The fact that I can remember New Year's Eve in Las Vegas might not sound great to others, but trust me, it's just perfect in my book. There's nothing like a night of debauchery and Petron, poles and beautiful people (my girl and I being two of them, sorry, gotta represent you know).
Just to stay consistent with how we rated out New Year's at Tryst
It all begins with
You Know Your New Year's Was Good At Tryst When:
-you can work it on the pole better than all the other women, including the strippers in the house, and leave with your dignity
-my feet didn't kill because my new Blahniks I bought myself earlier that day fit so damn well that they were as comfy as sexy
-the Petron that I was drinking with my girl was free, yes, thanks Kanye,,,,
-I didn't wake up with a hangover, and neither did she
-I actually looked good in the morning when I woke up because I wasn't too drunk to forget to remove my eyeliner before bed
-I was sober enough to enjoy my double stuffed potato springrolls (and yes folks, that title is actually trademarked by the Grand Lux Cafe)
-I rang the new year's in not listening to shitty music, and got down with my bad self for hours breakin' the sweat that I love to break
-I went home with someone, woke up to them, had breakfast with them, and didn't feel guilty because (A) I went to the club with them and had every intention of taking them home, and (B) I didn't wake up with my ex
This means that as the ball dropped in hometown number three (NYC bitches) that I looked at the beautiful waterfall and smiled, realized I still look good, and had the most beautiful woman on my arm at the club. If that shits not good while sippin' on free shots from Mr. West, goddam I just don't know what is.......I just have a feeling, it's gonna be a damn good year.
Holla bitches, we own Las Vegas