"I'M GONNA PUT my balls in your gutter!" Such was the classy, witty banter and not-too-mild posturing that went on at Red Rock's Ultralanes during the Red Rock Retreat VIP Industry bowling tournament. Looking across the 10 lanes, it was nothing but VIP hosts, cocktail servers, DJs and promoters as far as the eye could see. Not a tourist or unfamiliar face in sight. I believe tears sprung to my eyes at one point. That could also have been the tears of anger inspired when some chick with big boobs horned in on my game and threw two gutter balls on my third frame. And right after a spare and a strike! After the tournament (where Tao kicked some serious ass!) I saw her again by the Cherry pool for the party that would take us into the wee hours; I was tempted to throw her in but hanging with LA band Transfer was far higher on my list of things to do that night along with eat a divine steak dinner at T-Bones, take a bubble bath in my awesome hotel room and pass out just before dawn in a bed that I later described to someone as "utterly delicious." So delicious was the bed at Red Rock that I stayed in it, finally emerging late Tuesday to catch the tail end of the daytime Cherry pool party, dinner at Hachi and check out after 7 p.m. In all, I spent nearly two and a half days there! Retreat, indeed! The promotion will be going on into the fall when it will morph into a cool weather version of itself and hopefully stick around for a long time. I don't know anyone out here who couldn't use a Monday and Tuesday away from it all without actually getting too away from it all!

And some stresses and kinks take a while to work out. On Wednesday, July 4 I braved the oppressive, dead-calm and the windless heat, not to mention the crowds, to see Chris Clouse perform live at Tao Beach. It's a good thing there was a pool in the way otherwise I think the poor young man would have been trampled by scores of sex-crazed ladies. Not a bad way to go, though…

Thursday night I settled into Sidebar for a long night of mixology with my colleague Matt, my mentor Martin, and way too many bottles of Montecristo Rum. Via Josh, a Montecristo rep, and with help from GM Bill Haskin and bartendress Erica, we ground the night down to a nub picking our way through mojitos, daiquiris (the real kind, not frozen), muddled fruit, reduced syrups, and, eventually, shots. Yeegads. Thankfully, Bill saved us and had the Triple George kitchen whip up two orders of their original recipe Mac & Cheese. This all led to the inevitable moment when, on the way to the cars at midnight, someone piped up with, "Wanna hit DCR?" Why not?! Downtown Cocktail Room owner Michael Cornthwaite and bartender/ manager George were awaiting a late night hit and we did a mighty good job of keeping everyone in the place entertained with our loud and lusty tales of misadventures in sex and dating. Glad we could be of assistance. If you were there, please disregard anything you may have heard…

The Downtown odyssey continued Friday with the Get Back, the First Friday afterparty at Beauty Bar where entertainer Toni James and I trolled the crowd to find sexy ladies for July's installment of the Drop Dead Gorgeous Beauty Pageant. The mission was easily accomplished though the heat from the back lot's pavement did all but melt our shoes, even after midnight. I'm surprised the B-boys didn't stick to the ground as they spun and twirled on heads and backs. Sweet relief was eventually found in the back room at The Griffin where DJ 88 was finishing up her funky, eclectic set. For her last song she and I—for some strange reason; I blame vodka—performed a sort of impromptu dance routine that appeared to be a cross between an Arthur Murray dance lesson and the Pussycat Dolls. I dunno what got into me. Oh yeah, it was the vodka. As with the previous night, we rounded out the night at DCR. George had promised to wear his "cocktail pants," whatever the heck those are, but alas, by the late hour we rolled in, he had taken them off (and put on other pants. Sickos).

Saturday night I went almost as far from Downtown as one can go. The South Point was packed, celebrating the opening of Fever Showclub. Snear at the very thought though you may, I suspect the venue will do a brisk business in comeback performances, package band tours, and locals entertainment. But you can read more about that here www.lasvegasweekly.com/content/nc/nightlife/nights-on-the-circuit/ single-story/article/way-down-south. When the Fever fervor cooled down, I headed to Pure to help give my girlfriend Jade a proper send-off. She is the third and final of my close girlfriends who have decided to leave Las Vegas for good this summer and I'm sort of left behind now to wrap up loose ends with houses, renters and cleaning crews. Definitely a bummer.

So, Sunday I moped. Honestly. No amount of sunshine could convince me to move. By nightfall the score was sun-zero, season two of Lost-one. Just after midnight was when things finally started to look up and I checked into Red Rock for that much needed retreat. Amazing what a little thing like miniature soap and a voluminous white terry bathrobe can do for the spirits. Same thing goes for pink bikinis, midnight cannon-balls and dollar bets on the likelihood that Jimmy Greenup will strip by the sixth frame. But that you can read more about that stuff here next week. Cheers!

For gobs of nightclub gossip and tons of events, follow me to www.TheCircuitLV.com.

Xania Woodman has never met a martini she didn't like.