Like Christmas in Dubai (it rhymes with July)

HAIL!! The God of thunder summons you - Christmas spirit - for I am in dire need of thee and thou caroling ways. Allowing myself another yuletide experience overseas proved to be even stranger this time around. Me and sidekick Tommy jumped on the opportunity to stay two nights at the fabulous Fitzgerald, Las Vegas, for the measly sum of 60 bucks. After a quick 5 hours on the I-15 north we entered the sound of raining nickles as we passed through the lobby. No time to waste. To the pool! Armed with stiff nipples we soaked for a good 2 minutes in the outdoor jacuzzi proclaiming joyously that we were in fact there. An obvious but necessary quote when you've traveled many miles.

Gambling life is not for everyone. After numerous slot machine attempts at supreme moneyness we found ourselves at the roulette table clueless. Luckily the dealer Michelle provided useful information for ways to lose money. We bet on the twenties and double zeros and actually won what we payed for our stay. YAY! The winnings were later lost as we boldly bet on craps, game of no chance and dice. The outside being as chilly as a Siberian Husky after an unsuccessful mating season demanded hefty woolen sweaters and fake glasses. The Fitz was located on the old Vegas strip, the one you know from Honey I Blew Up The Kid.

This is seriously the biggest picture I could find on the web.

The casinos around old town were all inside our price range, but we wanted a gander at what we can never have and decided to taxi it to where mortgages are lost in the flip of a card. Las Vegas Boulevard was crammed with the different mogul boners, their neon venereal diseases gashed the flat landscape. The oohs and aahs were many. We decided to stuff our guts before strutting further down the road. Fear and Loathing is too good of a movie not to emulate so we chose Circus Circus as our first Vegan meal (NOT vegan). Amazingly enough all the food at the buffet had the same taste. Ass! (I dare ya to follow that link).

Being not loaded I definitely felt like a trout out of water in the humongous lounges of the upscale hots pots. The Encore, The Wynn, The Venetian, The Whatchamacalit were all awe inspiring and we knew better than to throw our money away at the high stakes. Maybe we should have stayed at those hotels if it would have kept us from gambling at all.

Getting to and fro was actually where the main dollar was dropped. We were literally and not literally taken for a ride almost every time. Smut peddling cabbies all wanted us to visit their favorite titty bars. Excerpt of dialogue:

Driver: WHERE YOU GUYS FROM? YOU WANT SOME PUSSY?

Us: Uh, not right now. We're going to the Double Down inside the Fruit Loop.

Driver: BUT THAT'S A GAY PLACE?

Us: Not this bar. It's just located there.

Driver: WHAT YOU GUYS STUDY?

Tommy: Architecture.

Driver: OH REALLY!? DO YOU KNOW IF SOMEONE CAN SUE IF SOMEONE SAY FUCK YOU??

Us: I dunno.

We quickly learned to stay away from the checkered cabs as they came with a 90 to 1 possibility of containing an asshole. Apparently the taxi drivers get money from the strip joints for putting vagina in the tourists way, we saw several of them signing clipboards at stripper bar entrances. Maybe they were alimony checks for the scantily clad employees.

The Double Down Saloon was packed with punk kids and the house band was taking Judas Priest and Mötorhead requests, we downed PBRs to soften the ruckus. Many White Russians and Armenian cabdrivers later we collapsed at 5am.

To shorten this midgardsworm of a blog post the rest will be told in key word form. Morning after 3pm, Denver omelet, more sleep, meet Revel and girlfriend with sister, MGM Grand too pricey, back at Fitz, play craps again, less money, vertigo, blackjack, a woman shouts "Come on golden dragon" to a slot machine and proceeds to win a thousand bucks, short term jealousy, vodka sodas, Christmas dinner at McDonalds, Bukowskiesque feelings of manliness followed by Sartresque feelings of patheticness, amazing funk band playing wedding at the Plaza Hotel, giving the golden dragon machine a try, no golden dragons in this one, vodka soda, increased vertigo, sleepy time, morning after, driving, Peggy Sue's 50s Diner, home, sleep for 13 hours.

END OF XMAS!!! SANTA DOES NOT EXIST!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS!! RANDOM SHOUTOUT!!!
Hope you all got hard presents and lobster dinners, he said in an acidic voice. Dammit, I forgot to mention snowy deserts and will post someone else's picture of it: