A Not-So-Day-In-The-Life: Jennifer Nettles on living the (not quite) rock star life in Vegas

Thu, Apr 15, 2010 at 12:00 AM

Everyone likes to think the life of a musician is all parties and Dom, private jets and shopping sprees. For some, this may be true. For me, it is not, and this fact has been known to disappoint a few people. (Though these are the same folks that scurry to read the "Stars: They're Just Like Us" section of the celebrity rags, which captures and displays -- for the amusement and amazement of the tabloid-hungry viewers -- celebrities at the grocery, buying coffee, pushing their kids on the swing, picking their noses, etc., etc. Hypocritical of those folks to clamor for Brad and Angie's quotidien, kid-infused pictures while strolling the hairspray aisle at the drug store, and yet still hope to see me swinging from the chandeliers, but I digress...)

However, as I have had a stellar day today, fit for a Robin Leach voiceover, I thought I would share it with you, for your voyeur within. 

This story is set in Las Vegas where I am to celebrate the 2010 ACMs. I don't particularly care for Vegas, as it makes me think of Disneyland for drunk adults who stumble around without looking where they are walking, blissful to have left the rugrats with the grandparents and who consequently will then proceed to drink as if they've just been released from prison. I have to be in a wildly festive mood to darken the door of a casino, as it is largely ruled by four of my least favorite things:

1. Drunken adults making up for lost time in Gymboree or church, so they party like it's 1999. Again. 

2. Recycled Cigarette Smoke. This is where the casinos allow smoking -- in a effort to keep people inside and gambling -- but try to cover it up with some sort of coconut scent which just ends up smelling like a coconut flavored ass on fire. 

3. Cold. In an effort to keep people awake (and to keep the burning coconut ass smell less noticeable) the temperature of a casino is freezing. Remember my Olympic blog? I'm not very fond of the cold. 

4. Loud, continuous, dinging noises. Annoying unless one is completely smashed or three years old. 

Now, I realize that my personal opinions of our fair City of Scandal may make me sound like a complete and total itch-bay. But fear not my sweet swillers of sin, I have found an oasis in this dinging, drunken, neon desert, and am able to actually enjoy myself on several levels!

I love being from the East Coast while working out west. The time change works in my favor and allows me to feel complete Virgo satisfaction by having me naturally wake before 7 a.m. This is the case today. I casually make my way down to a lazy breakfast where I sip green tea and write in my journal until my breakfast arrives at the table: egg white fritatta and a side of mixed berries. 

After breakfast I go and work out. The hotel has a really nice gym and I don't feel like I need to disinfect every inch of it. Plus, since it's Vegas and most people are here to forget their bodies as well as their minds, I pretty much have the place to myself. Another perk!

After my workout I stroll by the spa desk and make myself an appointment for a massage. I return to my room and have a shower with some yummy-smelling bath products by Bulgari, provided by the hotel. By this time I need some lunch in order to make my massage appointment on time (and since I had breakfast at the ass crack of dawn, I am hungry already anyway). 

I make my way to the restaurant where I proceed to read BUST magazine, seated outside, until my fish tacos arrive. The kind waitress asks if I want a glass of wine, to which I reply, "I'd like all of them, but I can't today." I pay my bill and head in the direction of the spa.

The spa is wonderful, with comfy robes and, my favorite, cucumber flavored water. (I love this stuff. I also read somewhere that there was a smell test conducted on men and women to see which scents were the most arousing. For women it was cucumber. For men, pizza. No joke. Hey, I read it, so it must be true right?!) I meet my therapist, choose an essential oil scent I like (too bad they don't have pizza oil as an option; I'm interested), and have a wonderful massage that leaves divots in my face for about two hours. I also buy some face moisturizer because I am currently almost out of mine and do not want to be caught in a desert without some. 

After my massage I return to my room, read some more, doze a bit, make some phone calls, send some emails and take another shower to wash off the pizza scent -- just kidding -- to wash off the massage oil. 

Presently I am sitting outside by the pool, having a snack and listening to the three little British children in the pool say things like, "Duddy, I wont to du a hondstond in the wotah." (Translation: "Daddy, I want to do a handstand in the water.") (These are the only children I've seen here. Probably because their parents are British and don't know that children aren't allowed in Vegas and that they should have left them with grandmummy and grandduddy.) (Poor things are probably trapped here in the Icelandic volcanic ash business!)

