Heaven or Las Vegas

So we did have quite a splendid time in Vegas. The food options for vegetarians SUCKED - it was pure hell. We didn't find a good restaurant til the last day, but at least we found it. We will have that sussed out next time.

Flight there was ROUGH (with my fear of heights and flying) but manageable with the ganja, Xanax, ganja cookies, and pints of rum in the airport bar, not to mention The Smiths on the palm pilot. I almost snapped The Old Lady's femur when I grabbed her leg during turbulence. Flight back was easy cos I was passed out the whole way.

The Stratosphere was a decent enough place, but with paper-thin walls. At the far north end of the strip, we had the best views of the Vegas ghetto. The service started out good and got progressively worse. One of the most disgusting buffets I've ever picked at (is it too much to ask for real mashed potatoes?!). We won't stay there again.

After checking in, we went to the casino floor to get it started. There's a bar next to the elevators...perfect. Order beer for The Old Lady, Scotch for me (what they have against the Irish in this town I'll never know). Naturally there's video poker machines built into the bar, so I decide to gamble my first couple of bucks. 5th hand and I get the mother of all hands - the Royal Flush. $65, baby!! Curses for betting only one quarter!

The luck stuck: $100 bucks on one spin at a "The Price Is Right" slot; $90 at roulette playing our birthdays and anniversary numbers; $12 bucks just getting rid of a few quarters in my pocket. And so on. It was great cos everything we bought (tour shirts, photos, etc.) was paid for by winnings. Not bad for a kid on a farmboy's wages.

The Sisters of Mercy...they should be called The Sisters of Merch, cos they have the best shirts ever. Fucking great show, mix a little muddy, and I screamed like a bitch the whole show. Next day I could barely speak. They played a bunch of new stuff that sounded great alongside the old faves, and I met a bunch of people I can honestly call new friends (see you next month, Gus!). One even paid for our cab back (thanks Mike!)!

Best part was when the soundguy's girlfriend asked me to stop whistling cos it was too loud for her. After clarifying that was indeed what she was asking of me, I leaned in and let her fucking have it. "Let me tell you what the deal is: we have come all the way from the San Francisco bay area to see one of my favorite bands ever. A band I haven't seen in over 10 years. I paid for my tickets over 2 months ago..." She tried to cut me off with an "Okay, okay", hoping I would shut up - no fucking way, bitch. I said quite curtly, "I'm NOT done yet. (Her eyes get huge) Understand this: I have no desire to make you uncomfortable and I'm not whistling in your ear on purpose, but there is no way I am going to stop whistling for this band. I travelled a long way to be here and will be as excited as I want to be, as loudly as I want to be." She took off shortly thereafter. Fuck with the bull, get the horns - fuck with my good time, get a VERY bad time in return.

Cirque du Soleil's "Mystere" is so mind-boggling I cannae do it justice. VERY interactive with the audience and one hell of a stage. Needless to say, we want to see the other shows they have going up there, including the naked one. Got a really good pic of us in our seats, and they even served one of my fave drinks - strawberry Captain Morgan daquiris!

Wayne Newton is a pimp, pure and simple. He's lost a bit of the smoothness of his voice, but he can still belt 'em out and is one hell of an entertainer. Funny, great band, classic songs...it was the Vegas we craved. Got to meet him afterwards: dressed in a black robe, wearing posh cologne, mackin' on tha ladies. He hugged me, kissed The Old Lady, and we got a couple of good pics with him. We fell asleep that night smelling of Wayne Newton's cologne.

All in all, it was an exhausing trip. The buildings are so huge, everything looks much closer than it really is. All the walking and shite food made me miss home so much...I almost cried when we got back and I saw my kitties. I had missed them so much I dreamt about them almost every night. Isabella, true to form, acted hurt and abandoned for a minute, then attacked me with kisses a minute later. I don't do well without the kitties, so I need to win the lottery so I can be one of those rich twats who takes their cats on vacation.

Oh, and by the way: $15 to ride a rollercoaster one time is for crackheads and rich people. Pics soon.