Lordy loo, where does the time go? And for that matter, does anybody *really* know what time it is?
I'm back from my vacation, as you may have surmised, and feeling quite well, thank you very much. My pile of fires that awaited me was actually much smaller than usual, thanks be to God, and I'm pretty much all caught up on stuff, which makes me happy. Happy happy happy. But enough of that, lets get on with the Las Vegas Study Group Commission report.
Well, what's there to say. I mean, sin citee baby! And we all know what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, plus there's the matter of that open investigation which I'm not allowed to talk about, but I can talk, with no fear of retribution, in generalities. Right.
First off, lets talk about the cocktail waitresses, namely Roxy. Hoofa. Nuff said. Then of course there were the two "devil" shooter girls, dressed in skin tight red leather "Devil" "outfits" who walked around with holsters containing some sort of alcohol which they dispensed shots of, to the sad-sack drunken sots who were donating their mortgage money to the casino. Really, quite honestly, I found that to be on one hand the most despicable act of taking advantage of people, and on the other hand the most brilliant method of generating profits that one can think of. As I don't drink, nor do I have a mortgage to lose, they didn't affect me at all, other than making my brain melt down as I leered at them every time they sauntered past me. Crikey.
Meanwhile the casinos themselves I found to be smelly (a nice mix of heinous cigarette smoke, stale alcohol and various body odours) and downright depressing. Lots of unkempt poorly dressed middle aged loosers wandering around or staring vapidly at slot machines while they whap the "donate max bet" button over and over and over. If it wasn't for the half nekkid cocktail waitresses I don't think I could spend more than 15 minutes in a casino without the urge to hang myself. Repeatedly.
The hotels though, were quite another thing. I'm not easily impressed but I was quite amazed by several of the hotels, like Caesars Palace, and MGM and New York New York. I can't imagine the zillions of dollars it took to build those. Amazing.
We partook in a couple comedy shows, seeing three guys (can't remember their names though they were quite funny) at the Tropicana, then we saw The Amazing Jonathan at the Sahara, who was right hiliarious. Silly. Funny in a very silly way, but gut bustingly funny all the same. We got front row seats for that one (despite my pleading to be put in the back) but it worked out fine as we took very little abuse. Anyways, he's worth the ticket price twice over. We also went down to Fremont Street which was cool. Lots of street performers and bands and stuff. That's a must see if'n you ever go there.
Then we rented a FORD Mini Van (crapy crapola - NO LEG ROOM - even for a midget like me) with this cool GPS gizmo in it and took off for the desert. We saw some really cool parks, like Red Rocks and The Valley of Fire, plus some old ghost towns and body-drops for the mob etc etc. Truth be told I enjoyed the desert more than the vaunted strip. I felt a real connection with the old time cowboys of the past.
Shew. Okay, blah blah blah, I've typed enough for now.
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