You know I had my inbox flooded with a shit-ton of hate mail this past week. Far be it for this degenerate blogger to take even ONE week off to go to Vegas under the guise of a business trip, bring along his two buddies and his Dad, and roam the desert in search of strippers and cocaine. I thought The Rook did an excellent job of covering me while I was shooting craps and losing my meager blogging salary at Caesar’s Palace.
Anyway, my first night in Vegas we hit it pretty hard, and I woke up in the morning having performed one of the most difficult moves in drunken-disrobing: The Sock Still Attached To Pants Dismount:
Anytime you hear someone say, “I’ve got a system…” You can rest-assured that you are about to see a fellow gambler lose a ton of money. My system was to bet against my beloved Buffalo Bills, who as of yesterday have managed to go 0-7 (slow clap commencing, gentlemen). So when they matched up again the Ravens, I thought for once I’d bet against them—this was my system; They’ve been killing me for so many years, it’s time these bastards starting earning me some cash. Wrong. They decided to play football, kept it close, and I was out $200.
I decided I’d bet only one other game, I won money on the Giants and the rest of the trip was spent in and out of casinos as well as asking strippers moral questions like “did you have a childhood” (side note: this is grounds for dismissal from said clubs). If you have a chance go to a place called “The Spearmint Rhino” I’d suggest you do. That den-of-depravity is one of the best in the world, and for a guy who doesn’t enjoy strip clubs (that’s someone’s daughter, man) I was able to get through it without feeling like a total scumbag.
All in all Vegas was a success, we did all the typical touristy crap—killing a hobo, $1 hot dog buffets, hitting on 60 year old burnt out blackjack dealers. My favorite part might have been getting the 7am breakfast at “Hash House” (featured on Man vs. Food). Chicken and waffles—delightful.
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