« Back to Vegas Inventions, Part 1
Howdy folks! Have you ever been to Las Vegas and wondered, "What show do I just need to see so I can brag to my friends?" "Where are all the hot Vegas strippers at?" "Why is kc writing another fucking Vegas Inventions? I thought that shitbird was supposed to write about college life?"
Well, fuck you. I lost my ass, soul, and dignity in Vegas. So I thought I'd at least get a couple column ideas out of the deal. Because lord knows I didn't make any money. Here goes!!!
KC's Accurate-As-Now Strip Club Preview
We've all been there. You pay the $30 cover and the strippers look like they've been trucked into town from a cattle car from South Jersey. There's more stretch marks here than on Octomom's labia. Sheeeeeee-it! And where the fuck are all the fake tits? Does scar tissue count? This sucks. If only there was a way to see what the 5 a.m. strippers at Olympic Gardens look like. Wait! I know! A strip club preview! I knew I was a super genius.
Bonzo's Alternate Identity Provider
So you're a small claims investment banker from Connecticut with plans to…. BORING! Holy shit! Your life is so bland and shitty, I can't even listen to the first sentence of you describing yourself.
How about this? You're a secret agent posing as a microphone inspector for Jay-Z! Now that's a sexy and awesome fucking profession. Sure, there are a lot of technical details in being a microphone checker; most people just won't understand. But now you sound awesome! Chicks will want to hang with you.
Even if you don't really know Jay-Z, the people at Bonzo's Alternate Identity Provider will give you a few hints. Yeah, you've hung with Hov and Beyonce. Actually, you were just in the Hamptons with them the other week. But now you need some "me time." That rapper from Brooklyn may seem tough, but dang is he needy with his microphone engineers. So you're just taking in a relaxing weekend, and maybe you'll meet up with Lady Gaga in a few hours. If you have time for her. No big whup.
Now THAT'S an identity people would pay kabillions for! But here at Bonzo's, we'll give it to you (plus a few rented pieces of bling and faux-autographed Jay-Z photos) for the low price of $149.94!!! You'd have to be a complete loser to pass this up. But wait! You're not a loser! You're a professional parachute jump fight coordinator for the new Tom Cruise sci-fi/action/adventure/comedy movie!
Rent Your Own Alan from Hangover / Charlie Day from Always Sunny / Dr. Gonzo from Fear and Loathing / Barney from How I Met Your Mother
Your friends are pretty cool. They're quirky. They're tight. But they're not quite the wild card. That's why there's the Rent Your Own Crazy Guy Service! You'll always know the best Crazy Assed Vegas Stories! You'll recount a full list of batshit ideas! Wacky adventures! And mounds and mounds of quotes! Mike Tyson's tigers sure hate cinnamon, but they love hanging with crazy guys! You will too!
Stripper-Gunk-Be-Gone!!!!
It's Sunday and you arrive back home from a stupendous stereotypical Vegas trip. Your parents, grandparents, or significant other picks you up from the airport. The first thing they say is, "Well, did you win enough to buy me a steak dinner?" Nah, just kidding. They say, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT RASH ON YOUR FACE FROM?" Dang. We've all been there. Goll dang strippers and their contagious stripper residue. It totally ruins a good hazy memory about lap dances.
But your biggest worry isn't just penicillin-proof hoof-n-mouth disease from strippers. There's also all that fucking GLITTER! The sorrow! And don't forget the smell! Normal dry cleaning doesn't get that out. It takes either a bonfire or a full can of Stripper-Gunk-Be-Gone!!!! to fully sanitize one regular-sized men's suit. Stripper-Gunk-Be-Gone!!!! The four exclamation points let you know it works!!!!
Ant Farm Keyboard
It's basically a regular clear plastic computer keyboard with an ant farm inside of it. Just please don't shake it up. Ant farm keyboard is genius! We're going to sell a million of them!
Mr. Conscience's Negatory Service
You know that little voice in the back of your head that says, "Maybe we shouldn't call this hooker's number from the business card some Mexican gave me." Yeah, that voice gets flattened on the Las Vegas airport tarmac.
Don't worry. Mr. Conscience's Negatory Service has you covered. When the blackjack dealer asks if you want to raise your bet, Mr. Conscience will tell you, "No, the dealer doesn't want you to slap your cock on the table and say, ‘Is this a big enough blind for you, bitch?'"
Mr. Conscience isn't just here for you for your gambling needs. He'll also tell you not to eat those reddish-looking clams at the Circus Circus buffet, buy drugs from that greaser who looks like Antonio Banderas' greasier older brother, or fight that black guy who may or may not be Floyd Mayweather. Mr. Conscience will even carry around a pocket full of STD photos… just to scare you out of unprotected sex for the rest of your life!
Hot Chick GPS
Okay, the delicious cooze is definitely not at Excalibur buffet. Unless you're into pregnant GILFS wearing Hawaiian-themed mumus. But. Let me pull out this HC-GPS. Ohh, all the sweet tail is hanging at the Hard Rock Hotel's pool. Okay, I guess we'll go there. Problem solved.
Zippy's Clown Farm
Show up. Wait in line for half an hour. Two lines of complimentary crystal meth upon paying the $20 cover charge. Then when you finally walk through the door, a clown, mime, jester, or midget harlequin swings a dead fish into your nuts. Because people in Vegas will pay for anything. A few months will go by, and you'll take a vacation to Vegas, and all your friends will ask, "Did you go to the place where they swing a gutted salmon at your dick? Oh man. It was the best show since Celine Dion got eaten by tiger sharks!
There you go folks, brilliant inventions for the City of Sin. Can you think of any others? Or do you want to go in on a few patents???
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