Explaining the unexplained absence

There are reasons that I fail to update this site regularly, and all of them equate into laziness. I mean, really, how much effort is required to write a few paragraphs and post a picture?

Well, house has had contractors in it rebuilding our bathroom. Living in a hotel the past week and a half, part of it enjoyable because the hotel was the Trump International in Las Vegas.

I have only been to Las Vegas two times in my life, both time this year. The first time was business, a sign convention, with my boss. All work and no play… makes Jack a dull boy. Last week Liz and I went for another convention… a retailer convention. She was looking for more vendors for the museum gift shop.

The first night we spent on the strip, and were stripped of much of our free cash.  Vegas, baby! Caesar’s buffet was excellent – but at $65 each, plus another $35 each to jump in front of the two hour line, not to mention the $15 each for unlimited refills of the mediocre drinks… well, there are many better deals in Sin City.

Which brings me to Freemont Street. The original “Strip”, the heart of Las Vegas of the Noir movies.  Ass cheeks and boobs and barely dressed girls and booze and gambling… who could ask for anything more?

I am too cheap to lose too much money gambling… I dropped less than $100 in the slots. I did tip the street performers however; they are earning an honest, albeit in some eyes disreputable living.

Our meal on Freemont Street cost less than four drinks at the bar at Trump International ($75 for four mixed drinks)! However, since the hotel was a participant of the convention, the hotel suite costs only $118 a night. Non-smoking hotel, and not a casino, so quiet.

I am privileged that Liz is a good sport, and even took pictures of me being a reprobate.  Liz made sure the girls stayed in pose for several photos.

Freemont Street really is an experience. Overhead are zip lines. Also a laser light and video show. If a bar is empty, you will see a bartender clad in thong dancing on the bar. As they say, “sex sells”.

If I had to rate cities on the degree of decadence, Vegas does fall into third place. I saw no tits. You see tits galore on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Sure, you have to toss Mardi Gras beads to see boobs, but you get to see boobs!

I am not a boob man.  I am an ass man.  I like nice healthy butts. On Freemont Street you do get to see some nice butts! And, the girls will pose with you for a few bucks! I would like to have the concession for Brazilian waxes.

But then we go to Key West. Duval Street boasts a clothing optional bar. With a swimming pool. And if you are too chicken shot to de-robe, you can sit on the second floor of that bar, and look above at the glass bottom of that pool.

The Fantasy Fest parade has totally nude participants. I will not even go into detail about the actions that happen in the presence of others. But full nudity does trump (no political pun intended) bouncing boobs and ass cheeks.

All good things must come to an end, and my liver thanks me. Back in Apache Junction, and out of one hotel and into another. Our bathroom had a leak inside the wall. The wall had to be torn out, and studs replaced. New wall, new tile on the wall and around the shower. For a week the toilet has been sitting in the living room. We moved into a Best Western down the street. It is not the Trump, but it is clean.

We finally had a working toilet yesterday, and semi-working shower. The contractors are having a hell of a time installing the shower doors – the house is old and nothing is square. By tomorrow night we should have the bathroom back to normal.

Little by little we are getting the house into shape. I guess my future posts should include pics of the bathroom, before and after. At least I have fodder for my future posts, because other than this excitement, my life is relatively boring.



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