Las Vegas: Basically Just Novelty Drinks

Let's start this off right, Vegas-style, with a picture of a bakery in the airport.


What is more Vegas than Breadz?

Next is the second picture of a 24-hour bar that I've taken in the past month. Do you know what that means? Good month.


Next would be a couple dozen pictures of the inside of the casino we stayed at, including but not limited to the Dealertainers® (celebrity look-alikes who perform and also deal blackjack), but it's Vegas and they don't like cameras. So pictures of novelty drinks must suffice.

How this for suffice? 40 ounces of daiquiri in a plastic guitar. In the mall bathroom, natch.


Then disperse with the novelty drinks for the real drinks. Why? Cuz we're getting ready to go to the club, that's why.


(Aside: when you find a Sedaris book in the hotel bathroom, you know your friend is white.)


Hey, are you guys going to the club? Yes? Thought so.


What are you dudes doing? Oh.


What happens twelve hours later? Your body reminds you that you are a jackass.


But whatever there is still time to go to Fremont Street and eat fried Oreos.


In Fremont Street, you may remember, there is an experience that people take pictures of for some reason.


Other people buy Oakland Raider earrings and sparkly hats.


Oh, and some of the hats have lights in them.

Like this one the Chad is wearing. It is a USA hat.


Finally, we went to the El Cortez, which is noteworthy because it rules.


Then we came home to find that Junes had stocked our joint with Canadian chocolates


and New Glarus. Both of which are delicious.


Then we slept for 17 hours.

At RockHouse®, the Rock-themed/Beer Pong fake club attached to our hotel, Hamouda wore a singlet/jumper/onesie and drank a blue daiquiri. What did this result in?

You guessed correctly. It resulted in being accosted by a blacked-out, middle-aged tourist.

DEFFOVERSARY PHLOGIVERSARY CLIP PHLOG OMG PLUS CONSUMER WATCH 2000 PLUS BEST GIFT EVER

On this day one year ago, we experienced the DC judicial system from within, which somehow prompted me to begin phlogging. A year later, and how far we've come! I've phlogged about things 147 times. That's once every two and a half days!

Mostly it has had to do with cats, but also other things sometimes.

What do I have for you lo on this wondrous phlogiversary? A quick look into the nefarious innerworkings of corporate America!

See, a couple weeks ago I needed a suit, so I went to Bloomingdale's. Natch. They had a sale. Bernard (my fashion consultant) hooked it up

(Ana is her own fashion consultant) and even persuaded me to open up a Bloomingdale's account.


Not only an insider, people. PREMIER INSIDER. I saved $47.

I'm pretty sure the only other store credit card I've ever had was for Structure, which I opened with the purchase of a pair of cargo pants and never paid.

But anyway. I received my card in the mail last week, but it wasn't accompanied by a bill or a billing address, or my balance. So I went online to pay it off today (I'm pretty sure the APR is somewhere around 47%), and after a thorough search of "Bloomies" (premier insider jargon) online, I realized that it is impossible to pay one's Bloomingdale card balance on the internet.

I then called customer service, which told me that I could pay my balance at any Bloomingdale's store. That seemed like a hassle, so I asked if I could pay over the phone. Sure, they said, but it's going to require a $10 processing fee. Those damned corporations! Geniuses! I paid the $10.

Thus concludes my consumer lesson for 2008.

BONUSBONUSBONUS I forgot to include a picture of Ana's secret santa gift from Abe a couple weeks ago, so here it is: The Best Present Ever:

Now, I know you can't read it, so here's the transcription:

ANYONE FUCKS WITH ANA
GETS HACKED UP AND SEALED
IN A 55 GALLON DRUM

I particularly like the specific nature of the threat.

Another Year Older and More Stuff, Plus+++!!!

Hey, Gang! I'm 30! The big 3-0! Over the hill! The new 20! For the festivities, all I asked for was what every red-blooded 30-year old would want: ice cream cake, candy, stuffed animals, t-shirts, DVDs, comic books and sneakers. Guess what? Mofos came through.

First, Noms got her friend who owns a Baskin-Robbins (we know people) to make an ice cream cake with a picture of me eating a frozen banana on it.


It was delicious.

Corrie and Jordan got me candy. M&Ms make dark chocolate peanut candy now. Game over.


Next, Wendy and Mikey got me a stuffed wildcat, which is the product of an extended inside joke that is much too bad to be shared here. Luckily, the stuffed wildcat can talk, which is just awesome enough to share here:

Joe got me T-Shirts from the show that he attended before the party; they're pretty awesome, but not nearly as awesome as the gift he gave me the next day.

Naomi got me this one:

Greg and Kyle gave me this picture:

Brian, who came as Michael's emissary (for some reason he couldn't make it--something about being "stranded" in "Japan"), gave me a "Lady Catchin' Sac." This means that he doesn't like Ana. Don't tell.

First part of the Lady Catchin' Sac is a DVD wherein Lyn teaches me some magic tricks:

Next is some sounds of puppies, kittens and more, with which to melt the hearts of the ladies:

And finally, fireside reflections with which to bed the ladies. I haven't tried the system yet, but I'm pretty sure it's failproof.

Other Brian gave me what looks to be the best family-friendly DVD of all time, starring Rupert Grant of Harry Potter fame:

That's right! It's about a youngster who can't stop farting and goes into space!


Kyle gave me fancy comic books. Perfect for eating candy with.



Joe got me some Atlanta-themed sneakers, which he thought I'd be interested in for some reason. Look! Atlanta likes sports cars!


Finally, Murph got me Windows XP so I could use my new phone. I decided, however, that it would be cooler to just wipe out my entire hard drive instead. How am I supposed to understand these directions?

I'm not, I say.

So I call Murph and tell him that compruter no work, and he proceeds to roll by and spend the next ten hours typing in "commands" into "interfaces" that in the end allow him to find most of the stuff that I erased. Thank God: a year's worth of pictures of my drunk friends have not been lost to the ether.


That, and then later Jesus gave me birthday snow!


BONUSBONUSBONUS

PJ's absentee owner requests an update.

Update: PJ still running the shit:


Look! Video proof that PJ is alive!