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  • I was enlightened by Anthony Bourdain to the existence of Ass Juice. I knew one day I'd get my own ass to the Double Down. Our second day in Vegas, I had eyes on the infamous bacon martini. I had to take one for the team. I had to experience "the happiest place on earth" because people, for me it ain't Disney. Upon walking in, I knew I wanted to just pull up a stool and soak it all in. The place was dim, dark, dirty, grungy, smelled like stale beer cans, wasted dreams, quarters and careers. The bathroom was a literal feast for the eyes, toilet paper on the chain link behind you and all. I must have sat in there for about 10 minutes just reading the walls. My personal favorite? "I have a spiffy beaver" I had a shot of ass juice waiting for me while Joe sipped a Schlitz. "Sipped a Schlitz"...not a pretty sound. Not a pretty sight. The juice went down fast, and I can only imagine the need for sugary puke insurance. Thankfully, I knew I wouldn't be there long enough. I then went for the martini. I swore I heard someone say "bong water martini" from the peanut gallery in the corner, but who cares. I ordered it, I drank it, and i even saw the bottle of bacon. I don't think i need to drink it again, although, I was intrigued by the notion of a bacon bloody mary. "It's like an alcoholic BLT!" the bartender bragged. We liked him. We made a friend at the bar. I'll call him "Wade". Apparently, according to other patrons, the only reason Wade was still around was because "the grave diggers were on strike!" He was a harmless fellow, who spouted obscenities, told Joe he had a lot of nerve bringing me to a place like this, and then slobbered on my hand once he realized it was I who chose the bar. What can I say? I'm a classy gal. Hobos love me. I could go on. The 70s soft porn on the tv, the punk rock, Wade, the bacon etc..but there were other adventures to be had in Vegas. It's probably a good thing I couldn't stay too long, but I'll be back next time I'm in town.
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