Tonight I Will Be Having The Pudding

Fuck this bullshit














I just had a tooth pulled out of my face. I had another pulled almost a year ago in London. I walked back to the hotel at six in the morning spitting blood the entire way. It was not fun then, and it's no fun now. It hurts, and makes my face swell up. Last time I had planned on getting a gold fang in the big gap in my mouth. Maybe now I'll get two.














Tonight I will have the soup, pudding, and maybe some Vicodin and beer.

Someday I Will Leave This All Behind

Have A Wank

I spent this past weekend, in rememberance of MLK, in Las Vegas. I stand by my decision.


















I clean up real nice, honest.



















It was wicked cold, in the 30's for most of the weekend. This once lush fountain outside of The Aladdin was frozen solid.















I got really sick after being in town for a day. I spent most of the second day in bed. I stepped out early the next day to lose a bit of money on an Alien slot machine.














This was my first time in Vegas as a tourist. I am usually put off by all of the false extravagance and excessive indulgence, but for some reason I had a blast. I had the opportunity to marvel at some of the casinos. The MGM grand has caged lions in the lobby. The Venetian has canals and gondolas. The Bellagio has a Japanese tea garden. The Mandalay Bay has live sharks, and Circus Circus has a damn circus.















For my money it doesn't get any better than when the trapeze artist lost her hair extensions. As if the setting wasn't quite tacky enough, there was just this little, lifeless pile of hair resting on the stage as well.















For the initiated, the Circus Circus was the venue in Fear and Loathing Las Vegas that was least likely to forcibly remove a drunken and drug addled patron. In the film, this is the bar where Hunter Thompson's attorney, Oscar Zeta Acosta, took too much Mescaline and couldn't work out how to get off of the merry-go-round bar. Hunter Thompson's suggestion, I believe, was 'quick, like a bunny.'


















Pickle...
























I left Las Vegas a few hundred dollars poorer, a good deal sicker, but a better man because of it all, I think. That all makes very little sense, I know, but just trust me.