Joffe: Never Spend a Week in Vegas

Joffe: Never Spend a Week in Vegas article feature image

Back in college there was a bar schedule:

Tuesday: Dirtbags
Wednesday: Gentle Bens
Thursday: Maloney’s
Friday: House party
Saturday: O’Malley’s

And with little exception I kept to this schedule and still made it to class (sorta). That was back when I could hang. Now I drink one glass of wine too many and I’m useless for two days.

So just imagine how much my body hates me right now after what I did to it in Vegas last week: Five (almost six) straight nights of drinking and gambling and yelling.


The result hasn’t been pleasant for those around me. Sample Conversation No. 1 from this week:

Anyone: “You feel like going out for dinner?”
Me: “+250 my ass moves off this couch.”

Sample Conversation No. 2:

Nephew: “Auntie Lauren I have to tell you the funniest thing!”
Me: “-190 it’s about some dumb video you saw on YouTube.”

And to think … I took PRECAUTIONS while in Vegas (more on those later). If I hadn’t, I’d almost certainly be in the ER right now. But the point I’m about to make still stands: There is absolutely NO REASON to ever spend more than four days in Vegas.

I should note this isn’t the first time I’ve done it, and I’m sure it won’t be my last, but it’s time for you to learn from my misery.


I used to think the brand of liquor didn’t matter when drinking. I was wrong. It makes a HUGE difference in your recovery. I realize it’s much easier to do the more money you’re willing to spend, but given the ridiculous minimums we were paying, it only made sense to get the good stuff. (Side note: I’d be more than happy to endorse any liquor brand that can pass my test. Step 1: Send me free liquor.)

WARNING: This can only help so much.

It definitely worked, and by that I mean it made me drink even more. So I guess it didn’t work?


While in Vegas I get what is lovingly called “Party girl voice.” It’s not nearly as sexy as it sounds, and the older I get, the longer it lasts. Between the recycled air in the closed-window hotels, the smoke filled casinos, the drinking (I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how this messes with your throat, but it’s gotta be part of it), and yelling that goes on, you end up sounding like 70-year-old phone sex operator. Sure some people are into this sort of thing, but it sticks with you when you get back and people look at you funny. There’s nothing like a business call where you sound like you need an exorcism.

So, pro tip: Get yourself outside. Let the sun touch your face and the fresh air breathe into your lungs … before going back inside and ruining your body all over again.


I do this every time I fly. I have to pass the time somehow and what better way than a few cocktails? Getting wasted on the plane ride to Vegas — especially a 6 a.m. flight from the east coast (don’t judge) — is like getting sunburned in the car on the way to the beach. Since you never know what time it is in Vegas, this translated to 12-plus hours of drinking, only half of which are actually in Vegas.

Longest. Day. Ever.

Oh, and I did this on the flight home, too. Why do I hate myself so much?

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