Denny’s: America’s Diner, and an Embassy for the Country-less. I’m not going to bother explaining most of that reference. It’s an inside joke between my Accountant and I, and it’s not that funny. But now they serve booze at most locations. That’s great! They will however, forget to bring your extra side of bacon. That’s terrible. I was under the assumption that side orders of bacon were a huge part of The American Dream?
America: We still hard AF out here.
Seeing as how my Accountant, my Electrician and I have ate nothing but garbage since landing in the City of Lost Wages (AGAIN! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha, I’m so ‘effing funny!) we figured walking to some destinations would be a great an idea. While on one of said walks, I spotted the Lotti curb at UNLV. Neither my Accountant, nor my Electrician knew what the hell I was so giddy about. I got a quick selfie anyway…
The destination of this walk was the Pinball Hall of Fame. There aren’t any pictures, because it’s located in a dank, dark air plane hangar and I was too busy pumping in quarters, burning calories, and having fun. Such a shame. Side note: when I went to get a Gatorade, mid pinball session, I saw a bum dropping a deuce in the entrance of industrial park. Laaaaaaas Vegas ladies and gentleman.
After all this healthy, going on long desert walks and burning calories bull shit, it was then on to the Heart Attack Grill for dinner. We figured we should completely erase any health benefits we had gained during our afternoon stroll. To be perfectly honest, I thought this place was a joke when I first heard about it from an old room mate 5 years ago. To this day, even their website seems a little suspect to me. But it’s real, I assure you.
Great jumping Jehoshaphat, could this be The American Dream (minus that gross fucking raw onion of course) we’ve been searching for? When 5 extra strips of bacon is only .95 cents, you shut up and order 5 extra strips of bacon (thus making up for the Denny’s SNAFU’s regarding their sides of bacon) You also don’t give a shit when you discover it’s the saltiest bacon you’ve had in your entire life, and you need to rinse you mouth out with a healthy squirt of made in Ohio ketchup after nearly every bite.
The illustration above accurately represents my feelings after the single bypass. The SINGLE bypass. The single bypass I ordered was the first single patty hamburger I’ve had in years.
I’m sure the giant hobo-sized can of Budweiser didn’t help. My Accountant (who opted for the more reasonably sized Sam Adams Boston Lager) and my Electrician were equally as exhausted, but there was no way we were getting spanked, or leaving the restaurant in a wheelchair. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.
Still, we barely made it out of there alive.
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Post burger coma, we stopped in for a quick show/money losing slot session at the Circus Circus.
“The Circus-Circus is what the whole hep world would be doing Saturday night if the Nazis had won the war. This is the sixth Reich. The ground floor is full of gambling tables, like all the other casinos . . . but the place is about four stories high, in the style of a circus tent, and all manner of strange County fair/Polish madness is going on up in this space.”
My Account, Electrician, and I didn’t bring any ether (damnit!) so luckily we weren’t escorted out the second we got through the turnstyles. We did end up watching a very family friendly burlesque dancer perform a routine choreographed to a poorly covered Evanescence song. So there’s that.
For a ‘family friendly’ place, the Circus Circus had pretty terrible drink prices, and I’m not drinking anywhere that has a Vince Neil themed bar (seriously white people, why?) Plus, we wanted to keep hobo-ing it up. So, Freemont Street Experience it is.
This came pretty close to every assumption I can make about The American Dream. Wasted electricity, browned bag tall cans, Marlboro Reds, mini Mr. T’s
This photo cost me $6, and was 100% worth it in my opinion. Lil’ T, you so crazy.
Oh, and amongst losing another $80 or so dollars on the god damned penny slots, I saw the re-purposed Glitter Gulch sign.
This is the closest we came to doing anything strip club related.
Bury Me In Vans 
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