Etiquette issue: When a stripper puts a titty all in your face, should your mouth be open or closed? If open, then can the tongue come into play? I played it closed as I was somewhat taken aback by the abrupt chestal assault. For the record they smelled like a vanilla syrup. Kind of gross actually.
On the flight to Vegas I was boxed in like a castled king with two Canadians to my right and three in the row in front of me. Of course the one sitting closest to me was the one whose parents didn't love him. He kept up an annoying stream of banter the whole way. If it was quiet for too long he would literally start saying to his buddies, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? ....How about now?"
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the annoying guy placed one of his nuts on the head of the guy sitting in front of me. That was funny. It would have been funnier if they weren't honey roasted and complimentary, mais c'est la vie.
On the plane I read some of James Frey's much maligned "A Million Little Pieces". The book was on sale for 20% off at B&N so I copped it. What the fuck do I care if it's true or not? It still got raves from the LA Times, Chicago Tribune, NY Times, Washington Post, and pretty much every major publication before they found the lies out. I read it as fiction, and it still blew my head out. A scintillating tale of crack addiction, alcoholism, violence, prostitution, organized crime, and bloody stools if there ever was one. I'd like to see that last sentence on the cover of the next edition.
Never take your girlfriend to a high school friend's wedding. Maybe even don't take your wife. Never take your girlfriend to Las Vegas. You'll want to talk to your friends that you haven't seen lately, and she'll give you shit for not paying enough attention to her. Actual quote: "It was the worst I've ever felt!" My laughing response: "Then you've had a fine life." Fortunately Makaela realized this too and will no longer accompany me to Las Vegas. On the plus side she accurately pointed out that the bar Coyote Ugly in New York, New York bears an eerie resemblance to Betas.
There was one highlight at Coyote Ugly however. A girl without panties was dancing on the bar and the girl hype man said quote, "Her landing strip looks like Hitler's mustache." To which Michelman, Camm, and I toasted. Hitler, people.
After Coyote Ugly we went to Pure at Caesar's Palace where there was a Playboy lingerie show featuring a Pussycat Dolls performance. It was nearly impossible to get in, but Butchart pulled some strings from out of nowhere and we got to skip the line. It pays to know people and it pays to know Buttshit. Despite a rather sharp (if I may say) collared shirt I was denied entry to Pure based on my sneakers. Dorky Chris aka Dirt McGirt however was let in with sneakers because he was wearing a sport coat with his jeans. Michelman ran into Lennox Lewis inside and I was jealous of that. The place apparently didn't turn out so cool because after we skipped the line those that got in had to pay a $30 cover. The room was too crowded and you couldn't get drinks.
To compensate for my missing out of Lennox Lewis, I ended up running into recently retired All-time Could'a Been Jonathan Bender formerly of the Pacers. Seven feet is quite tall in person.
On the gambling front I lost $40 in four hands playing blackjack the first night. I decided to focus on drinking for the rest of the trip. Featured drink of the weekend: Maker's on the rocks. Delicious. Preeminently tip your waitress for desired pour. A j may or may not have been rolled inside of O'Shea's and then enjoyed in the alley behind Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville.
Rules for next Vegas trip:
1)No Makaela
2)No Coyote Ugly
3)Wear dark shoes and collared shirt every night out just in case
4)No fucking around with anything but straight whiskey
5)Must visit Toby Keith's "I Love This Bar...and Grill"
See you in late August/early September, Vegas. I'll get you yet.
