to get in. Totally.

4am saw us trekking back to the hotel again, where Loryn and I had some ribs and passed out watching TV, not wanting the weekend to end, since Sunday was our trip back to California.

Boo.