I came out here to sit and read, but ended up writing this blog instead, and to let my hair dry in the arid desert breeze because I left my hair dryer at home. Duh. In the meantime, I wish you all "champagne wishes and caviar dreams."

- Jennifer

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  1. littlemiss5 avatar

    On Thu, Dec 8, 2011 at 6:07 PM, littlemiss5 said:

    I bet you had an amazing time in Vegas.

  2. Coreym avatar

    On Sun, Nov 27, 2011 at 7:36 AM, Coreym said:

    God I love you

  3. SAStoner7984 avatar

    On Mon, Feb 28, 2011 at 4:03 AM, SAStoner7984 said:

    OOOooo good lord in heaven (or mine anyways!) Gym.. Therapist.. Massage.. & Pool.. (I agree w. 'wendysurf' though.. maybe a quite, sun-soaked beach!) PURE relaxation, enough said! As I have said before though.. If I could ONLY live A DAY in the life of you Ms. Nettles... lol Have some fun & LOTS of relaxation for me! ;)

  4. the golux avatar

    On Fri, Jan 14, 2011 at 10:53 PM, the golux said:

    Okay. Now I am in my own little hoggy-heaven. I deciphered the riddle of the order of the blogs. Here it is: I actually missed an entire year of your writings. That's how far gone I was. Long story; I won't bore you with the details. Anyway, returning now from what I'll affectionately refer to as my neurotic fugue state, (let's call it NFS in case it needs mentioning in the future), I find that the masses do not worship the inner workings of your mind in the same way that I do. Thus the lack of chatter. Just look at this beautiful blankness! Which means I can simply speak to you, which God knows I needed. No one is looking. Nobody cares. So, let's start this party! Ready? "Shalom." (I don't know if I will ever tell you the shalom story. I reserve the right to clam up, in the interest of respecting the magic, but we'll have to see what we see.) Right now there are more pressing issues to discuss. Like cucumbers and pizza. I had to re-read that line three times to believe it. Cucumbers. Really. You don't have to be a Freudian...I'm sorry. I'll just stop right now with that business. (I don't, at present, frequent any establishments that offer this treat; so I'll find myself a recipe. I'm guessing: "chill cucumbers in potable water," but I'll still check.) It did get me thinkin' about my natural inclination toward that particular scent. It does delight, and it has a calming cleanness about it. On the other hand, I did spend my formative young adult years in pizzeria's, so I have strong happy-feeling associations with that aroma, too. Oh, and look what's just happened. A more me-specific metaphor has emerged. Well...there you have it. I'm just so relieved, sweet girl, to find this place to leave little notes for you. I am not completely daft, you know. For example, I know that desperate aint pretty. And I know that going to your fan-site with the grittier side of my creative process wasn't appropriate. And I know that perhaps a more cunning move would have to preen and prune in the wings until I had or was a presentable finished product. I know this. But I have done way too much of that in my life to risk it. I'm pretty sure, convinced actually, that the course of my creative journey, therefore the possibility of manifesting my own authenticity-was contingent upon presenting myself to you. Maybe just to keep me from running. I don't know, but it doesn't matter. I showed up...that matters. Now, whether you can make it through my notes without a bottle of wine is yet to be discovered. As you can see, my schoolin' was flawed. It's hard not to fall into the big gaping holes in my comprehension of basic grammar, sentence structure...you know, English. And I don't know if you can bear it. Even drunk. But I don't know if you need to know me. People do, don't get me wrong. I just don't know about that part of the story. I know my part, and I know that I must write what you inspire in me. I absolutely must not run from here. So read along if you can, if you want to, if my little musings amuse...I have so much to say. I have a whole keel full of letters to you in here. My letters to June. I can feel it. I can't seem to not feel it. I don't know what the letter's say either, by the way. But I want to. And this is how we find out.

  5. wendysurf avatar

    On Thu, Nov 11, 2010 at 7:16 AM, wendysurf said:

    Sounds fun. Except make it on the beach with some awesome waves, in a smooth glassy ocean. My kind of fun!

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