And then a bear ate my head

Our last full day in Vegas we walked up and down the strip, and came upon the giant Coke store. (Coca-cola, just to clarify. It is Vegas, after all). Lizzie and I love Diet Coke with an unholy passion, so we had to go in. As you can see from the picture, there was a person dressed up as a polar bear (at first we thought it was animatronic, but it wasn't) with whom you could take a free picture. Obviously Lizzie and I needed to do this. Two small children were in front of us, and as the camera snapped, the bear leaned down and bit the little girl's head. She didn't flinch. When it was our turn, the bear leaned down and bit my head. I screamed. And made that face. (Thanks to Erin for the fabulous photography). Danielle laughed at me, and said "You saw it do that to the little girl!" and I said "Yes, but I'm an adult!" and she said "AN ADULT WHO JUST HAD HER PICTURE TAKEN WITH A GUY IN A BEAR SUIT" and I said "TOUCHE."

I was traumatized, and spent much of day two of the rodeo reminiscing about the time a bear ate my head (though to be fair, if I were a bear, I would totally gnaw on someone's skull). This was the finals of the Finals, so we got to see the cowboys get their gold buckles. One poor kid got bucked off and stomped by a bull, and they had to take him out on a backboard. Turns out his arm was fucked up (that is the medical term) but it could've been a lot worse (he could've gotten his head eaten by a bear, for instance). I also managed to fall down the stairs on the way out, but for once my scrawny (I mean massive) bicep was able to keep my more substantial ass from careening all the way down, so it just felt like I'd been racked for a few minutes. It's not my fault, guys, I'd been nearly mauled, and the trauma threw off my balance. I was probably having a flashback or something.

After the rodeo we went to old Vegas, and had some gross Chinese food. Since our flight was so early the next day, we couldn't really stay out late, but I've heard there are lots of bears in old Vegas, so it's probably better that way. I'm just surprised we were allowed to leave, since not one of us gambled the entire weekend. Luckily they're building some casinos in Massachusetts, so we won't have to go far to pay our "bad at math and calculating odds" tax.

Watch out for the bears, y'all...

Day two, in pictures

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

MINNIE MOUSE IS A MAN, Y'ALL! There were a ton of people on the strip dressed up so tourists could take pics for money. We saw Elmo, Sponge Bob, several Elvises, show girls, and at least four Michael Jacksons in various states of decay.

Surprise Charlie Daniels

The rodeo was just as fun as I remembered from Kansas. It had the same events, except for the mutton busting, but the fireworks probably would've scared the sheep anyway. Also, the event opened with a surprise performance by Charlie Daniels. His beard was mighty.

There were a lot of adorable cowboys with adorable names, my favorite being "Tuf Cooper." The announcers were rather sassy, and said that one of the ropers was "big enough to eat hay," and that another "matched his horse pound for pound." The roper missed his target, probably because he was sad that he'd just been called fat in front of 18,000 people. We followed the cowboys to the Mirage after-party (pausing for the champagne hand-off), and saw lots of hookers. One lady of the evening was clad in a corset so tight that it managed to create a muffin top out of zero body fat, and also provided us party-goers with an eyeful of nipple when she had a wardrobe malfunction. Also, not to be judgey, but she was a horrible dancer, and made her creepy date chase her around the dance floor, weaving through the two-steppers.

Not having had our fill of sketch, we decided to drop in on this "club" which was actually a tiny room in a tattoo parlor, where ladies (THAT'S US!) drank free. However, the jersey shore esque bouncer said there was a $20 cover, and I gave him a disdainful look and said "No thanks," which destroyed his soul enough that he let us in for ten. (If I am going to pay a $2o cover, there'd better be actual people in the club). We set about drinking our $10 worth of free liquor, and dodged some sketchy escorts who tried to get us to sit at the VIP table for free. And by free they meant we'd have to pop bottles of KRYSTAL, bitchez. As I mentioned, the teeny club was nearly empty, and these two sad women kept dancing up on these raised platforms in front of the VIP table. They were horrible dancers, so one of the bouncers told them to get down because "they weren't adding anything" to the atmosphere. This calls for a series of emoticons: :( :( :( :( HOW EMBARRASSING. Having drank as much free booze as our livers could handle, we took our fabulous selves back to our hotel, and slept it off.

