Wednesday, August 31, 2005
"Vegas" Things I've Done
Everyone who reads this blog knows that my utter lack of style, flair, and sophistication is enough to make Frank Sinatra spin in his hipster grave; and my absence of "game" threatens to take the Sin out of Sin City. I'm just not that "Vegas", but I have pretended to be a few times. Here's a rundown of "Vegas" things I've done.

While talking to a tourist, I pretended to also be a tourist. I met a girl from St. Louis, who when I told her I was from Louisville thought "Louisville" was a slang term for St. Louis. She was genuinely impressed when I showed her my Honorary Kentucky Colonel I.D. card and believed me when I told her it afforded me a twenty percent discount at KFC's across the country.

"You mean you go in a KFC and flash that card and they take off..."

"Twenty percent, yeah," I said. "I'm also allowed to boss the employees around."

"No! Really?"

"Yeah, they completely have to do my bidding," I told her as my co-workers suppressed laughter.

She turned to my then co-workers Dan and Megan. "Do you guys have these cards?"

I didn't know if they'd be able to keep a straight face, so I answered for them. "No, they're not from Kentucky. They're from California."

"How do you know them?" Ms. Inquisitive asked.

"I met them last night at Studio 54."

Just then our friend Tracey arrived. I stood up to greet her and she hugged me, 'cause Tracey was a hugger.

"How do you know her?" the tourist asked.

"I met her last night, too."

The tourist then looked right at me and asked in all seriousness, "Are you a man-whore?"

That put an abrupt end to the holding in of laughter on the part of my friends. I was too busy contemplating the apparently woeful state of man-whoredness in Missouri, but I laughed later.

I visited an afterhours club. In Louisville the bars close at 4am. You leave, go to White Castle or Steak-n-Shake and go home. In Vegas, they have clubs that don't even open until most decent sorts are in bed. I went to a place called Drai's that won't even let anyone in until midnight, and if you go that early you'll be alone. We got there at 3am and the place was packed with cocktail waitresses, showgirls, strippers and others who work late. This was their evening. There were a lot of beautiful people there, but this being Vegas I knew I could count on at least one group of sleazy old guys with Mr. T gold around their necks and matching white shoes and belts to make me feel like a nightlife superstar.

I knowingly complained about a tourist to a disgruntled local. I was at a bar on the Strip and a woman was yelling at the bartender about the $4 she was just charged for a Coke. Yeah, that sucks but if you don't want it don't pay for it. Leave it on the counter.
When the angry lady reluctantly paid and stormed off, I took her place directly in front of the bar, shook my head, and said simply "Tourists." The bartender comped my Makers and Coke.

I felt up a married woman at a Pearl Jam concert. In front of her husband. At his insistence. My roommate's boss at the time was married to a stripper and they went with us to see Pearl Jam at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. The couple had a few drinks and before I could say "How much for a lap dance?" the off-duty stripper was freelancing and had her shirt off. Her fake boobs were cartoonishly big for her frame, but it was quality work. Her doctor was the Rembrandt of saline. Before Eddie Vedder could finish emoting his next emotion, she was grinding her hot little ass into my crotch. I was horrified and prepared to defend myself against an anticipated onslaught from her hubbie, but he smiled, gave me the thumbs-up sign, and then TOOK MY HANDS AND PLACED THEM ON HIS WIFE'S MAMMOTH TITTIES. Yeah, it creeped me out for a second, but I was raised Southern and it would have been rude to reject such hospitality. While she dry-humped me I felt her up like my life depended on it. It was then that I felt the piercing stares of the people in the row behind me. I turned to them and yelled, "I don't even know her name," never for a second releasing the stripper's funbags from my gentle grasp. They seemed understandably shocked and outraged, so I said, "And that's her husband." It's a miracle security didn't toss us out.

I've spent the last two Thanksgivings with the aforementioned couple. My ex-roommate is my brother's best friend and he always invites his boss and the stripper over for Thanksgiving dinner at my brother's house. It's funny because my very proper sister-in-law can't stand them, but she ends up fixing them a feast. They are actually very nice people. The stripper is a funny, intelligent person when she isn't at her place of employment or a rock concert.


Blogger Melliferous Pants said...

You are a fried chicken man-whore.

Blogger Harley Quinn said...

I'm gonna build on m-pants's comment....

You're a Fried Chicken, Mammoth Titty-Grabbin, Man-Whore.

Blogger Blonde said...

Love it, you man whore!

You can feel up my mammoth titties when I am in vegas too.

Blogger katarina said...

Sounds like a whole lot of fun. I'd never leave Vegas.
You can find those Mr T. guys any place. Somehow they reproduce.
If we would get married, would I get your KFC discount? :)

Blogger JJ said...

