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Sin-City for the Seven Deadlies
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II
After greed, LUST is probably
the second most visible sin in Vegas. It's everywhere! And it's
a helluva lot easier on the eyes. No matter where you go, or
how hard you try to hide your peepers, you see lust raise its
beautiful head and tits into your view. Yes, lust is so powerful
in Vegas that it cuts open your eyelids and makes you
watch it! It needs your gaze! It wants to be visually
groped and felt up by you! Don't ever let the police tell you
otherwise!
A prime example was the sheer amount of titty shows that the
strip had to offer. Every hotel had at least one (sometimes up
to three) nudie dance performances nightly. And in order to study
the sin of lust and better understand it, the Wolfman and I made
it a point to hit all of them twice. Wait, "twice"
means "5 times" right?
Some were fun, some were exotic, and some were even worthy
of salute, but unfortunately a few were pure crap. All that the
shitty ones did for entertainment was have nekkid women trot
around the stage for an hour and a half while singing lame 90s
pop songs by Madonna and Prince... poorly. Now, I hear you saying
"But Rossman, isn't bad naked dancing better than fully
clothed yet great dancing?" and the answer is "yes".
But when bad naked singing and dancing costs $40-$50 a pop then
the pendulum swings on back to "no".
|
 Lust,
lust, lust, lust, lust, lust, lust, lust, wonderful LUST!! Probably
my favorite sin if I had to choo-choo-choose one.
See,
without lust, I wouldn't have gotten to meet Marilyn here. And
without lust she more than likely wouldn't have massaged my back
and meaty arms and legs with her feet. But most importantly,
without lust I probably wouldn't have done the mattress mambo
with her till we broke 5 hotel beds that night and turned the
swimming pool into a sauna.
Granted,
that last part only occurred in a very fulfilling and vivid night-pleasure,
but what is reality really? Some would argue that dreams
are our true dimension and that the world that we live in right
now (the one that you're at your computer trying to hurry up
and finish my page so that you can get to your daily porn faster)
is fantasy. Lord knows I'm all for that! That means that my real-life
girlfriend is a 6'2" Scottish babe with 4 separate bodies
that look like Nicole Kidman, Kirsten Dunst, Halle Berry and
Sung Hi-Lee with boob jobs. It also means that I'm king of the
world and president of all cool things that will ever happen
and have ever happened in the past and in parallel dimensions.
So
I guess I can just tell you guys to piss off and it wouldn't
matter much now would it. I mean, my real life quadruple-babe
feature would forgive me. |
Some burlesque shows were well worth the price of admission.
La Femme comes to mind over and over again..... and again........
Give me some time, people.
.....
.....
.....
Oh yeah... But others, like Midnight Fantasy su-ucked,
and most assuredly not in a good way. That one even had some
half nude dude doing some really gay Michael Jackson and James
Brown impressions half way through the show! It had a comedian
too, but that guy was at least talented. The impersonator didn't
even do anything new or different. He just sang parts of songs
and shook his ass in the first row's faces. First of all, did
a topless revue honestly think that gay men were going to be
waiting in line to see it? Second of all, did they honestly believe
that if they did they would get to the theater doors 2 hours
before showtime in order to get front row seats so that Steve
Urkel could fart in their gaping mouths? HELL NO! Give us
titties!! That's all we expect from our ta-ta productions.
Well, that and making sure that hot chicks are the only ones
showing their racks.
Other than those nipple numbers, lust appeared in the many
pamphlets and prostitutes that lined the main street. There are
actually newspaper-like distribution bins that hold dozens of
ads and free magazines that tell you how to order whores to be
delivered to your hotel room in 30 minutes or less! Speed delivery
sin! God bless Vegas.
Not that the Wolfman or I actually called for one. We had
to live in our hotel room for a few days, and we really didn't
want it infested with herpes or crabs or lobsters. That would
not have been fun to explain to Michelle and Laurie when we got
back home. I guess I could have come up with a good story that
would have entertained many souls for hours upon hours on end
as to why both the Wolfman and I were covered head to toe in
STDs, but the charm of my tale would have grown old pretty fast
and I really don't like sleeping in my car.
|
 After
I experienced too much LUST (and went into lust-overload) I cracked
a little and got a taste of another sin: ENVY. It seems that
I saw some poets and medieval wenches waltzing around somewhere
and got jealous of the cool threads that they were sporting and
the sweet iambic pentameter that they were spouting. But instead
of just grinding my teeth into nubs on the sidelines while I
visualized stepping on their feather-hatted heads I got serious
and forced them to let me join them in their Shakespearian foolery.
It
wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be and in the end I
was actually heckled away by the short ugly man with the mustache.
I got back at him later by making the Wolfman screw his ugly
sister that night. Or was it his mother? Or his aunt? I really
don't remember, but the truth is I just told the Wolfman that
the ugly lady was some sort of relative to that prick in order
to make myself feel better. It worked. |
|
Here
we can see the Wolfman in the middle of New York's Slot Exchange
District. It turns out that all of the money that the Wolfman
thought he invested into the newest Las Vegas casino really ended
up in some fat Puerto Rican chick's pocket. He kept asking her
questions about stock prices and expectations and shit, and she
just kept saying "BULLcrap" and "kiss my BARE
Hispanic ass!". We both thought she was referring to the
highs and lows of the market.