Atlantic City: Always turned on
Time for the standard post-weekend update (just for you, Zander). In an effort to get out of my current funk and spend a little quality time with my fellow seniors, I braved the nasty Jersey smell and headed for the east coast, white trash version of Vegas. Only the best for me. My weekend wardrobe consisted of cleavage revealing shirts, my "slut" pants and a red feather boa.
Friday night we arrived late, checked into our foul room at the HoJo. Our hotel was chosen for it's low price, but more importantly for it's nearness to the boardwalk. The fact that directly across the street was a "Cash for Gold" store and that hookers congregated on the corner at 2 a.m. was just a bonus. After checking in, we headed to the Tropicana to begin losing our money. At the Firewater Bar there, we waited 15 minutes to get served by a bartender not pretty enough to be a stripper but not ugly enough to realize it. Drinks were overpriced and water-downed. Then we discovered the glory of Pennies from Heaven. Even though I didn't win a cent, it's very easy to entertain yourself for several hours on $2.50 at penny slots. Plus as long as you sit at a machine, you get free drinks. At some point after 3 a.m. we wondered back to our hotel room. For whatever reason, I decided to sleep on the floor in the closet. Not my proudest moment. Still it was worth it to hear the cleaning lady scream, thinking I was a dead hooker when she keyed in the next morning at 11:45.
Saturday we ventured onto the boardwalk. We spent nearly 4 hours making our way from the Tropicana to the Taj Mahal, but whatever...we acquired cool shit along the way. We stopped for psychic readings that were eerily correct. We then moved on to an arcade and spent quite a bit of time playing skee ball. After amassing about 700 prize tickets, we finally decided to get temporary tattoos. Then it was on to Ceasar's Palace, to pose in front of statues and otherwise interrupt serious gamblers. Along the way, I continuously felt the need to pose with my hand on the crotch's of statues. Maybe if you're extra nice I'll post the picture of me molesting Ben Franklin. After heading back outside, we were interviewed by the London Telegraph. Be sure to pick up a copy to see yours truly. Finally we made it to the Taj, which is fabuously on the outside, but pretty much the same as all other casinos on the inside. At about 6:30, our blood-alcohol level became critically low and we returned to the HoJo to apply our temporary tatoos and drink 40's out of paper bags. There are quite a few pictures of me with my pants unbuttoned on the balcony with Blackberry Jack in hand, displaying my poorly place body art. All classy like.
Then came the search for a strip club. Despite Em stopping at the Visitor's Center to ask where we could see strippers, we were pretty much at a loss. The only male strip club in town had a $20 cover. I am morally opposed to paying to see dick, since I see so much of it for free. Besides, male strippers just make me want hot dogs...or cocktail wienies if it's amature night. Eventually we settled on The Playground. Public transportation in Atlantic City is shitty. The bus is called the "Jitney", holds about 10 people and costs $1.50 for a 4 block ride. At the Playground, I got a free and rather good lap dance. I also swore that if I hit the jackpot, I would come back for a spin in the champagne room. Em kept sticking dollar bills in the girls g-strings, even though I told her that's what the garters are for. Whatever, if you knew Em, you'd think it was hilarious. God I love strippers.
Upon leaving the Playground, I was propositioned by a nasty old man. Lola said he wanted to come home with me, not to fuck me, but rather because he just needed a place to stay. I lost a bit more money at the Tropicana, and returned to the HoJo and the closet floor. Sunday morning came all to early. We were all slightly hung over, tired, and dreading coming home.
Good times were had by all, especially me, which is the most important thing.
Friday night we arrived late, checked into our foul room at the HoJo. Our hotel was chosen for it's low price, but more importantly for it's nearness to the boardwalk. The fact that directly across the street was a "Cash for Gold" store and that hookers congregated on the corner at 2 a.m. was just a bonus. After checking in, we headed to the Tropicana to begin losing our money. At the Firewater Bar there, we waited 15 minutes to get served by a bartender not pretty enough to be a stripper but not ugly enough to realize it. Drinks were overpriced and water-downed. Then we discovered the glory of Pennies from Heaven. Even though I didn't win a cent, it's very easy to entertain yourself for several hours on $2.50 at penny slots. Plus as long as you sit at a machine, you get free drinks. At some point after 3 a.m. we wondered back to our hotel room. For whatever reason, I decided to sleep on the floor in the closet. Not my proudest moment. Still it was worth it to hear the cleaning lady scream, thinking I was a dead hooker when she keyed in the next morning at 11:45.
Saturday we ventured onto the boardwalk. We spent nearly 4 hours making our way from the Tropicana to the Taj Mahal, but whatever...we acquired cool shit along the way. We stopped for psychic readings that were eerily correct. We then moved on to an arcade and spent quite a bit of time playing skee ball. After amassing about 700 prize tickets, we finally decided to get temporary tattoos. Then it was on to Ceasar's Palace, to pose in front of statues and otherwise interrupt serious gamblers. Along the way, I continuously felt the need to pose with my hand on the crotch's of statues. Maybe if you're extra nice I'll post the picture of me molesting Ben Franklin. After heading back outside, we were interviewed by the London Telegraph. Be sure to pick up a copy to see yours truly. Finally we made it to the Taj, which is fabuously on the outside, but pretty much the same as all other casinos on the inside. At about 6:30, our blood-alcohol level became critically low and we returned to the HoJo to apply our temporary tatoos and drink 40's out of paper bags. There are quite a few pictures of me with my pants unbuttoned on the balcony with Blackberry Jack in hand, displaying my poorly place body art. All classy like.
Then came the search for a strip club. Despite Em stopping at the Visitor's Center to ask where we could see strippers, we were pretty much at a loss. The only male strip club in town had a $20 cover. I am morally opposed to paying to see dick, since I see so much of it for free. Besides, male strippers just make me want hot dogs...or cocktail wienies if it's amature night. Eventually we settled on The Playground. Public transportation in Atlantic City is shitty. The bus is called the "Jitney", holds about 10 people and costs $1.50 for a 4 block ride. At the Playground, I got a free and rather good lap dance. I also swore that if I hit the jackpot, I would come back for a spin in the champagne room. Em kept sticking dollar bills in the girls g-strings, even though I told her that's what the garters are for. Whatever, if you knew Em, you'd think it was hilarious. God I love strippers.
Upon leaving the Playground, I was propositioned by a nasty old man. Lola said he wanted to come home with me, not to fuck me, but rather because he just needed a place to stay. I lost a bit more money at the Tropicana, and returned to the HoJo and the closet floor. Sunday morning came all to early. We were all slightly hung over, tired, and dreading coming home.
Good times were had by all, especially me, which is the most important thing.
posted by The Husskateer at 4:43 PM
1 Comments:
I stumbled onto your blog accidentally and LOVED reading about your amusing adventure. Now I want to go to sleazy casinos and strip clubs...
cheers!
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