i'm in las vegas. if we go on strict percentage, i've made a lot of money so far. if we look at actual cash flow, i'm making about as much as i would at my day job.
now i'm looking through a little brochure called The Las Vegas Entertainment Guide and Forum. There are many explicit photographs of average-to-buttugly-looking women offering to "Come Direct to YOUR Room! TOTALLLY NUDE!"
i wonder if i could possibly do something like that for a living. go around to traveller's hotel rooms and strip naked, performing all manner of sexual delight for folks who have no higher aspiration that to get off in a real "quality" manner.
so anyway.. if i had my quickcam i would certainly take a picture of my winnings. they are over there on the other table, a mass of quarters sprawled naked, prostate and glittery across the fake marble surface.
did i mention that this hotel room really sucks? I am staying at the Aladdin Hotel & Casino, and would not recommend it to anybody. I'm just going to use those exact words: The Aladdin Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas — because I want to be sure it shows up on search engines everywhere so that anyone looking for it knows how hard it sucks.
why, what this room needs is Janet. 737-9612. She'll come over in just her hat and boots 24 hours a day 7 days a week. she's a real gentlemen's choice. i'm a gentleman, right?? Ayup.
on the airplane this afternoon i met a guy who runs the biggest Internet Service Provider in Poland.
typing all this nonsense, i can look up and see myself in the mirror. over there, i only see myself when i'm not typing something or when i'm not looking down at the keyboard and mouthing the words i'm setting out for you to see.
so at the casino tonight i'm putzing around with my plastic cup full of quarters and i'm looking at this one machine (which is just like all the others) because it has a slot here you can insert paper money, and it says "Insert $1 to $100" and i'm like busting out laughing and guffawing and chortling and wheezing and snorting and hocking and saying outloud "That's what I'll do. I'll take a hundred dollar bill and feed it into this slot machine."
i could feel the disease engulfing me. it would have made so much more sense to be at a video arcade, blowing a quarter here and a dollar there. but the disease crept up like the vermin that rustle through the walls of my apartment building. i could hear the thoughts, clear and ugly as las vegas. i thought one of these machines owed it to me, and i started fantasizing about emotional relationships with the machine that would spit out the most money. i caressed this one slot machine at Bally's, and i shouted hostilities at a slot machine here at the Aladdin.
i just looked up again and saw myself in the mirror. i need a haircut and a shave, and i have to stop laughing. i don't know who i am. and this hotel sucks.
the ceiling here is that pimply stucco that i remember from Tampa.
wow, here i am. in some strange city i never imagined i'd be in.
on the plane over here, some woman from oakland was bragging that she had been a guest on the ricki lake show, and they flew her out there. she was old and fat.