Vegas Recap Part 2

(Elle..glad you're better...I think I'll have a 'shot' to celebrate that ;)

Vegas in July (as I have whined before) in one hot motherfucker. Geez....hot in the desert in July, who woulda possibly guessed? The day we arrived, Friday, was 104 and not much wind. Saturday was a whole fucking different story. You know what it's like when you stand in front of a dryer vent..well multiply that by, oh I don't know, maybe a fuckin million. The temp was 108 and there was a 25-30 mph wind. You'd walk under those 'mist sprayer' things, which normally I find very fucking annoying, only to quickly figure out that in that temp and with the wind, they don't do a fuckin thing. No shit, you can't even feel the water as it evaporates as soon as it touches your skin. I found that very fucking annoying as well.

Friday night, after being up since 5:30 AM and with the fact I was now in a two-hour time zone difference, by 9:00 PM, I was fuckin whipped. But...I was meeting my cousins who were coming in from Dallas and their plane didn't get in until 11:00 which meant it would be midnight before they got to the hotel. But, I toughed it out, actually toughed it out until 4:30 AM and got up at 8:00.

Saturday, as I said, up at 8:00 and needing coffee, badly. No fuckin coffee maker in the room, no fuckin refrigerator either. These greedy fucks want you out of the room as quickly as possible (with the hope you go into the casino which it pretty much a fuckin given since you can't go anywhere unless you walk through the fucking thing 1st). I'm not good in the morning until I have coffee and I don't 'chit-chat' at all. Just leave me the fuck alone until I'm caffeined-up. I go to the elevator where's theres another guy waiting, wearing a fuckin Boston Red Sox cap and jersey. WTF???? Get off at the wrong exit on the way to a Sox game? Yeah buddy, I get it...

I try to stay in the background because I know this asshat is going to want to talk. Sadly, I am correct.

Asshat: How ya doin'? (in that obnoxious fucking accent). I just got here. I'm from Bahston (No shit..really..c'mon, you're really from Boston?..I had no fucking idea..wow..I woulda never guessed!)

Me: Uhnh (grunt-speak for hello)

Asshat: Ufrum?

Me: (FUCK...NO FUCKIN DOUBT...here it comes....if I hadn't been so fuckin groggy I woulda lied)......St. Louis

Asshat: St. Louis?? No kidding? We beat you in the '04 World Series. Man..was that great! Do you know how long it had been since we won the WS?

Me: 86 years.

Asshat: THATS RIGHT. Damn, you must hate me..HAHAHAHA (Yes, I fuckin hate you but not for the reason you're thinking)

*****DING*****

Finally that fuckin elevator door opens, he heads right for it. I turn and go back to the hall to wait for another. If I had to ride down with that fuck, I swear, I woulda killed him.

After coffee and a chocolate-drizzled crossiant ($8.00...yeah, good deals abound in Vegas), it was pool time. I did mention it was hot......well, 'hot' does have its perks. It's a big pool, 3 pools actually...and the population of 'hooker-wannabes' was astounding. Ya know, chicks that wear their CFM's (uh.....Come Fuck Me shoes) TO THE POOL but carry their flip-flops in their 'Nancy Gonzalez' beach bag. Gimme a fuckin break. They do walk on the pool's far side (so they don't slip and bust their collective asses) where they choose their prime tanning locations but it's also the furthest spot from the actual pool...and you know it's because since they'll have to walk further, they'll be watched for a greater amount of time. While I admit some of them were very 'doable' with big boobs and all, I kept going back to the whole intelligence thing. Man, am I fucked up.... I didn't watch long because evidently it was MY responsibility to bring my own fucking sunscreen because the only thing available to me was 'Banana Boat Dark Tanning Oil' which wouldn't offer any protection from a fucking lightbulb at 1000 feet.

Speaking of hookers...what a major fucking disappoint. When I was last here, you couldn't swing a dead cat and not hit a hooker...today, you can't tell who's a hooker and who isn't. Seriously, back in the day, hookers looked the part, all dressed up, short skirts, just the right amount of make-up, semi-exposed boobs, CFM's, the whole deal. Now, 75% of the girls look like this. What the fuck? I mean do ya just walk up and say "Uh..excuse me, are you a hooker? What a fuckin letdown. You don't even see the 'economy' hookers on the street and thats because the streets are so fuckin packed with people they'd be shoved off their corner and into the traffic.

One thing Vegas does have along the strip is about 2000 illegals handing out 'business cards' with phone numbers of 'Girls Direct To You!' Yeah, thats what I would want, hookers that come with the recommendation of a very sweaty 'Emilio'.

I used to gamble some.........well, actually a little more than 'some'...okay, fuck it, I used to gamble like the proverbial drunken sailor, you name it; cards, dice, football, baseball, fuck, I'd bet on practically anything.....except fuckin basketball. But, I mean I am in LasFuckinVegas and there is some gambling influence around here so, I figured, time to show these mfer's a thing or two. I have a rule (well, used too), only play if the dealer is American because you'll get caught in some 'Soreee..no unstan yu'' bullshit if they aren't, and that can cost you $$. That rules out the fuckin window because 99% of the casino gaming employee's are fucking Oriental and they either can't speak English worth a fuck or they pretend they can't.....either way, you're fucked.

I find a blackjack table with the most American-looking Oriental girl I can find. I always try to sit just to the right of the dealer because 80% of the fucks you play with at the same table don't know a fuckin thing about the game except if they get 21, they win. These fuckers can cost you a ton of money because they take cards when they shouldn't or don't when they should. Anyway, I couldn't get my preferred seat at this table but I could tell the 2 guys playing knew their shit. I sit in, within 20 minutes, I'm up close to $300. We're kicking Tokyo Rose's ass. Now, we're all doin' the 'head nod' thing to each other whenever one of us really plays the shit out of our hands....we're 'big time' and cool ya know ;) Another 20 minutes goes by.....now up almost $700, we can't fucking lose and we're all betting like it. THEN, a fucking intruder shows up. Worse yet, he introduces himself to us..do we really look like we give a flying fuck? We've been playing for almost an hour and haven't said a fuckin word to each other and now we're forced to become buddies with this JO....oh well, hopefully he 'can play'. So much for fucking hope..this motherfucker, oh..yeah, 'Dan from Wisconsin'....can't play for shit. He has no fucking clue...even the dealer asks him once "Are you sure?" I mean if the fucking dealer asks you that don't you think maybe, just fucking maybe, that whatever it is that you're contemplating is just fucking WRONG???? After one of the hands he fucked up (one of many) which also caused us to lose, one of the the other players looks at 'Dan from Wisconsin' and says "You ever played this game before?" to which 'Dan' replies, "I can't help if I get bad cards" to which I reply "You've cost me personally over $400 in the short time you've been here, can you 'learn' at another table?" The dealer is not saying a word because she thinks he's a dumbfuck too. 'Dan' gets his feelings hurt and leaves but its too fucking late. We all get shit cards for the next 10-15 hands. It's all I can do to break even. Then I have a thought............what if 'Dan from Wisconsin' was really 'Silvio from the Casino' sent in to break the streak we were all on? Nah.....this is Vegas, they wouldn't do that.