- For those with an aversion to evacuating their bowels in the in the woods, I present you the shit box.
- I like it when my pay-per-view smut is uncomplicated. This digital cable menu reminds me of my trip to Vegas when Wil and EZ were going through the Spank Vision listings. We stopped giggling like middle school girls huffing ether when we landed the she-male feature With or Without.
- It has to be tough living in Alex P. Keaton’s shadow and all, but damn Andy, settle the fuck down. I long for the day when my friend working in the Boulder County DOC splits Andy Keaton’s skull with a nightstick for getting “mouthy” in lock up.
After running down an errant couch on I-25 with the Ghost of War, the wife and I decided the time was nigh to purchase a new automobile. We first called our credit union to get pre-approved for a loan and were pleased to learn they offered their customers a free auto broker service. This was exactly what I wanted to hear as car salesman rank in character somewhere between necrophiliacs and Rent-A-Center employees to me. The wife and I were referred to a genial gentleman named Gordon. He called to inform of us of an auto inventory showcase they were having the next day and invited us to come down and test drive whatever he had. So we did. He introduced himself and then became scarce and the wife and I spent the rest of the morning speeding new and used whips around the hills near Morrison, Colorado. We fell in love with the 2008 Toyota RAV4, both for the V6 engine and the stellar Consumer Reports ratings (thanks EZ). After discussing the features we were looking for in an automobile with Gordon, he informed us that he would scour the Denver metro area for what we wanted. The next day he called to inform us that he procured a 2008 flint-colored, moonroofed Toyota RAV4 and that he was driving it up to the crib to let us take it for a spin. We loved the damn thing (of course) and two days and fifteen minutes of paperwork later, the wife and I had us a new ride.
I made my final voyage in the Ghost of War yesterday (a youngster in Castle Rock bought her for $500) first to Santiagos for a sack of breakfast burritos and then to the office. She was a steady machine that gave me scant trouble in ten years of hard driving (I work a clutch like a Mexican field hand works a burro). Godspeed, Ghost of War. May all your future rides be down the smoothest of couch-free roads.
Saturday saw the send off for my buddy Wil who is walking the Earth for the next six months to a year. He will return home whenever his money or his transsexual hooker sugar daddy connections dry up (literally). We procured a limo for his last evening in the city and took a dive bar tour of Denver in style. Some highlights:
- The limo was compliments of one of my work clients who hooked us up with an amazing deal. He gave us a two week old Mercedes Benz limo for the night and stocked it with complimentary beer, gin, whiskey and champagne. The whip was so new that the stereo could only play CDs as the sound system was like the Death Star in Return Of The Jedi and not yet fully operational. We only brought one CD between the seven of us. Said CD was a shitty local techno band and ended up being fired from the limo window by night’s end.
- At My Brother’s Bar, they have bacon listed as a menu item.
- Number of individuals in our group that ordered bacon: 2.
- Number of individuals that asked the waitress to “Look away” as he attempted to pick up and eat a strip of bacon that fell of the floor: 1.
- The Hilltop, my favorite college-era haunt, did not fail to disappoint (except for the omission of “Ballad Of The Green Berets” from the jukebox which was the traditional way to close all drinking benders back in the day). While walking into the bar a guy came out yelling “Who needs some blow? Some meth? Some X?” While sitting at the bar some troll-looking kid was attempting to start a fight with the a gentleman three times his size. The bartender encouraged smoking after asking if we were cops and than proceeded to light up and “fuck the anti-smoking laws.”
- Changing the name of a strip club from Cheerleaders to The Player’s Club does not make your joint instantly classier. You still have to wash the vomit and sweaty ass from the carpet.
- Number of individuals in our group that had their wife pick them up from The Player’s Club: 1.
- Number of individuals in our group that lost an electronic device sometime during the night: 2.
- Number of individuals in our group that were called by the limo company with the whereabouts of their lost electronic device: 1.
Be sure to rubber up in the jungle, Wil. Once you establish your white warlord presence in Belize, we will be down to slaughter cattle with machetes in front of the locals as a lesson not to cross you. In short, be safe and enjoy your adventures.
- Friends Made: Ming the Hooters Casino High Roller who bet $1000 a hand at Pai Gow.
- Enemies Made: a black stripper from the Spearmint Rhino and a fat pit boss named Bill.
- Best Quote From Dave: “Right now I have more alcohol in me than sense.”
- Best Quote From Erik: “When I see you again I will buy you $100 in bourbon.”
- Seen In Abundance: Wisconsin fans, hooker trading cards and fake boobs.
- Seen In Scarcity: Street sweepers, museums and my judgment.
- New Coined Marketing Slogan To Be Sold To The Las Vegas Chamber Of Commerce: Welcome to the Sex Ashtray.
- Gambling Maxims Proven Correct: Never hit on 13, respect the sixes and a “push” is a win.
- Gambling Maxims Proven Wrong: No craps game goes seven straight rolls without making the point.
- Best Casino Game: Pai Gow, which is Chinese for Slow Money Bleed Super Happy Fun Drink Time.
- Worst Casino Game: Money Drop, or as it is more popularly known “Let It Ride.”
- Best Run: Six and a half hours at a Pai Gow table on $40 that yielded countless free drinks, death threats from dealers named Gene, screams of free Hooters calendars and chicken wings, continual verbal assaults directed towards a fat pit boss named Bill and eventually, free Hooters T-shirts and shot glasses that Ming the Hooters Casino High Roller charged to his room.
- Worst Run: Ten minutes at a craps table that took $100.
- Best Eats: Steaks at Mon Ami Gabi and Bailey’s ice cream shakes.
- Worst Eats: My bag of Fritos and pack of Starbursts for dinner and Will’s infamous “last breakfast” from Nathan’s which consisted of a chili dog, a handful of soggy crinkle fries and twelve over-cooked chicken wings.
- Best Sports Bet: Wil for putting it on UNLV to cover the spread versus Wisconsin.
- Worst Sports Bet: Me for putting $20 on the Colorado Avalanche to win the 2008 Stanley Cup.
- Years On My Life That The Trip Took Off : Two.
The boys from work got together last night for a low stakes game of Texas Hold ‘Em. I made out with the big stack, B-Dawg turned a tidy profit, Neal got lucky on the last hand that made his night respectable and I knocked Jake out of the game with a monster full boat (aces and sixes) to his strong two pair (kings and aces). EZ delivered the big funny of the evening after I turned him out like an abusive pimp than began to verbally humiliate him he shot back with, “I think you were circumsized to high.” He is lucky I do not have a god complex at the card table like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas otherwise I would have ended the night digging a hole somewhere in a vacant lot between Denver and Boulder.