Your problem isn't that you don't have game, Todd. You have the wrong job. You need to be a bartender or a, yeah, man whore, so you can live that after hours life. Right now, baby, you're stuck in touristland.

Can I, uh, come over for Thanksgiving? I'll bring my Pearl Jam records.

Blogger MollyNormal said...

Can I just say that not everyone from Missouri is a complete idiot? Skanks like the one you discussed give us all a bad name.

Blogger Crystal said...

Is that stuff about the KFC card for real? Must be nice.

I'm shocked and impressed. How many people can say they've felt up a guy's wife right in front of him? Impressive indeed, and mildly butt puckering.

And people really say man-whore out loud??? I'm amazed!

Blogger its me said...

I just came across this blog. I'm actually moving to the desert next month and interesting what you've written about it so far....

Blogger Egan said...

Hmmm... is that Pearl Jam story arousing or not? ... hmmm. Nice work Todd and I am even more impressed you still hang with the couple. You must be a keeper.

Blogger callieischatty said...

very funny post...

Blogger Princess Steph said...

todd - how excited would you be if I told you that E and I are thinking about coming to Vegas the day after Thanksgiving?

Can I meet your stripper friend. I think I have some things to teach her....

Blogger Egan said...

Steph, that's just plain mean. [insert hardening noise of your choice here]

Blogger Ćœbermilf said...

If you're a man-whore, you should've charged that guy for the chest-grab on his wife.

You've gotta stop giving that stuff out for free if you want to make a living. And it should've cost her extra to grind against your marvelous, albeit clothed, male appendage.

Blogger MoDigli said...

Wow - that is some cRaZy living you're doing down there in Vegas! cRaZy, I tell you!!!!

Still, I like the story about the Colonel and you're Kentucky card best. I LOVE practical jokes. :)

Blogger Kris said...

Melliferous, who isn't a friend chicken man-whore? Or a stripper man-whore?

He is NOT alone!!!

Blogger Ruben said...

Now if you grabbed someone's else's wife's boobies in Chicago they would have been doing a documentary on you like that missing girl in Aruba.

Blogger Rachel said...

I must say, I'm completely jealous of the stripper with the fun bags.

Blogger IndependentGrl said...

I actually think that there is a shortage of fake tits in Vegas. But glad that you got hold of one of the few :-)

Blogger Brookelina said...

I am soooooo calling you Colonel now.

Blogger yournamehere said...

ms. pants,
I'm as far from a man-whore as one can be, but I loves me some fried chicken.

Once again, not a man-whore but lovin' both the fried chicken and the mammoth titties.

Hooray! Come to Vegas this weekend.

when we get married you'll be in the kitchen cooking my chicken. Just kidding. I can't even joke about having that kind of attitude.

I think there has been some sort of falling out that doesn't involve me but I don't think they'll be over for Thanksgiving this year. I think my brother is going on a ski trip this year, so I'll be eating a casino buffet by myself this year.

Yeah, I assumed most of you know Louisville isn't some Nellyesque slang for St. Louis.

I think the card will get me extra bourbon in my mint julep, but no cheap chicken.

Amazingly, almost sixty percent of Vegas residents have squeezed the melons of someone's wife in his presence.

it's me,
It isn't all debauchery. It's also full of douchebags and can be mind-numbingly boring. Thanks for stopping by.

Blogger yournamehere said...

I'm embarrassed that it ever happened, but what can I do?

Thanks for the compliment. Hope you come back.

There isn't an instrument that can measure my excitement.

you are too kind. Sadly, my marvelous male appendage sits just below my flabby male stomach.

That incident happened two years ago. I'm the only person on earth who moved to Vegas and dramatically cut his consumption of alcohol.

I am more alone than you'll ever know.

most of the time, you'd be right. But several years ago I was in Chicago and fondled Bozo the Clown's wife, and all he did was squirt seltzer water in my face.

Don't be. Like I said, she's nice, but she isn't as pretty as you.

yeah, lucky me. It was like finding two needles in a haystack.

You can call me colonel if I can sing "Hot for Teacher" to you in the seedy karaoke bar of my choice.

Blogger Steve Caratzas said...

O, to be a man-whore in goodly standing....

Blogger yournamehere said...

Hopefully when people google man-whore it will lead them to this site. Hahaha.

Blogger Randi said...

the concert story was great! i laughed my ass off!!! thanks for that vegas!!!

Blogger Melliferous Pants said...

I meant fried chicken loving man-whore in the nicest possible way.

Blogger yournamehere said...

I'm glad you liked the story.

miss pants,
Yes, I think you understand how opposite of a man-whore I really am.

Blogger Cincysundevil said...

WOW ... I'm just happy if I go to a concert and don't get tossed into the mosh pit much less getting tit and getting my leg crotch fucked!!

Blogger yournamehere said...

Cincy, that's the only time that's ever happened to me at a concert.

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