Ohhhh-Kaaay!

Hooray for intelligence!

If you try really hard, you can see a bit of my shirt behind the dumbass chick in the shorts at the left.
She didn't have to lean like that... I mean, there were four of us that needed to scoot over near her, but she decided to block my cousin and I like that (yes, there are TWO girls sitting behind her). Fine by me (I just can't get over how retarded she was at jumping in front of us like that).

Anyway, as exemplified by the photo above, last night was interesting.
Besides hanging out with a bunch of girls who only wanted to get twisted and get photos taken of them at the venue, I had to deal with a bunch of dudes who seemed to be wearing some mean-ass beer-goggles. Somehow, last night I became the motherfuckin' belle of the ball. I was highly confused by the attention... and extremely uncomfortable.
Do they think I'm a prostitute? WTF? Relax, dudes. I'm a bitch, leave me alone. No, I'm not interested in doing anything with your mouth, hands, and especially not your dick. I just came to dance, get away from me.
Somehow, my Don't you fucking DARE talk to me vibe was untraceable once I entered the club. As a person who dislikes bodily contact, this only spelled disaster for me.
The continuous caressing of my shoulders, back, and/or ass as I walked by went well past the annoying stage, and started to reach the critical level where I was damn near close to screaming "QUIT FUCKING TOUCHING ME!" while pushing dudes into the pool... but I kind of didn't feel like getting banned from all MGM-Mirage properties. And when I think about it, I probably shouldn't complain so much-- at least they were not touching me with their crotch (which seemed to be the preferred method of contact in CanCun).

It also didn't help that this guy happened to be hosting the night:

Yey-AH! OH-KAY!

I was as FAR away from this as possible.

I left after three songs.
Yeah, I'm a party animal.