I shouldn't give this place a two because the description says, \"Meh.  I've experienced better.\"  Well, I haven't experienced better because this is my only experience with a male strip club.  \n\nI should give this place a big fat ZERO because I'm pretty sure the bartender roofied me.  \n\nWhy do I think he roofied me?  Let me tell you.  \n\nA friend of mine had her bachelorette party in Vegas and her maid of honor thought up this brilliant idea of making us all wear corsets- bridesmaids/friends in black and the bride in white.  Well, I'm rather busty, but luckily I saw my drunken future and prepared for the inevitable.  More about this later. \n\nSo, we make The Olympic Garden our first stop and right away the guys bombard us.  They cornered us individually so that we couldn't consult on who everyone was buying lap dances for, and thus we all bought multiple lap dances for the same people.  This is when I learned that lap dances make me uncomfortable, especially if I haven't even had a damn drink yet.  I actually made the poor guy so uncomfortable he asked me if I was feeling ok.  I just don't find guys who kiss their own biceps while gyrating on top of me sexy... I find it funny and maybe a little sad, but not sexy.  \n\nAfter I was dance raped, I made my way to the bar where I recognized the bartender.  My dad owned a bar and I knew this guy had totally worked for him (Note to self- my dad must be a real asshole if this guy did indeed roofie me [sorry daddy, but I'm sure you stopped reading at dance rape if for some reason you stumbled upon this review] and also, this is a small, small world).  So, I asked the guy and after finding out who I was he started pouring me shots.  I had about three the entire time we where there.  Trust me, I can handle three shots and this was all I had to drink for the rest of the night.  Not only that, but he was the only person who came in contact with these shots other than my mouth.  \n\nThis is where my memory gets fuzzy and eventually it just goes dark, but before I forget who I am I decide it'd be fun to call home and tell my dear old dad who I ran into.  Thank God my brother answered and screened the call.  I don't even know what I said to him, but he told me I was pretty out of it.  Last memory from here on out is an image of the limo pulling up and my friends piling in. \n\nThe next day.  I wake up in my hotel room with a start.  I have no idea where I am at first.  I have no idea how I got there and I have no idea how I got out of the corset from last night.  This is where my friends and my boyfriend at the time fill me in.  Luckily, he just happened to be there for the bachelor party, but unfortunately my near death state forced him to miss out on all the stripper action.  Haha, sucker.  \n\nSo, apparently I was completely gone like I'd never been before.  I fell down multiple times in public places and even knocked a friend into an open trash can.  It was so bad that a security guy at MGM Grand offered me a wheelchair, but my friends were afraid he was just some random guy trying to molest me so they continued to lug me around.  I had horrible bruises all over my body the next day to prove just how embarrassing this all must have been.  Here is where my good planning for a drunken future comes in.  I knew that my corset had a tendency to slip, so I wore a lace cami underneath just in case I got too drunk to pay attention to wardrobe malfunctions.  This proved rather smart because all the falling down pulled my corset right off of you know what.  If I hadn't been wearing that cami I would have looked like I was dressed for a topless review. \n\nI also puked in a cab at some point.  The cab driver started yelling in another language and a girl I barley knew caught my freakin' throw up in her hands.  IN HER HANDS! \n\nOnce they got me to the room, I was completely out.  I mean, dead to the world.  Well, until I guess one girl got on my nerves enough to wake me out of my stupor.  My friends told me she was complaining about everyone wanting to wait around a bit to make sure I was okay.  So, I popped my head up long enough to say, \"Be cool, bitch.\"  That was the last thing I would do or say until the morning.\n\nMy poor boyfriend got wind of the state I was in and said I looked like a dead person when he went up to check on me.  He missed out on the rest of the night for fear I would stop breathing.  Apparently, I was completely non-responsive.  \n\nThe next day, I wanted to kill myself.  I have never felt a hangover like that in my entire life.  It was HORRIBLE.  \n\nIn conclusion, I have no way of knowing what was in those drinks.  All I know is that no amount of binge drinking ever rendered me completely unconscious and without memory of an entire night worth of events.  Everything after leaving the strip club is like a dark hole in my memory- it's just blank, as if the rest of the night didn't even exist.\n\nP.S.  I highly identified with The Hangover... for obvious reasons.