Vegas baby!

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I have discovered the culprits of the bites - I have not been the victim of mosquitoes after all but bedbugs that really do bite - an additional extra courtesy of Bella's hostel in Caye Caulker. If you are ever on the island - stay well clear. I thought "Bella" gave me a funny look when i said i needed to get some ointment for mosquitos and i could see her eyeing the bites on my arm warily and then later discover that as soon as i left they were fumigating the mattresses from my room.

I have had an allergic reaction to them which means they have swollen into blistery heads and look more like mozzie bites than the ususal little red rash caused by bed bugs. I have a feeling this bed has been home to some full grown adult bugs for some time as they have chomped their way right up me in their trademark straight line and sets of three (breakfast, lunch and dinner.)

I arrive into Vegas weighing about 100 pounds with bite marks marching in a single line all the way up one arm across my shoulders and down the other. I'm here to play wing woman to one of my oldest and best female friends – Louise Duffy – business woman extraordinaire and a veritable power house of blonde hair and boobs with an “unforgettable voice” and a laugh that could wake the dead. I look and feel like a skinny flea bitten dog. I get to the Wynn where one of my oldest and closest friends the incomparable Louise where Duffy has booked me in as a little birthday treat – and of course so that I can be here as her wing woman (i'm a great wing woman...) In fact as i'm not brilliant shall we say at planning and Duffy likes nothing better than to organise and chivvy those less competent than her (I.e me) so in actual fact my entire round the world year long trip was actually concocted over a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in her apartment and designed specifically so that I could join her for the World Series of poker in Vegas in July.

The Wynn hotel room is one of the most luxurious in Vegas - and everywhere you go (even in the taxis) Steve Wynn's voice seems to follow you around. It's all automatic drapery, white leather soft furnishings and the best most comfy king size bed in the world. It is exacty what I need.

Because Duffy doesn't really like hanging out with the plebians (or grockles) as she calls them we spend most of my 10 days sunbathing in poolside cabanas with waitress service and hanging out on private tables in the fantastic poolside clubs.

We go and see the Penn and Teller show - which is fun with some genuinely shocking and jaw dropping moments – including their super gory and entertaining take on the old cut a woman in half standard but - stil not enough to justify the 100 dollar ticket price for an hour and a half methinks.

We spend the first night on the rooftop terrace of the Voodoo lounge – which is the bar and club at the top of the Rio where the poker World Series is being played. IT gives a great and golden view of the Vegas city lights at night.

I am delighted to say i have a friend in Jesus...literally...a softly spoken curly haird Mexican living in San Francisco and working for Pixar. He takes me to his cousin's mexican wedding as his date. He warns me the ceremony will go on and on it goes – an hour long catholic mass. Jesus is gay – as is one of his cousins who greets me with a firm handshake in pin stripe suit.

"That's the dyke," says Jesus in a stage whisper –

"Ummm I kind of worked that one out I say!"

"Oooh i'm gonna tell her you said that..." he says with an evil grin.

The wedding is held outside in the grounds of a Greek Orthodox Church. There is a beautiful fruit display on a table when we arrive along with little fruit men made out of watermelon.

" I must take a photo of you with it" i say to Jesus.

"Aaah the fruit with the fruits..." says Jesus wistfully.

We have fans at the table which is lucky as its pushing a 100 degrees but its more manageable once the sun goes in. I am still feeling the effects of the Voodoo lounge from the night before and the ongoing stomach infection which the antibiotics prescribed in Belize don't seem to have shifted.

Plus the hangover isn't helped by an abrasive live Mariachi band that proceeds to launch into some old Mexican favourites - dehydrated and hungover and a shrill Mexican trumpet going off in my air - painful.

The head bridesmaid comes over – she is resplendent in peach and just 19.

"Oh i'm ok "she says to Jesus "Mum gave me a Zanex to help calm me down..."

Gotta love America.

