Yep, I'm back from the old L-Vega (that's what we regulars call it) and I've got newly found 'tude.
Hence the non-blogging. Plus, I'm pretty sure they haven't heard of the internet in all of Nevada. Now, by law I'm only allowed to share so much about Las Vegas. What happens in Vegas.... you know. Everyone has to sign a waiver forfeiting their life if they tell to much. Right off the plane. No jokes. But I'll just cover the basics.
We'll start with my first image of Vegas--
Now who's joking?
Apparently Vegas doesn't apply to the 'we fuck around' theory. They really don't. It's like Boom! --Check out some auto's. It's not like you turn to your friend later and you're like "I wanna join an LA gang, let's bust some caps tonight. Now what was the name of that firearms store again?" Oh wait, how about The Gun Store. It's only written on every billboard and riding on top of every taxi. Psycho killer? Want revenge? Missing 'something'?
--The Gun Store. Hell, it even says 'Try One'. How could I resist officer?
Grand Theft Auto ain't got jack on this place. In fact, I'm pretty sure you can raise a family in that game and my raised family would NOT be allowed to play "Real Life Las Vegas" the video game.
Well surely Vegas has things other than guns, right? You bet your ass.
Roulette. Roulette is pretty much crack-cocaine in L-Vega. Anyone who tells you about Blackjack, or slot machines, or Craps, or horse racing, or No-holds barred oragami contests is full of crap. There's only one game to really play-- and that's the Wicked Wheel.
As a winner and a real connoisseur of fine arts I picked up on this one right away. The sound of the ball, the spin of the wheel, and the names of the various Flyers gets intoxicating. It gets into the blood and it doesn't come out (trust me--I even tried Spray N Wash). I put $5 on Mike Knuble more times than I've laughed at Mitch Hedberg jokes (oh God, a regular banana later, Mitch! LoL). That's right-- the only way a roulette number works is if you can call it by it's Flyers Jersey wearing equivalent. Here's how the average roulette table conversation goes when me and Meghan step up to the plate.
Meg: $10 on Umberger!
Me: $5 half bet on Hextall and Kapanen
Casino: Place your bets, please.
Me: Dude, put that on Bobby Clarke for me!
Some Guy: Huh?
Meg: $5 on Jayson Werth!
Me: 16! YOU IDIOT PUT IT ON 16! Bobby Clarke!
Meg: NO! I'm moving my $5 to Corner-bet Jeff Carter and Mike Richards!
Casino: No more bets.
Me: NO! Just $5 more on Kent Manderville! NO! Knubs! KNUBBSS!!!
Meg: $5 more on Umbergs!
Casino: No more BETS..... [ ] ...32.
It's vicious and yes, Phillies and Eagles numbers slip in, but mostly for the hard Flyers numbers. And if I've learned one thing from constantly gambling it's just this.
---Don't ever forget Mike Knuble. Do not forget Knubs.
So celebrities, high-rise pricey nightclubs, and high-roller dudes w buxom bossomed beauties dangling off of each arm?
Feast your eyes on this rack.
Ok, so technically I don't think I saw even one celebrity. And technically I didn't see any true ballers with a hot blonde on each arm. And technically I only saw like 2 bouncers the whole time. But I did go to Club Ghost which is pretty fancy and oft times celebrity visited.
Yes, that's Meghan dangling 52ish stories above Las Vegas with nothing but reflective plexiglass saving her from a greusome demise. And you can't see it but this cool club had a section of floor made of that same plexiglass that you could stand on and see 52 stories straight down. Kinda cool-kinda don't wanna stand there and drink. Heights are gay. And I kept looking for Mike Richards (who was rumored to actually be in L Vega!) but I never found him. We'll meet one day and our hearts will melt together and we'll go drunk bowling together and laugh at comedy central comedians and get a labrador or some other big dog and name it Hexy (after Hextall) and we'll be best buds forever and ever.
In the meantime though, I totally flattered the girl in this picture. I can't even remember for sure but I got her drunk enough that night I totally got to second base those big bags of sand.
Moving on we realize there are no open container laws and every venue sells alcohol. What could possibly stop you now?!
This guy and about 40 others just like him (yes, all Mexicans in Girls Direct to You shirts look the same to me). They appear around every corner in L-Vega and oddly enough, want to hand you pornography. They want to hand you some kind of collector's edition card of some hot naked chick touching herself inappropriately with "Direct to you in 20 minutes!" on every card. Sells itself right? I hope so, because they can't talk.
They swarm in their over-sized shirts and flick their cards at you, reach out their arms, and make clicking and hissing noises to get your attention and get you to take a card. But no talking. Must be illegal or something. So instead of awkwardly ignoring these guys all up in your grill here are a few gems I employed under heavy inebriation.
--Nope, already got that one.
--Sorry dude, I'm Mormon.
--Nope--got that one, do you have any other--nope nope, sorry.
--Do you have this one in blonde?
--Is there a Guys Direct to You?
--If it's not there in 20 minutes is it free like Domino's?
--Sorry, my wife says that's cheating.
--Do you have boys?
--Is there a discount if I get like 5 girls at once?
--I'm blind. (look him in the eye)
--He said he's a better card-giver-outter than you. (then point)
--I'd love to dude--but my wife here might catch me. (jerk head)
--Does this one have any references?
Etc. The best part is they aren't allowed to say anything back to you at all. But that doesn't make it easy. You gotta be quick on your feet. They travel in packs of like 10. But boy oh boy was it annoying. All the hassle. All the jokes. All the drunk I was.
Man I miss those guys.
And that's pretty much L-Vega. Or all of it I'm legally able to tell you about. So I'll just leave you with one last picture. One I'm still scratching my head about. Among all the truly strange people, birds (that fear no man--they walk right up to you and have even been known to fly into a Meghan's head for no reason), and sights this was a true WTF for me.
Maybe some ancient Mer-horse or Horse-maid. Maybe early Atlantian gamblers used to race underwater horses. I don't know. Just--whatever.
Seriously Vegas-- like, WTF?