That's not Kosher

This lady, my friends, was very popular in Vegas (no, not me, though I can see how you'd think that). We got up late-ish on Friday, and then had lunch at a sports bar called Blondies, which had lots of semi-nekkid ladies (who had powerful skillz with double stick tape, holy cow, if you will) and beer taps at the table. We had a round of water and diet coke, which I'm sure was disappointing. After lunch, we went to Cowboy Christmas in the Vegas convention center to see vendors peddling cowboy related merchandise. Erin was in her element, but Danielle, Lizzie and I were taken aback by all the rhinestones. Since I was unable to blog while in Vegas, I made notes to myself so I could share when I got back, and one of my notes is: rhinestones! Rhinestones! RHINESTONES!! Everything had rhinestones, and according to Erin, these flashy belts, which look cheap and tacky (in my humble opinion) cost upwards of $300! Woah. Shows what I know. There was a lot of big hair, big hats, and American flags. I found a lot of furniture for my hunting lodge, and Erin got a rad belt buckle.

On the way back to our hotel, a taxi pulled alongside us at a red light. Lizzie was driving, and Danielle was sitting behind her. A red-faced cowboy leaned out of the cab window, and starting blowing kisses at my sister. Lizzie, being evil, rolled down Danielle's window, and the following exchange happened:

Cowboy (with Okie accent): I jeest saw yew outta the corner o' my eye, and yer so beautiful!
Danielle (uncomfortably, with Boston accent): Thank you.
Cowboy: Yer jeest so beautiful! You a Jew?
Danielle: No...
Cowboy: My Dad's a Jew!
Danielle: ...
Erin (with Kansan accent): Where are you from?
Cowboy: I ceen't tell you that!

End scene!

You think we couldn't have been handed a better opportunity to tease Danielle, but later on that evening, after the rodeo, we were driving to the cowboy after party, and a limo pulled up alongside us. The men inside rolled down the window, and gestured to my fabulous sister to do the same (and if she hadn't, Lizzie would've) and then handed her a glass of champagne. She took it, but for some reason decided not to drink it. What happens in Vegas (backwash) stays in Vegas, but the teasing followed her back home. Happy Chanukah, sis!

Occupy Logan--States of Snark Does Vegas. Sort of.

Greetings! This weekend, your friends at States of Snark made a quick trip to Vegas to attend the National Finals Rodeo, courtesy of Lizzie, who is magic, and makes things happen (for instance, later on the trip, Erin was looking for a packet of sugar, and Lizzie pulled one out of her pocket. Spooky!) This adventure featured two very special guest stars, the aforementioned Erin, who you may remember from the Kansas trip, and my sister Danielle. After a harrowing ride on the Logan express (where we sat in the very back row next to the toilet, because we are BAD ASS) we set up camp here until our flight, number 777 of course, on which we drank a pile of booze. We picked up Maude money, our rental car which was another Nissan Versa, and then drove down the strip to our hotel, which, Erin and I found out two days later at our friend Bendta's birthday party, was featured on the television show Gigalos! This makes me feel extra glad that we eschewed the nasty-ass jacuzzi in our room, which always seemed to have a soggy film on the bottom, probably because the water from the shower next door backed up into it occasionally. Yum! Since Danielle and I shared a room, and are both cold-blooded (obviously) there was no sneakily turning up the heat when Lizzie wasn't looking (and conversely, Lizzie didn't have to sneakily turn it down when I wasn't looking). Disappointingly, though, neither room had a stripper pole. Just imagine the amusing injuries which could've occurred. Luckily, I don't need a stripper pole to get injured. More on that later.