Sorry, no advice today….Just had a KILLER night in Vegas and I’m wayyyy too hungover for that shit.
Ugh, my hotel REEKS of stale blood. There’s gotta be a hundred seal carcasses in here, I can’t even make it to the bathroom without tripping over a dismembered leg.
I swear one of the strippers I ate must have been drugged because I’ve never gotten this out of control before. What was the name of that place again? “Leave it to Beavers?” I blew so much cash there, dude. I must have shoved twenty fish heads down June Cleavage’s g-string, and she didn’t even seem to appreciate it. I guess it was a little degrading when I made her balance that red ball on her nose while I screamed “perform for me seal!” But she’s a stripper. If she wants respect she should go back to that college she’s pretending to pay her way through.
Seriously though, they’re never going to let me stay at the Venetian again. The concierge told me they had to completely drain the canals last night. And that even after a thorough scrubbing, the sides of the gondolas still have a pinkish stain from “the night when the waters ran red with blood.” I don’t know what I was thinking. For some reason romantic gondola rides always give me a craving for fresh hearts.
It also doesn’t help that Sergei – whose half-eaten corpse is currently crammed into the mini-fridge – was one of their most requested gondoliers. Looking at him I can understand why. You can still see a glimmer of warmth in his now dead eyes, and the smile frozen on his lifeless face really lights up a room. I might have his leftovers for breakfast if I can stomach it. I remember him tasting like kindness.
Ugh, maybe not though, I’ve already eaten so many empty calories already. Nature’s deadliest killing machine? More like nature’s fattest killing machine. I feel more bloated than a body that’s washed up on shore. I mean, I was so wasted I didn’t even realize those people at Madame Tussauds were made of wax. I ate the entire N’Sync display. Totes not looking forward to shitting out Lance Bass’s acrylic hair for the next week.
Seriously though, they’re never going to let me stay at the Venetian again. The concierge told me they had to completely drain the canals last night. And that even after a thorough scrubbing, the sides of the gondolas still have a pinkish stain from “the night when the waters ran red with blood.” I don’t know what I was thinking. For some reason romantic gondola rides always give me a craving for fresh hearts.
It also doesn’t help that Sergei – whose half-eaten corpse is currently crammed into the mini-fridge – was one of their most requested gondoliers. Looking at him I can understand why. You can still see a glimmer of warmth in his now dead eyes, and the smile frozen on his lifeless face really lights up a room. I might have his leftovers for breakfast if I can stomach it. I remember him tasting like kindness.
Ugh, maybe not though, I’ve already eaten so many empty calories already. Nature’s deadliest killing machine? More like nature’s fattest killing machine. I feel more bloated than a body that’s washed up on shore. I mean, I was so wasted I didn’t even realize those people at Madame Tussauds were made of wax. I ate the entire N’Sync display. Totes not looking forward to shitting out Lance Bass’s acrylic hair for the next week.
Just thinking about it makes me want to vom all over again. I need to get some hair of the dog up in this piece. I hope there’s an animal shelter on the way home.
Later bitches,
Mr. Shark
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