There follow some Latin American wedding rituals - the pinning of the money onto bride and groom – (Jesus steps in to queue manage and later says "I said to my cousin – why wouldn't you want to do this part – do you like money??!!!.")

You can make thousands (mental note for if my day ever comes...)

I almost get tangled up and steam rollered over by a frenetic conga led by the head bridesmaid for the girls and then the groom leading the men. There is the traditional throwing of the bouquet to the bridesmaids and then the slightly unconventional removal of the garter by the groom to the tune of The Full Monty who then throws it to the men. As with the throwing of the bouquet - whomsoever is the lucky recipient will be next down the aisle. Unfortunatley whoever came up with this little tradition forget how truly commitment phobic men are. The poor garter lands forlornly in the middle of the men who jump back as if stung and refuse to pick it up. In the end its down to Jesus to take one for the team.

The next day in the evening Louise, me and her posse of 21 year old boys that she sponsors to play in tournaments (or her stable as she calls it) get a poolside table (or rather huge red kingsize bed to recline on) at Surrender nightclub. Its such a treat just to be able to lounge around outside in a minscule dress and heels without having to worry about freezing to death. All the women in Vegas seem to wear a prescribed uniform of tight body con spandex mini dress (or Prostitute dress as i like to call it) hooker heels and blow dry. Its made me decide to turn up at the next club in jeans and flats - and hell i'll still look pretty and i won't look like all the other Valley of the Doll plastics out there.

“This D.J seems to be playing a lot of Black eyed Peas ...” I wonder aloud.

" Oh my God Dominique please tell me you haven't just realised..."

"eerrrrr..."

"Didn' t you pass all the posters on your way in? and we went up to dance a minute ago..."

Ummm. Observation isn't my strong point. Turns out that the DJ is none other than Will.i.am himself.

Oh. That explains it then – i'm wonderfully oblivious of most things in life..

Duffy decides to play in a tournament at the Venetian part way through my stay which means i'm left to my own devices – she does really well -lasting three days, getting to the final table and scooping a cool 18k for her troubles. Its just as well as I would have been terrible company. The antibiotics I took in Mexico haven't cleared up my stomach infection and as well as upset stomach I now have a fever . And even worse than that. I think i've brought a few bed bugs with me.

I request a hoover for my room, buy something called isopropyl alchol from Walgreens and make a homeade spray. I hoover my backpack and bedding, I spray everything with alcohol. Then I tell the reception I want a room change because of insects ( I fail to mention that I think i've brought the insects with me...) they look at me as if i'm utterly deranged.

I lay on the sofa too ill to move for a while – a bed bug bites me on the face. Just to remind me that they are still there.

But I have a feeling that the Wynn are used to more unusal demands than me so I get relocated to an even more beautiful room - I think the bed bugs will appreciate the new great view of the golf course.

Alison -another friend of Duffy's – joins for my final weekend, and as she is getting married in August we throw an impromptu hen do and pay a visit to The Chippendales followed by a lap dancing club.

My illness is in full swing again so I have to remain stone cold sober throughout. I have a feeling its probably not how either of the shows are best enjoyed. There is something weirdly unerotic about the Chippendales (and the lap dances for that matter.) A very blandly American and homogenised version of what men think women think is sexy. They certainly try and tick every fantasy box women could concoct, business suits, motorbikes, firehoses, uniform etc but its all very tame and I guess at the end of the day – knowing that the guys are being paid to be there and go through the motions with me is just NOT a turn on.

I feel bad because i've been brought in as a wing woman and am now failing spectacularly at my job because of illness – but luckily it overlaps with Alison's arrival and the fact that Duffy managed to scoop up a boyfriend about a week after I left the country meaning misbehaving wasn't really on the cards anyway.

We have a final meal together before I fly off to Sydney and i'm hugely embarrassed by a VERY inappropriate conversaton the girls decide to have over the table which is probably too rude even for this blog! So I say farewell to Duffy -best girlfriend extraordinaire -safe in the knowledge that her boyfriend is about to fly out and join her and help her make the most of her mirrored ceiling.

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