As
ScarShoulders mentioned in previous posts the Vegas adventure was quite jackal indeed. I am not sure I have any mental capacity left to compose logical thought, but I will do my best to recap the awesomeness that ensued as best as a broken jackal can.
Got awesome on the plane with Mrs. BD2 to expedite travel time
Arrived at Mirage, words cannot describe how much the urge to get awesome permeates this place.
Checked in and immediately consume Buffalo chicken sandwich and multiple fat tires at BB Kings restaurant
Ventured out to find a liquor store
Purchase 12 cans of Busch and small bottle of Smirnoff for $45 (Vegas is expensive as fuck)
Empty contents into sink and add ice for pregaming
eventually became known as trashcan beers because we moved to hotel room trashcan when we realized sinks are sometimes needed for things like brushing teeth and/or washing hands.
Back to BB Kings for more food and fat tires and John Lee Hooker (Jr.) I think the real JLH is dead now...
When SS and Mrs. SS finally arrived after consuming some trashcan beers we headed down the the club in our casino. We did our best rubes impression by waiting in line at GAF club at JET. Wives get into club way before us and proceed to get awesome sans jackals. Pretty jackal for them, not so much for us. Luckily drinking in the open is not only legal but encouraged everywhere in the city limits. Crisis evaded. If it weren't for the half naked go-go dancers the bar would have sucked royally. Clubs are for scrimps...
Next morning sat at the pool and let our faces melt off. Then began freaking out the squares Secret Garden exhibit by saying that dolphins suck and that we bet they are happier here in little shitty cages rather than the ocean. Then SS yelled in front of a large group waiting in line that they show the lions eating baby goats....so awesome
Did our best Tony Soprano impression by dropping 3-large on gigantic steaks for SS's bday dinner
Later that night went to Cirque de Soleil which in my case involved watching ninjas and fireworks unless you are SS and you had to watch ballet to Yellow Submarine at the Beatles Love show.
Followed by a visit to Rhumbar which was an outdoor club with heaters and watched some jackal get down to jungle beats clearly not giving a fuck about anyone around him. Quite impressive.
SS gambled until 6am as he mentioned, I pulled a Droppa Duece and was nowhere to be found. My bad SS, won't happen next time.
Next day was sort of a blur because we started drinking at 10am when football started. Went to a sick sports bar called Lagasse's Stadium which is apparently owned by Emeril (yeah the lame BAM guy.) Explains why the 5 lb nachos with pulled pork were so tasty. This place was unreal. Gigantic TV screens and couches and beers and bloody Mary's...ooooh the Bloody mary's were so awesome. (Redskins sucked a fatty....shocker.)
Gambled, gambled and gambled. Free drinks and I think SS actually used real money. I on the other hand never broke the $50 mark. (puusssaaaayyy)
Enjoyed another BB King dinner which involved insanely tasty Bayou gumbo and more Fat tires. The ladies had mixed drinks with 151, which enabled much more awesome getting on our part.
Then we headed over the Beatles Revolution bar and tripping out in the lounge with Austin Powers chick look alike servers and nothing but Beatles jams. Pretty sweet, but SS was craving more beats, rhymes and life...
So we traversed the state of Nevada trying to get to the Wynn hotel literally a long as fuck walk, including crossing fences, parking garages and multiple casinos only to be too drunk to get into the club
return to Rhumbar as the top off to the evening rocked some stogies and Guinness and called it a night because awesomeness had been gotten....and it was good.
There is so much more to be told. Maybe when I actually get some semblance of mental capacity back I will try to do a better job at telling the tale of when SS and BD2 rocked the fuck out of Vegas, but I guess there is that whole "happens in Vegas" BS slogan so maybe not.
