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Any of you that were on twitter last night, may have read a Tweet about me going to a country concert. I am not knocking country, and I have a whole rant worked up for after the concert. I am just not a country type of girl. Give me Halestorm, 5FDP, Stone Sour, or Pop Evil (especially their bass player Matt.)  We all know how I like to be distracted while working out. So I immediately read her text, which asks if I want to go to a concert on Saturday. I don’t know if you have noticed or not, but I do not get out much, so I jumped at the chance. Not asking what concert.

I am now the proud owner of a Lady Antebellum concert ticket for Saturday night. I am biting my tongue; I will do my rant later after the concert. I promise. (You are forewarned.)

Last night while trying to fall asleep I was wondering “What does one wear, to a country concert?” Ok I lie; I was thinking “What the Fuck am I going to wear?”

I then remember that I have a pair of cowboy boots I bought last year when I went to Vegas. Then I remember why I have only worn them that one time.

VEGAS BABY.

I was there with Jm, (I think this may be the first time I have mentioned Jm, and you will read a lot about him.) It was our third night there, and we decided to go to Fremont Street.  (Fremont Street, is old Vegas and has lots of debauchery, and people watching)

After having a few cocktails, (we all know how well I hold my liquor) and walking around Jm has to go to the restroom. So there I am standing in the middle of a casino, in cowboy boots, pigtails, and well you can see what I was wearing in the picture (you can also tell I was pleasantly buzzed.) when a drunken business man stumbles over to me. (I need to tell you that he was very short.) I ignored him, figuring that he would just stumble past me, but no, not my luck.

He get right in front of me, and says to my boobs, (since that was high he reached) “you aren’t a good girl are you” I looked at him, totally confused. He takes my silence as an agreement to his statement, and continues. “How much for the night?”

Seriously, he must have been on some good shit to mistake me for a hooker, and actually want to pay for me. (Maybe he had some cowgirl fetish, the hell if I will ever figure out why he came over to me.) I am shocked silent, which is not something that happens often. By now my would be “Tiny John” is leaning on my arm, unable to hold himself up.

I look over, hoping to see the hidden camera or someone yelling that I was “punked.” When a biker, wearing “Lords of Chaos” leathers, complete with tattoos on his bald skull stands up from his slot machine, and starts walking toward us.

I’m thinking that I am about to die, which really pisses me off, because I was promised a buffet that night. Biker dude, tells my Tiny John, to leave me alone. Right about this time, Jm decides to make his appearance. He looks at me, my leaning Tiny John, and Biker Dude, and back to me with an expression I can only describe as, “What the fuck did you do now?”

I shuck off Tiny, and grab Jm by the arm leading him away. He starts to ask questions, but I shush him and keep on walking. While Tiny John yells “that he would pay me more” and Biker Dude telling him to “leave me alone.” Is shouted behind us.

This was my first adventure in my cowboy boots, and Saturday will be their second. I am sure there will be plenty to tell you.

Also Thank You Scary Biker Dude, for being a gentleman and assisting me. It goes to show you, you cannot judge a person until you see their actions.

Oh Yeah, good news I made it to the buffet.