Note: I wrote this Monday afternoon when I got back from my trip.
They finally allow liquor stores in Louisville to sell wine and spirits on Sunday. Before yesterday, they could only sell beer, which makes sense because God doesn't get angry when people get drunk on beer. I never understood the logic, but it's over now and it ended when I, a notorious Louisville drunkard, happened to be in town for the weekend. It was an eventful weekend, one for which my liver may never forgive me.
It's not often you hear someone in Louisville, KY say, "I'm looking forward to getting back to Las Vegas to relax," but I found myself saying that early Monday morning. Good times were had by all.
I, in an attempt to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy, visited a strip club Sunday night. It wasn't very crowded, but I did get to see a stripper fuck a hat. A young lady-of-the-pole ripped a baseball cap off a patron's head, placed it in the middle of the stage, and repeatedly did the splits, landing on top of the hat with great gusto. As a result of this cootchie haberdashery, the bill was retardo-cootered beyond recognition. If this guy's in a relationship I hope he knows how to lie, or it could be a bad scene:
"What happened to your favorite hat, dear?"
"Well, hon, a stripper fucked the shit out of it last night."
The diamond industry loves strip clubs and honest men.
One more thing about LaBamba's, the place where I ate after leaving the bar Saturday night. When I placed my order, a couple of the guys pointed at me and started speaking Spanish, and I distinctly heard "...el douchebag grande." Fuckers.
I didn't get my fix of mullet-wearing complete dirtball hilljacks while I was away. My friends have good taste and steered me away from most of the white trash element I so completely loathe/fear/enjoy. I should have gone to dirtball central, Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom. Ugh, anyone who just read the name of that place immediately disinfect your computer screen. Kentucky Kingdom is to the Six Flags chain what Stephen is to the Baldwin family. I was last there the summer before I moved away and I believe it was Inattentive Teenage Mother Day at the park. Also, any adult with five or less functioning teeth received free Cotton Candy and a gallon of sweet tea. I feel sorry for tourists traveling through the Midwest/South who see the Six Flags logo and think they're in for an experience like Magic Mountain in California or Great Adventure in New Jersey. Disappointing vacation experiences cause almost as much marital discord as strippers who fuck hats.
They finally allow liquor stores in Louisville to sell wine and spirits on Sunday. Before yesterday, they could only sell beer, which makes sense because God doesn't get angry when people get drunk on beer. I never understood the logic, but it's over now and it ended when I, a notorious Louisville drunkard, happened to be in town for the weekend. It was an eventful weekend, one for which my liver may never forgive me.
It's not often you hear someone in Louisville, KY say, "I'm looking forward to getting back to Las Vegas to relax," but I found myself saying that early Monday morning. Good times were had by all.
I, in an attempt to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy, visited a strip club Sunday night. It wasn't very crowded, but I did get to see a stripper fuck a hat. A young lady-of-the-pole ripped a baseball cap off a patron's head, placed it in the middle of the stage, and repeatedly did the splits, landing on top of the hat with great gusto. As a result of this cootchie haberdashery, the bill was retardo-cootered beyond recognition. If this guy's in a relationship I hope he knows how to lie, or it could be a bad scene:
"What happened to your favorite hat, dear?"
"Well, hon, a stripper fucked the shit out of it last night."
The diamond industry loves strip clubs and honest men.
One more thing about LaBamba's, the place where I ate after leaving the bar Saturday night. When I placed my order, a couple of the guys pointed at me and started speaking Spanish, and I distinctly heard "...el douchebag grande." Fuckers.
I didn't get my fix of mullet-wearing complete dirtball hilljacks while I was away. My friends have good taste and steered me away from most of the white trash element I so completely loathe/fear/enjoy. I should have gone to dirtball central, Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom. Ugh, anyone who just read the name of that place immediately disinfect your computer screen. Kentucky Kingdom is to the Six Flags chain what Stephen is to the Baldwin family. I was last there the summer before I moved away and I believe it was Inattentive Teenage Mother Day at the park. Also, any adult with five or less functioning teeth received free Cotton Candy and a gallon of sweet tea. I feel sorry for tourists traveling through the Midwest/South who see the Six Flags logo and think they're in for an experience like Magic Mountain in California or Great Adventure in New Jersey. Disappointing vacation experiences cause almost as much marital discord as strippers who fuck hats.
8 Comments:
Sounds like a very energetic stripper. The one and only time I visited a strip club, the "dancers" just sort of swayed. I was disappointed.
Forget cleaning my computer screen because of Kentucky Kingdom. I'm gonna need a shower to shake the vivid description of "cootchie haberdashery."
Don't you mean what Billy is to the Baldwin family?
You missed a perfectly good chance to use the word Peckermullet. I'm pissed.
Hurricane Harbor is the sweaty unwashed amusement park in Dallas. You go there once and if you aren't completely repulsed the government autmagically relocates you and your entire family to a trailer park in tornado alley.
I am thinking that I should lock up all my hats tonight in case they get any ideas.
lol
i choked on a peanut m&m reading yoru last paragraph
"Kentucky Kingdom is to the Six Flags chain what Stephen is to the Baldwin family."
I nearly spit out my lunch when I read this because I started laughing so hard. This little nugget needs to be preserved for future generations. I wish I could've joined ya down in Louisville. Sounds like a good time what with cooter hats and all.
Be my mister-ess!! You are one of two of the only bloggers that has ever made me laugh out loud. Seriously, you have to come to our party on the 27th of this month. Where do I send the evite?? Email me. claudiagoestoeurope@yahoo.com. Seriously.
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