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| - On day 2 of our Vegas trip, I had already imbibed every type of alcohol imaginable. I had taken in every type of energy drink that can be possibly purchased in the city. I had quite possibly injected, snorted, and/or ingested any kind of illegal/legal drug that was within arms reach of me being sh*t-tanked.
Now, that my body was beyond beat up, I had also taken in numerous buffet's and late night $2 steaks within the short 48 hours I ahad already been here.
My digestive system is screwed.
What to do, on another night of sh*t-faced debauchery when all the "cool hip" night clubs are already dying out with dance floors of sporadic E-tarded Night Vampires dancing dances you could only see on the National Geographic Channel?
Buy yourself a boner.
Boobs. As far as your drunken, stoned-out eyes can see.
Ass. So fantastic, you might just bust a nut on your just-bought-for-Vegas designer jeans and bleach the front fly area.
But as I said, I was already blitzed out of my mind, and my stomach was chock full of buffalo prime rib.
Enter stomach churning sound.
Now, the bathroom at this place isn't half bad. Granted, anyone using the restroom may notice pissing in a strip club may prove quite difficult. Unless you allow yourself ample time for your boner blood to dissipate back into the rest of your body. But, you know, you're not the only one.
Who takes a sh*t at a strip club?
I do.
And with people uncomfortably pissing and avoiding eye contact with the next guy, the restroom is actually the quietest and most peaceful place in a strip club.
There was an ample supply of seat covers and toilet paper.
Bravo!
Now if only the girls knew that there little neck humming vibrations on your crotch for $40 actually brought them within millimeters of a minutes-ago diarrhea-dotted taint.
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