Goodbye Vegas, you sick bitch.
I hate you.
You used to be fun. Now you’re just washed up and pathetic.
Did you ever wonder how the bed sheet toga was invented?
Probably, it was in Vegas. Whiskey was involved.
Whiskey is always involved, somehow.
Then you wake up naked. Alone in a bed, but not alone. And not in a place where being discovered (bad naked) is any more appealing than being awake (Whiskey). Problem, meet solution.
Whiskey is the devil. We all know that. Boozy encounters with chicks – those always end well, too. Especially when they’re friends. Add in Vegas and a corporate expense account. Shake well. Shit happens.But not in the way you might expect (based on your personal experiences on every other trip to Vegas ever).
Sometimes, all there is to confess after a Vegas road trip is the booze. Just a couple of Gaelic Clusterfucks (Tullamore Dew/Harp) and a regular boilermaker. No hookers. No blow. No hookups. No shag disasters. No new LTRs/divorces. No Doug on the roof.
There is still no explanation for waking up alone but(t) naked. Or the other surprises. Just shut and be grateful the tale was met with “bemused and nonchalant,” rather than “mortified.”
We were invited to drop 500 words on a website tied to a major player in the auto industry, about our experience at CES 2013.
My Editor: I understand you’re pretty funny as a writer, and…
Legal Department (butting in): … well, comedy is
something we usually squasha kind of hobby of ours. Well– Well, actually, it’s a little more than just a hobby. Reader’s Digest is considering publishing two of our jokes.
Legal Department: Yeah. And perhaps some night we could maybe get together and swap humorous stories for-for fun.
Me: Oh, why not? Maybe play a couple of Adele records. That’d be a hoot.
Yay! Free publicity! Backlinks! Money raining from the sky! Hookers and blow!